I need to write more

Every time I decide I’m not going to write, something absolutely insane happens.

So much has changed. Somewhere between feeling like my own husband’s mistress and now, everything completely flipped. He’s become unhinged. I’ve had to make multiple police reports, and he’s officially out of the house we once shared. Oh—and because he “felt like it,” he threw out all of my things, even though I had been waiting on him to tell me when I could come get them.

And honestly, it’s not like his parents are any help. If anything, they encourage the behavior and bail him out of everything. But somehow I’m the bad guy when I point out that he still needs mommy and daddy for everything. The truth hurts, I guess. Oh well.

Anyway, I’ve had our son for four weeks straight, and honestly? It’s been amazing. He is my literal twin, and I feel like this time together has brought us even closer. This is the first week he’s actually seen his dad, so I guess that’s worth something. I still can’t help but feel guilty sometimes, even though deep down I know it’s really not my fault. If I’m being honest, he’s lucky he even gets to see our son considering he doesn’t do anything for him financially anyway.

But aside from all of that, life for me has actually been really great.

I’m happy. Like, genuinely happy. I’m vibing alone, and it feels so good. Sure, I may have a little roster, but I’m not taking any of it seriously—sue me, okay? It’s been seven years since I’ve been able to truly do what I want, and honestly, this is the best I’ve felt in a long time.

I don’t need or even want a man right now. I just want to have fun with my friends and my son. For the first time in a long time, I feel capable of anything. I’m doing more than I ever thought I could, and I’m honestly so proud of myself.

Because this single-parent life? At 25, I’m really out here kicking ass.