Choosing Myself, Choosing My Children

When I left my marriage in May of 2024, it wasn’t on impulse, it wasn’t to “ruin” anything, and it certainly wasn’t to hurt my children. It was because I was drowning in a life that was supposed to be built on love- instead felt like control, silence, and slowly disappearing.

Before I walked out that door, I spoke with my daughter. I was worried about her, the same way I’ve always worried about all of my children. She was okay with my decision.

I didn’t leave with caring- I left because the caring had always been one-sided. I left because staying would’ve meant continuing to die inside, and I didn’t want my kids to watch their mother shrink into someone who only existed for someone else’s comfort.

My son stayed behind at first, and that was okay. I told myself he was safe and that I would figure it out. And yet, just a few hours later he chose me. He wanted to come where he felt loved, supported, and seen. From that day forward he stayed by my side. Not because I dragged him away, not because I manipulated him, but because he wanted to feel safe with his mom.

Meanwhile, my ex stayed in the house, clinging to convenience, not to us. He insisted I was selfish, that I left for attention, that I was the narcissist. Buth the truth is simple: I asked for us to get help, and when the therapist he selected made me uncomfortable, I asked for a woman. The request alone became a fight. Instead of asking what I needed, he needed wanted to know why I was “making a problem.” Even therapy became another contest where I had to defend my feelings.

The day I left I remember the hug. It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t loving. It wasn’t a fight to keep me in his life. It was lifeless, like a person who only valued what I gave him, not who I was. That hug told me everything- he didn’t love me; he loved the control he had.

I used to believe that is someone truly loves you; they would fight for you. But now I understand sometimes love shows itself not in the fight to keep someone, but in the willingness to let go when you’ve already done the fighting alone. Sometimes the strongest love is the love we offer to ourselves when we finally walk away.

I didn’t leave my kids.

I didn’t abandon my life.

I left a relationship that abandoned me long before I ever packed a bag.

It’s still hard. Healing is messy and slow. Life is not magically easy now. But every day I choose peace over chaos, openness over walking on eggshells, and authenticity over pretending I’m okay. I choose to show my kids what strength looks like, not just what surviving look like.

And above all I’m proud of myself. I’m proud that I left when love started to feel like suffication. I’m proud that I listened to my instincts, wven when people called me selfish. I’m proud that even on the rough days, I still fight for a safe and peaceful life.

Not for attention.

Not out of selfishness.

But out of survival- and eventually, out of love for myself.