I don’t think there was one big, cinematic moment where everything changed. Cue tears for this theatre kid 🙂 There was no big life change or shift in my mindset.
There was no dramatic scene: no yelling or throwing of plates against the kitchen wall.
It was quieter than that — subtle, almost a whisper. A passing comment: “This isn’t working.”
And once said, it can’t be taken back.
And life? It wasn’t going to look the way I thought it would anymore.
And do you want to know the strange thing?
Nothing stopped.
The world kept spinning as it always had…as it always will.
There were still things to do: meals to make, appointments to keep. A child still needed me, just as before.
For some strange reason, somewhere in the back of my mind, I expected the world to pause for a moment so I could catch my breath — just long enough to process what I was feeling.
It didn’t, though; everything carried on around me, uninterrupted.
The next day came like it always does. Morning school routines went on — oblivious to my world crashing down around me. Life just…kept going.
And so I, too, had to keep going. And not because I had this internal desire to keep things normal, no. I put one foot in front of the other because I had to. I had to keep going because even though the waves of despair deep inside me are eroding what I thought was solid rock, breaking them into smaller fragments, on the outside everything still looks.
Yes, inside I felt like everything was in pieces, and the sharp shards of glass were piercing what was left of my shattered heart. But, the world hasn’t stopped. I’m still showing up. I’m still answering questions, still making decisions.
And beneath all those routines, something inside me was rearranging itself.
I thought I’d feel one clear emotion when it hit me, but it was never that simple.
One minute it’s sadness, of course.
But also confusion.
And then a little bit of relief, if I’m being honest.
Then suddenly, beneath it all, there’s a quiet awareness that this is the start of something new — even if I don’t feel ready for it.
And honestly, I’m still not sure I feel ready.
But I’m here.
And that’s the part no one really talks about: the “and then what?”
Because after the realisation, after the moment where you know things are different…
You still have to live your life.
You still have to move forward, even if you’re not entirely sure what forward looks like yet.
So, day by day, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.
And, it isn’t perfect.
And, there often is no plan.
But it’s all I can do for right now…just…continuing.
One day to the next. One small adjustment at a time.
Learning to carry something new while holding onto what matters.
If this chapter has a beginning, I think this was it.
Not a theatrical turning point, just a quiet moment of change when life simply kept going.
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