Updated: Feb 15
My love story to give hope and inspiration.
Tuesday morning, I am back from the school run, a mug of coffee and a banging head.
It was a cold but sunny frosty morning in March 2015.
I am sitting on the floor of the latest investment, another wreck of a house, another two-bed semi; it was like groundhog day.
Another standard refurb another three months of hard graft, dust and stress but this time, I was alone and doing it myself, oh AND living in it with my two boys facing life alone as a single mum.
It's funny I never used that term.
I never got to that. We were apart for five months.
If you have been in a relationship for any time, you may know when things get rough.
It's hard to leave, but it's also hard to stay.
I did not leave lightly - it was THE last resort, and it did not work - I suppose I thought he would STOP and become the Daddy I knew he could be. The version of him I really wanted for my boys. At this point I was avoiding looking too hard at myself. Instead I would blame him.
Leaving him was my way to crack it open and stop holding this broken, fragile thing as if it were precious - because it seemed I was the only one who cared about 'US' for a long time.
Of course, any break-up is sad, but I always knew I would be okay deep down.
My motherly instinct was strong. It kicked in, maybe it took over, and I became THE LIONESS. The kids come first. I would repeat to myself.
But there was always wine. That was a given.
Although I have never enjoyed drinking alone, in fact, I didn't enjoy spending time on my own until recently. I love it now but back then, during my' wine is the answer phase,' I knew I had to create some stability, so I tried hard to get into a routine and master the bath time and bedtime routine without a glass of wine or two to end each day.
I suppose it was the little challenge I gave myself.