The first time I dropped off my three kids at my ex-husband’s house, I found myself in distress. Once I got into my car, I felt the overwhelming need to collect myself before driving away. I didn’t want them to see me break down; this was their first night with him, and he was genuinely excited to have them over at his new home. It wouldn’t be fair for them to witness their mother in tears.
As I sat in a nearby parking lot, snowflakes began to turn into rain. I had a craving for breakfast, so I decided to head to a local fast-food restaurant for a sausage biscuit, which ultimately went untouched. Instead, I sat there, cross-legged, staring blankly at passing cars for what felt like an eternity.
I could have chosen to reconnect with my ex-husband, since we have maintained a friendly relationship. I could have reached out to my best friend, visited my sister, or indulged in a pedicure. I had even received an invitation from an old friend to go out for dinner. However, I didn’t follow through with any of those options; I was too devastated. I felt lost and unable to socialize. I ended up crying over that sausage biscuit, mourning the loss of our previous family dynamic. I knew I could survive the next 24 hours without my children, but the realization that I would be spending around 40% less time with them each week shattered me.
Then, something shifted as I drove home: I recognized that I had a choice. I could either allow myself to wallow in sadness every time I dropped them off or I could embrace this new reality and rediscover who I am without my kids. I chose the latter because I realized that this was my life now — our life — and wallowing in misery wouldn’t serve anyone, least of all my children. I wanted them to enjoy their time with their father without worrying about my feelings.
Of course, that doesn’t mean I don’t experience sadness. There are moments when the temptation to spiral into self-pity is strong. But I’ve learned that it’s possible to miss them while still enjoying life in their absence. This adjustment has been one of the toughest challenges I’ve faced, yet it has also been profoundly healing.
I now make it a point to have dinner with friends weekly. I’ve caught up on movies and treated myself to numerous pedicures. More importantly, I’ve found the value in spending quality time alone. It’s crucial for my well-being, especially since this arrangement will continue until my kids are adults. They will be spending nearly half their time with their father.
Did it take time and effort to reach this point? Absolutely. I didn’t magically transform into someone who relished alone time overnight. But I was determined to make the best of this situation. Even now, a year later, I still feel pangs of sadness. There are evenings when I have to force myself to go out and see people I care about, even when all I want is to stay under the covers. Yet, I find that when I do venture out, I am always glad I did.
I don’t want my happiness to hinge solely on my kids being with me, and I know they don’t want that either. Children can sense their parents’ struggles, even if we try to hide it. So when I pick them up, they always ask what I did while they were away, and it genuinely makes me happy to share that I had a great time but am glad they are back.
In conclusion, navigating shared custody has taught me to embrace my time alone and to prioritize my happiness while also supporting my children in their relationship with their father. It’s a journey, but one that has enriched my life immeasurably.
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