@livewellwithsophie
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@livewellwithsophie My daughter turns four tomorrow, and tonight I’m sitting alone wrapping her presents. I won’t wake up with her. I haven’t spend a single birthday with my daughters actually, other than the day I gave birth to both of them. Some way or another, the day always lands with him. Somewhere along the way, I stopped fighting over days, hours, and who gets what, because we really do need to decide what we give our energy to. Instead, there’s an invitation to come round in the morning, watch her open her presents, and get ready for the party together. On paper, it sounds like friendly co-parenting. But it never feels that simple. First comes the glimpse of the family I always wanted: the four of us together, presents on the floor, both parents in the same room. Then come the questions. “Is this really what you want?” “Wouldn’t it be easier if we were a family?” And suddenly, I’m questioning everything again. That’s the pull of a toxic relationship. Time passes, the bad days blur, and you remember the good. You see your children with both their parents and wonder whether you got it wrong, gave up too soon, or whether this time could be different. Part of you desperately wants to believe it. I don’t want two homes or birthdays apart. I wanted my family. But wanting the family you imagined isn’t the same as wanting the relationship you had. So for the woman who still feels pulled back years later: leaving isn’t always one brave decision. Sometimes you have to keep making it. You can miss your family and still remember why you left. You can grieve the life you wanted without returning to the life that hurt you. And most of the time choosing yourself doesn’t feel empowering. Sometimes it looks like sitting alone, wishing things could have been different, and choosing yourself anyway. ❤️
