I feel I live my life by this. Or I try to. As much as I don’t consider myself religious, the words have always resonated with me.
Sometimes it’s difficult to know the difference between what we can change and what we can’t.
I do know that I never settle.
If I don’t like my job, I’m there on Indeed, looking for another.
If I start a book and it doesn’t grip me straight away, I put it down and find another.
If I watch a new Netflix series and it’s not gripping, I turn it over and find another.
I am not shallow, but I am aware that life is short. We get one life, why settle?!
We can complain, or we can change it. The choice is ours.
The thought of being stuck in a job I hate or a loveless marriage, terrifies me.
Every day we are faced with many choices and decisions. Most we have the power and capacity to choose.
These last 3.5 years, I’ve endured so much I did not choose. Life has thrown so much crap at me that I could not control. I have never felt so powerless.
Since my husband was released from prison in December 2022, we have had to live apart. He is able to spend time with the kids and I at our home but overnight he has to sleep at his parents house.
To say I hate this is an understatement.
Every night my heart breaks as I go to bed and he leaves the children and I to return to his childhood home and sleep in his parents box room.
Probation have dragged this out as much as they possibly can. He has 16 months on licence and they will not allow him home until he has done the Horizon course which is 32 weeks long. It will finish the week after his licence ends.
I am trying, with all my might, to be patient. I am trying, with all my might to be positive. To live in the moment, to enjoy each day, to appreciate where we are and how far we have come.
It’s there though, every single day. I cannot accept that we cannot live together, so far down the line. Our youngest child is 12 and a boy. It seems completely unfair.
I know this is my husbands doing. I also know that he is rehabilitating. He always will be. His offending was born from addiction so this is something he will always have to work on.
However, this situation for the boys and I, who haven’t done anything wrong, is an archaic form of punishment.
I have sacrificed so much to stand by my husband and keep my family together. Yet we are still not able to sleep in the same bed. We will not be able to wake up together Christmas morning.
How do I ever reach that level of acceptance?
I try every single day. But it’s always there. An itch I am desperately trying not to scratch.
After the knock 