Living alone means putting on a constant brave face for the children. I lived with my brother and the kids for about three years (while I was dealing with some mental health issues and beyond) and I learned to lean on having a male presence in the house. Living without that extra comfort has been a nearly devastating adjustment.


I’ve taught my girls to run to the bedroom whenever there is an unexpected knock at our front door. When I hear footsteps in the main hallway of the apartment after 9pm my heart skips a beat. Single mothers are statistics for more than the obvious reasons. We are easy targets, we stick to a routine, are usually multi-tasking and in the presence of small children. On the outside my face will always be brave. On the inside I live in fear almost every single day—I am aware it is a psychological adjustment that I need to make. And maybe if I tell my little girls that every thing will be ok enough, I too will start to believe it.



Published by Whiskey