When “no” becomes a dominant voice in our heads, it acts like an autoimmune disease, shutting down our own possibilities
By contrast, starting with “yes” energizes, creates safety and trust and fuels creativity.
Since moving to Amsterdam five years ago, slowly I started to find the courage to admit to myself that I was living in, and by default, contributing to a destructive cycle of emotional damage within the relationship I had with the father of my children. That this relationship was shaping me in a way which I felt both extremely uncomfortable and unrecognizable.
I found myself between two worlds. Outside of the rela-tionship, I was building a life, making friends, having success within my work, and feeling intellectually curious. Within the relationship; non of this existed ... apart from the amazing children, who seemed to have the best of us both plus a delightfully independent sense of self. Within the family home, confusion, tension, anger
- the weight of pretending everything was ok became unbearable.
In April 2019, the separation started, but cohabitation continued. Knowing this was untenable, we both sought solutions .. without agreement, long story short: we found ourselves still cohabiting as The Netherlands announced the first lockdown. We were drowning: unable to communicate as adults, the added pressure of home-schooling, and nowhere to hide.
Isolation within isolation, we sunk further beyond any limits I personally understood. Help was given; the crisis was seen ... and by July 2020, the father of my children had moved into an apartment close by. As he moved in, a co-parenting rota was formed. Naturally, the children were with him as he settled into this new home. Left behind, I was overwhelmed by the space and the stale smell of emotion which lingered in the air.
Throughout the lockdown, I had been so focused on surviving, waiting for the day where we both occupied separate space, and could have the chance to focus on both recovery and parenting our children - well I had given no thought as to how I would feel once that had happened.
The first few days, I could only sit in one chair; looking at the space of what had once been a hopeful family home When the children returned, I kicked in to mama-mode ...then when they went to their father's ... I slumped emotionally exhausted.
Isolation within isolation, we sunk further beyond any limits I personally understood. Help was given; the crisis was seen ... and by July 2020, the father of my children had moved into an apartment close by. As he moved in, a co-parenting rota was formed. Naturally, the children were with him as he settled into this new home. Left behind, I was overwhelmed by the space and the stale smell of emotion which lingered in the air.
Throughout the lockdown, I had been so focused on surviving, waiting for the day where we both occupied separate space, and could have the chance to focus on both recovery and parenting our children - well I had given no thought as to how I would feel once that had happened.
The first few days, I could only sit in one chair; looking at the space of what had once been a hopeful family home When the children returned, I kicked in to mama-mode ...then when they went to their father's ... I slumped emotionally exhausted.
By August; I was trying everything to find a routine, to find moments of life which reminded me of who I was, who I might be.
I said YES on the 29th August 2020; because on that day: the image, the poem felt like something I needed - even though I couldn't have told you why at that point.
What I know now, and it took a while to realize ...I needed to move as well. Staying in the family home, while it provided continuity for the children, I also kept us in a place of pain.
In a new house, which will become home; and a place where recovery can happen, and I can teach my children how to rebuild, strengthen resilience and become themselves,
Published by Anouk Cleoone
