The plan was marriage. Family. Love. Laughter. Memories.
The plan was for him to work, and me to stay home. He’d be the breadwinner, I’d be the housewife. He would dedicate himself to the house. I would dedicate myself to the kids.
It’s amazing how great plans sound.
That plan failed. I used to think I failed the plan. Was it my cooking? Was I not dividing my attention properly? Of course it had to be me. Something I was doing. That way, it would be something I could fix. I was wrong. It wasn’t me. It simply wasn’t a great plan. You can’t put two people who aren’t right for each other in a home and except it to work. It was a disaster waiting to happen. No amount of fake smiles on my end was going to change that. But I wanted that life so bad, it was worth the attempt….it was worth all the attempts. I believed in it. I did all I could to make it work. Some things simply aren’t meant to be.
Now I have a new plan.
Be happy.
Be honest with myself.
Stop making long-term plans and expecting them to work. Be prepared for them not to. Enjoy life in the meantime.
Today I went and looked at an apartment. I liked it. I was speechless though. It felt surreal. Too good to be true. But it’s not. It’s really happening. And I love it. It’s a scary adventure, even scarier with two kids. However, I can feel how right it all is. I deserve to be this happy. It’s about damn time I am.
I don’t know how I’m going to do this. I have so much to set into place. Good thing I have better control of my anxiety 
