Lately, I’ve been getting a lot of support from the people around me. It’s comforting, but at the same time, it stings. Because no matter how much love surrounds me, I know that in just 28 days, everything changes again.
Why did this have to happen in February, the shortest month of the year? It feels like time is slipping through my fingers faster than I can process it. Just as I’m starting to feel like I belong, I’m reminded that this isn’t permanent. And that feeling—belonging—is something I hate because it makes leaving even harder.
But maybe, just maybe, this was necessary. Over the past year, I’ve burned bridges, hurt people, and distanced myself from relationships I should have nurtured. Now, I have the chance to fix what’s broken. To make amends. To prove to myself and to others that I can be better.
Still, there’s a selfish part of me that whispers: What if I stayed? What if I continued my life here, even though my daughter isn’t with me? The thought alone makes me feel guilty. But it’s the truth—I want her here. I want to bring her into this new life I’m beginning to love. I want to share this fresh start with her.
But now, that’s not an option. And that reality is crushing.
So, I have 28 days. 28 days to figure out what comes next. 28 days to decide how to carry this new version of myself forward, even if it means leaving behind a life I was finally starting to embrace.
The Fourth Trimester 