After we hung up the phone, I noticed a strong feeling move through me. I checked in with my heart and stayed with what was there.

First came resentment — resentment that she could travel, that she could get up and go while I felt stuck here.

Underneath the resentment was jealousy. And underneath the jealousy — something I wanted. To travel. My emotions pointed to something real.

But there was still no peace. Something deeper stirred. So I stayed.

Then the word arrived.

Abandoned.

And with it — a memory. Seven years old. My mother has left the country for three weeks. I am staying with my grandmother. I do not feel safe there.

I felt it.

Five months ago, my daughter moved out. After 29 years of being a parent, this chapter has come to a close.
When I started taking selfies, I realized I was lost.
I don’t know what to do with myself.

My house stays clean. There’s barely any laundry. The fridge is full.
I’ve spent decades raising two children, caring for a sick husband, and an aging mother. Now my life is quiet. Still.

I have all this energy — and I don’t know where to direct it.

“I don’t know” is the black water I’m swimming in.

And then I heard these words