My pantry looks immaculate. Last Christmas, my children gifted me a stunning set of glass storage containers, and I immediately went out to buy even more. There are no bags of chips or cereal boxes cluttering the shelves; everything is neatly stored in matching containers on freshly painted white shelves. I even added playful polka dots to the walls.
At first glance, my life appears wonderful. Yet, the truth is much more complicated. While my friends respond to my photos with awe, asking, “How do you manage it?” and “Can you help me with mine?”, what they don’t see is a mother who is aching for her children, spending hours organizing her pantry just to distract herself.
They cannot perceive the tears I’ve shed or the emptiness I’m struggling to fill. They don’t know how many tissues I’ve gone through or that I was sniffling and red-eyed while scrubbing those shelves.
I enjoy a tidy home as much as anyone, but since my divorce, I’ve channeled my energy into cleaning and organizing, hoping it might alleviate the pain of not having my kids with me due to our custody agreement. While some people turn to alcohol or binge-watch shows, my coping mechanism is keeping my home looking picture-perfect, ready for guests at any moment.
Staying busy is my way of avoiding thoughts of the past—those days filled with family dinners around the kitchen table or cuddling on the couch watching Wheel of Fortune, where the mess could wait until tomorrow. Back then, my life felt organized, but I didn’t need to project the image of a successful single woman who was thriving despite the heartache of losing her family.
In my attempts to mend the void left by my divorce and the shared custody, I’ve experimented with lash extensions, rearranging furniture, and obsessively searching for the ideal throw pillows. I can match my shoes to my cute knit hat before stepping out when my kids aren’t around, but the sadness remains unshakeable.
To outsiders glimpsing my life through social media or at my front door, it may seem like I have everything under control. But in reality, what I have is more time away from my children. And with that time comes a flood of emotions. I can’t change the fact that I don’t see them every day, but I can control the tidiness of my home and how I present myself.
Even though I may have a spotless living space, it doesn’t equate to happiness. I’d gladly trade the pristine appearance for the chaotic mess of family life. Those days mean more to me than the effort I put into filling the void left by my kids not being home every night.
While my ex and I don’t long for each other, I deeply miss seeing my children daily. The absence is a constant grief. Sometimes it’s just a small ache—like when I catch a whiff of dandelions and remember how my son used to gather them for me. Other times, it feels like a bulldozer, especially when I’m alone, and the silence amplifies memories linked to a familiar game show. That’s when I dive into organizing or redecorating, convincing myself that it will help ease my pain.
I know the truth, though: I’m trying to gain control over something—anything—because I can’t control the fact that my kids don’t sleep in their beds every night or that I can’t kiss them goodnight whenever I wish. I may not be able to change my life’s course, but I can shampoo the carpet or paint my nails. For now, that’s all I know how to do.
For those interested in exploring more about home insemination, check out this informative piece on home insemination. It’s a great resource for understanding the journey of creating a family. Additionally, Make a Mom offers excellent products to assist in the process, and ASRM provides valuable information for anyone considering pregnancy options.
In summary, while my life may look picture-perfect from the outside, it masks a deep longing for my children and the reality of navigating a new normal after divorce. I may fill my time with home improvement and organization, but beneath it all lies a mother’s heart aching for her kids.
Leave a Reply