This morning, in our home, we threw an epic dance party. With Lizzo and Taylor Swift pumping through the kitchen, my partner Jake grabbed his phone to capture our fun. My 1-year-old and 4-year-old danced around me, laughing and singing our favorite songs, while Jake smiled from ear to ear. It was the perfect distraction we needed before the storm that awaits us tomorrow. Tomorrow, Jake will fly across the country for a job that will keep him away for six months. I’ll be back East, navigating solo parenting again, a situation I’ve become all too familiar with. Jake’s previous jobs have often demanded long hours and brought added stress, but this time, there’s a heartbreaking twist.
My best friend, my partner in life, and the father of my children is leaving us for half a year.
I spent nearly a decade in California, where I met Jake through an online dating platform after my first marriage ended badly. In classic chaotic fashion, I quickly became a stepmom to his daughter and was pregnant with our first child within months. In three short years, our family grew; I gave birth to our daughter, Willow, we married in his parents’ backyard, and soon after, our son, Oliver, came along. We’ve been on this wild rollercoaster together since we found each other, but I never anticipated that some of those dips would lead me to such dark places.
Balancing the challenges of early motherhood and step-parenting was extremely difficult. I faced a tough situation, struggling to find work, dealing with the high cost of living in Los Angeles, and grappling with mental health issues I had never experienced before. After Willow’s third birthday, I received a diagnosis of complex PTSD due to past trauma, and everything fell into place: the muscle spasms, panic attacks, and chronic feelings of self-harm started making sense. It felt like the ground beneath me had vanished as I tried to move forward with this overwhelming diagnosis. I was tired of feeling like a burden, to the point where I contemplated ending my life.
I’m eternally grateful that I didn’t.
We moved to the East Coast to be closer to Jake’s family, save money, and allow me to receive the mental health treatment I needed. Jake sacrificed a promising directing career to support us, and I am always aware of that incredible act of love. Initially, we planned to stay in New Hampshire for a year to find freelance work that would allow us to be at home with the kids. Things were going fairly well until Jake finished a contract and couldn’t find anything for two months. Suddenly, I was using an EBT card at the grocery store, visiting food pantries, and relying on family for financial assistance.
Then, unexpectedly, a wave of job offers came in for Jake from West Coast animation studios. After many tearful late-night talks, we realized our family was in dire need of financial relief, and even though it meant being apart temporarily, these jobs could be our saving grace. Within a week, Jake was hired for an exciting directing job, signed a six-month contract, and began searching for housing in California.
As you can imagine, emotions are running high in our household. My young son has no idea that his favorite grown-up is about to leave, and my daughter is doing her best to process her feelings about her dad’s departure. I’m attempting to maintain a strong exterior for my family while internally grappling with the implications for my mental health recovery.
Jake has been my unwavering support. He has overcome so much in his past, emerging as a loving, dedicated, and empathetic partner. He has been a stable anchor throughout my tumultuous mental health journey, and I genuinely don’t know how I’ll cope without him. I’m trying to stay optimistic, think of solutions, and recognize how far I’ve come from the days when I wanted to disappear. But I also need to allow myself to grieve the loss of his presence.
Ultimately, we hope to reunite in California as a complete family. It will require patience, hard work, and navigating the challenges of single parenting, but I’m determined to make it happen. I have an incredible therapist and am on life-saving antidepressants that have significantly helped me. However, the return of some PTSD-related muscle spasms in the final week before his departure makes me anxious about how I’ll manage everything alone.
More than anything, parents facing such challenges need compassion, safe spaces to break down, and ongoing support. We need to understand that it’s okay not to be okay. Even though I grasp this concept deeply, it’s difficult to achieve when those around me don’t fully comprehend my struggles. A significant part of my complex PTSD stems from a lack of encouragement, unconditional love, and stability during my childhood. I learned early on that my feelings overwhelmed others, and my needs were less important than those of the adults in my life.
Outside of therapy and medication, Jake has provided me with the most substantial corrective experience in my adult life. While I don’t expect anyone to fill that role while he is away, I know I must reparent myself during this time. Still, the thought of his absence weighs heavily on my heart. I will miss the man who laughs at my silly mom jokes, who offers his arms as a refuge during my toughest moments, and who reminds me of my beauty every day. I will miss our cozy evenings spent together after the kids are asleep and the joy of watching our children climb on his back as he relaxes on the living room floor.
I will give myself the space to miss him.
My deepest hope is that by this time next year, I’ll no longer be mourning his absence. I envision waking up in our future California home, with the kids bouncing around as we head to the kitchen for endless cups of coffee. I picture sitting on a porch with my best friend, sharing a moment as the Los Angeles sun sets. I see weekends filled with Disney movie marathons, cozy pajamas, and stolen kisses during the chaos of weekday mornings. I will hold onto these memories on days when I doubt my ability to manage alone. And I will cherish these images when video calls and phone conversations fall short of the real thing. At night, I will snuggle up with our children, missing the warmth of Jake’s presence beside me.
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Summary
As my partner prepares for a six-month work assignment across the country, I face the emotional challenge of solo parenting while managing my mental health. Despite the struggles, I hold onto hope for the future and the joy of reuniting as a family. It’s a journey filled with both anticipation and anxiety, but one that I am determined to navigate with strength and resilience.
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