Breaking up a relationship is never easy, especially when its your first. For some reason, I never thought that we’d marry and grow old together but I just thought that somehow, we’d always BE together. I loved my child’s father, and it bothered me that he didn’t love me the same way. however when I realized that it wasn’t going anywhere I had to stop punishing myself. I had to stop sticking around, but not really sticking around. Moving from being his second girlfriend to his baby mother that he screws on the side.
It was destructive and unhealthy, and for years after moving on I had to wonder if I made the right decision. Yet, we had a child to raise, so we were cordial, like old friends who had decided that a relationship wasn’t worth the friendship. He seemed happy, moving from relationship to relationship, breaking hearts just like he broke mine. I was happy-ish, not quite, searching for someone to love me, but hey, it was life.
My daughter was growing nicely, moving from the baby phase, making trouble to chatting up a storm and looking more like her father every single day. Life was great for a while, we had a system and it worked, until we started fighting. We fought like cats and dogs when it wasn’t one thing, it was the next; we argue about Ali’s clothes, why he didn’t pick her up for daycare, who I was dating at the time, just a bunch of bullshit.
It was exhausting and sometimes I wished I had listened to my father when he warned me from him.