My marriage hasn't ever been a huge part of this blog. When all of this online world has seemed full to overflowing with loving relationships and supportive partnerships, couples who have each other's backs, two-person teams shovelling the gritty stuff together at the coal face, I've found myself tongue-tied and with little to contribute.
I've presented to you a joyful world in which beautiful, happy children frolic in the fresh country air, eating fresh-baked delights and wearing mumma-made clothes. I've leapt out in pursuit of creative fulfilment, trying to turn business dreams into reality. I've taken lots and lots of pretty pictures. I've thrown humour at it, used big words and neatly constructed sentences. I've tried to give you something of myself without ever giving you the truth of it.
That truth being that my marriage has failed and I've walked away. I just can't do it anymore. I don't want to do it anymore.
Tonight is the third night in my new home, and the first without my girls. I'm a single parent now, but I'm also a part-time parent. And I'm not sure they've invented the words yet for how that reality makes me feel.
And yet, and yet...
My marriage hasn't ever been a huge part of this blog and I'm pretty sure the end of it won't be either. It'll continue to be me and my girls, just painted with different brushstrokes. They're far from the ones I ever imagined back on that shiny white-dress day. But it's our story now. It's my story now.
And I'm going to make sure it's a bloody good one.
Thank you for your beautiful comments of concern after my last post, and to those of you who contacted me via email to check up on me. I am OK. I am surrounded by incredible friends and the unwavering support of my family. I have deep faith in my own resilience and a relentless optimism that rarely lets me down. I promised my babies that everything is going to be just fine, and it will be.