I’m standing in the doorway between two worlds—one where kids needed me 24/7 and one where I’m suddenly… solo, confused, excited, broke, free, sad, guilty, proud, untethered, and on my third snack of the hour because you don’t know what else to do. 😅
Empty Nest, Full Heart(ache): What the Hell Do I Do Now?
I thought I wanted this.
I mean, of course they were going to grow up. That was the whole point, right? To raise them to leave. I’ve been mentally prepping for this chapter for years—fantasizing about solo dance parties, bathroom privacy, and doing whatever I want, whenever I want.
But now that it’s here? Now that I’m sitting in a half-emptied apartment in Corydon, surrounded by boxes, memories, and echoes?
It’s hitting different.
👩👧👧 The Girls Are Grown-ish
Nikita’s off building her own little family, and honestly, she seems happy. She’s doing her thing, and I’m proud of her. Truly.
Mia, on the other hand… is in the thick of heartbreak, healing, and hurrying into adulthood like it’s some kind of escape room. She wants the grown-up title, the mommy badge, the partner role—and I get it. I really do. But let me be clear: that girl is not domesticated. Not even a little. 😂 She did not pay attention during Mom 101, and now poor Kaden is over there trying to hold it down. Good Luck Bro.
🧭 The Crossroads
Every parent hits this fork in the road. It’s bittersweet. It’s confusing. It’s liberating. It’s brutal.
I’m about to move to Philly—for necessary reasons (hellooo surgeries and healing)—but the timing feels like crap. There’s so much loss happening all at once: grief, distance, heartbreak, identity shifts… and it’s all tangled together in a ball in the bottom of the box.
And here I am, technically free.
I can do whatever I want.
But also—I’m poor. 😂 I wouldn’t make it three blocks hitchhiking. My bank account is giving ✨ humble ✨ while my soul is screaming “ADVENTURE IS OUT THERE” – AJR
✨ What Now?
That’s the question echoing through my chest:
“What do I even want now?”
I’ve spent so long surviving, parenting, caregiving, and navigating loss that I forgot what it’s like to choose for me. Like… for real.
And yet, the universe keeps showing up. It keeps delivering. THEY are on fire! 🔥🔥🔥
Opportunities to get involved with Autism Awareness in Princeton(manifesting). A new city. A fresh start. A blank canvas. It’s all happening.
So why do I feel like crying?
Because this moment is sacred. It’s grief and growth holding hands. It’s the death of who I was, and the birth of whoever the hell I’m becoming.
💡 Realizations While Crying in a Cardboard Box:
You can mourn your old life and still be grateful for the new one.
Freedom feels weird when you’ve never had it before.
You can want space and still miss the chaos.
You’re not selfish for choosing yourself now.
So yeah. My nest is empty. My bank account is screaming. My heart is full of contradictions.
But I’m packing up, showing up, and starting again.
And I have no plan.
Just a little courage, a lot of trauma wisdom, and maybe some mini skittles for the road.
Because the plan comes after.
Right now? I just need a moment of bravery. That’s it.