Walking away...at a snails pace.

My family is moving. And I feel as though my clothes are snagged on the fence, unable to move forward or back.

This snowball of a life change started a few months ago when my husband was offered a chance at a real career...yes, up to this point I did consider what he does a job. (When you leave home every day and come home unhappy and unfulfilled, I have a hard time believing that you're in a career.) Anyway, as we were discussing our options, I was reminded of the 'vow' I made over six years ago. When I fell in love with this man, I had this overwhelming urge to make his happiness a priority of mine. I silently vowed to help and urge him to discover a passion and go after it. I truly believe that the challenges we face throughout life make us stronger but I also believe that everyone deserves a chance to find happiness.

This was Corey's chance.

So here I am, alone on this fence. After days and days of crying, worrying, talking about the good, bad and potential ugly (and potential greatness), I took a three-day break from my life. I felt I had hit my lowest low a week or two earlier and needed a fresh perspective. So a friend and I headed to Vegas...the land where nothing is real and that's okay.

I came back tired and maybe a little hungover, but I had rediscovered a piece of myself that I've been neglecting. I was ready to face this thing head-on. Two days after landing back in the Midwest, I journeyed up to our new area of residency. We rented a small, older home. I began thinking of what I needed to put in storage and what I need to leave out in order to make this feel like home to our children. I was once again filled with a sense of family that I've been missing since my husband's been gone. It was verging on peace and comfort...and then the waiting game officially began.

Now I'm here, working two jobs. Two jobs that I love dearly. With people that I genuinely care about. And I have six weeks to say goodbye. It's what I asked for. And yet, I'm a little afraid it's going to hurt worse in the long run.

This is one big-ass band-aid that I seem to be pulling off millimeter by millimeter.