I thought I felt a shift coming on. 

I thought that when he said that he wouldn’t do anything to harm the girls and me, that went beyond the promises to never lay his hands on me again. Safety is measured in more than not being afraid of being hurt. It comes from a sense of security, a sense of knowing that the basics will be there. That you will not starve or be cold. 

Pero I should have known better. I should have remembered the promises made before, and broken, not just by him pero by a long line of men starting with daddy. A long line of men for whom it is too easy not to worry and slip back into their lives. 

And I wasn’t going to be one of those women. I wasn’t going to be one of those women dragging her ex to court for child support and garnishing paychecks. I don’t want the government in my business or the business of anyone else close to me. 

Pero the shift wasn’t in my favor. I have about another month left here under the current lease. Hopefully the landlord will let me and just me sign a new one for another year or even stay on a month to month until the summer when I can move to a more affordable city porque, NYC, you aren’t kind to a single artista/writer mami and her two kids. If the landlord won’t let me sign a new lease then I am officially fucked, scrambling to find an apartment that I can afford. 

He’s leaving this week and part of me is relieved, as I know he is too, pero the logistics are making my head spin, as is the thought of being pretty damn close to homelessness. Child support, public assistance, apartments, moving, budgets, needing more work, child care, all of these things and the shift. 

Remember when I thought this would all end nicely? 

Ja ja. 

Yeah. I’m not feeling so damned nice anymore.

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