It is amazing to me how quickly one can pack up a life and fit it into neatly taped boxes. The next two days I spent dispersing my animals across three counties, taking care of my kids, looking for job leads and packing. When we moved in a year earlier I had taken a three bedroom house and fit into a giant trailer. I had gotten rid of the antique curio cabinet from my dining room, my plaid furniture I bought as my first brand new set, countless kitchen platters and dishes that were no longer needed. I moved into the house in the hopes we would but new stuff together. Now as I packed the house I realized I was leaving with nothing more then our clothes, assorted holiday decorations, more knick knacks then any one person needs and three beds. My bed most importantly. My bed I bought myself when I had my first spinal surgery. My bed that jolly guy was sleeping in while I was sleeping on assorted couches. I wished I could take the bed with me that day, but I wasn’t ready with movers yet. I booked a truck, got a few friends and some high school aged teenage friends of my daughters to come help. I would be leaving in one more day. I almost couldn’t stand the anticipation. I needed to be done with him and that house and this mess immediately. I piled the boxes in each room as I went through room by room and packed. That night I received another text from jolly guy. The last one I would ever receive. It went like this “this is how you leave your shit? Packed all over my fucking house? I want you the fuck out” I didn’t respond to that text. I tried like hell to get through the next two days. I focused on my daughter and packing and planning. This was no longer about jolly guy and his heartless existence as a human being. This was now about survival. I had to survive. Sounds dramatic, but when everything you ever thought was important including close to the life of your child, everything is fight or flight. Everything becomes clear. Everything is about getting through the next minute, hour, day. I just had to get through these two days. With every breath I took I wasn’t sure I’d make it. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to survive this. What if this is what broke me? What if I didn’t survive this? That’s the thing with rock bottom, once you’re there, there’s nowhere to go but up.