This was it. Day 10. This was the morning everyone met at my parents to take the drive up to jolly guys and move me out. Four woman, five teenage boys, my daughters and one man. I can hear the audio recording of gone girl in my head when I say it: ten days home. That’s all it took. Day 1, happy to see me, Day 4 not speaking, Day 6 no longer sleeping there, Day 10…moving. We arrived at jolly guys house and I couldn’t help but continue to stare right into the outside security cameras i knew he’d be watching after we left. We walked the rooms and my guy friend asks “what first?” Without hesitation I said “the bed” it took all day in the dinky truck I got to move me out. 6 trips back and forth to my parents and when we were done, on the last piece to move I looked up at the cameras, smiled and gave him the finger. Prick. I stood at my parents house and my whole life now fit in boxes in their garage. It’s amazing what a life can be reduced to. Even though I was scared out of my mind at what was going to happen to my girls and I from here on out, I had a huge sense of relief. I was done. It was over. I blocked his number on my phone. I didn’t say goodbye. There was no closure. That was it. Now the sense of urgency lied in finding a home, a job and getting us back on our feet. It was all on me. Lord knows on one hand I had no idea what to do next, but on the other I was in “handle it” mode. I was operating on adrenaline and I just kept moving. Now the hard part began.