Nomadic Chronicles: Charm in a Concreate Jungle
- Jenny Bee
- Apr 18
- 5 min read
Our little home. Peaceful. New and Exciting. Most Importantly All Mine. My Paradise within the concreate jungle.
I was surprised at how quickly Lily and I settled in. What seemed unnatural, quickly shifted into 'normal' a routine that became like second nature.
I’ll be honest, at first, having two whole free weekends a month felt weird. Like, who am I without soccer games, snack duty, or full-on mom-mode every second? For a brief moment, I felt guilty—ashamed even—for having extra time and not knowing how to fill it. What was I supposed to do, take up knitting? Bake cupcakes for fun? Maybe it's a mom thing, but damn, the guilt hit hard. Perhaps, I'll just lie down and wait for the tide to come in. Don't mind me, I'll just be over here waiting..... (.... still waiting...)
Building a new life and routine meant focusing on healing—ours, mostly hers. Divorce sucks for kids. They don't get it, and what they do get is awful. I worked my ass off to be the mom she deserved while doing my best to honor and respect her dad—yes, soon-to-be ex-husband. Family photos stayed up, her room stayed the same, and I bought a house phone so she had her own line to reach him. I supported, listened, held my tongue, comforted, and tried to stay strong. But let's be real: when you're also trying not to lose your mind, you can only give so much. Therapy? Oh, Lily was in there faster than I could say, “Does this qualify as a deductible?” Because let’s face it, we all know how brutal unpacking childhood trauma can be as an adult—an absolute must-do, yet the worst DIY project in existence.
My therapy? Journaling. Scratch that: slamming. I had my "slam book" for all the rage, sadness, relief, and nonsense I couldn’t scream out loud. No cute gratitude prompts or inspirational quotes, just raw venting. Sure, I was thrilled to be free—to finally take control of my life—but God, was it hard. Infuriatingly hard. I spent too long tolerating crap, forgiving crap, excusing crap. And after all that CRAP, my thoughts and boundaries still didn’t matter. If someone could refund wasted years, I’d be first in line. Shit ain't that a real thought!
But, as much as I hated admitting it, there was good mixed into the chaos. My needs? Unmet, for sure. But it wasn’t all bad. There were decent moments. And we made Lily, which is hands-down the best damn thing to come from that marriage.
Still, hindsight packs a punch, doesn’t it? I felt stupid—like, Olympic-level stupid—for blindly believing in “forever” and commitment. Would’ve been nice to tell myself, “Jen, honey, run.” Instead, I handed over my youth and left my aspirations to wilt in the corner. Leaving should’ve felt easy. Logical. Liberating. Instead, it felt like failing. Great, add it to the list.
Check
And Check... FUCK!
Then the plot thickened: accepting his new flame. At first, I couldn’t be bothered—he was her problem now, not mine. I wished them luck, truly. But as a woman? Come on, ladies. Poaching someone else's husband isn’t cute. It cheapens the whole idea of commitment, and honestly, it’s bound to backfire sooner or later. Relationships built on shaky foundations? Recipe for disaster. (Seriously doubt it's been all rainbows and butterfly's... but what do I know... oh wait...)
Speaking of disasters, can we talk about his social media stalking and ALL of those phone calls? It’s hilarious how attached he seemed to me despite parading the “new love of his life” all over town. While he blew up my phone and lurked on my socials. And don't even get me started on how he drug his feet in signing the divorce papers. Yup, I was SOOO impressed....
What about Me? Well, I was on the clean-break plan. No calls, no lurking back. Seriously, fresh starts? (Chef’s kiss.)
Truth is, I'm just not honestly one to dwell...
Okay, I admit there have been a few people that I struggled to let go of... Let's just say they made a lasting impression (Code for- from time to time I will visit their socials). But man, I tell ya, that lasting impression is just SOOOO compelling... HINT HINT WINK WINK (See above)
Anyways....
There I was, pacing the living room like some caged lion—house spotless, dishes done, and, wait for it, even the laundry folded and put away. Who am I? TBH, I was bored AF. Turns out my “reclaimed weekends” weren’t living up to the hype. Then, like a lightbulb moment (cue the dramatic music), it hit me: Wait a second—I’ve got a car, money in the bank, and zero responsibilities. I mean, I’m a whole-ass adult with freedom. What the hell am I still doing here?!
Suddenly, I was unstoppable. In one smooth move (seriously, imagine Superman but cooler), I grabbed my jacket, keys, debit card, and ID, and practically flew out the door—slamming it behind me for emphasis, because freedom deserves a dramatic exit. I was free! FUCK YEAH!
Free to blast my music like a rebellious teenager. Free to stay out all night like I was living my best life. Free to spend my money on whatever I damn well pleased.
Just… FUCKING free.
And yeah… ...... .... ...
Yup... That lasted about 20 minutes. There I was, coffee in hand, music shaking the neighborhood, parked at a random intersection. Staring blankly at the road ahead, asking myself, “Where the actual fuck am I going?” The reality? Anywhere but home.
I wasn’t sure if I was running from something or running to something—I just knew I needed to move. To feel the wind in my hair, the weight lifted off my back.
Free... I NEEDED to feel free...
So where do you go when you need a moment of clarity?
DUH!? Naturally, the freeway. (Insert dramatic pause as my turn signal clicked and I revved my Subie like a getaway car in a heist movie.) 0 to 80 in about one-minute flat, I mean it is an Outback after all (Shrug).
Aww there she is, isn't she pretty!! (Spoiler alert: RIP, sad, so many bitchin' memories).
Eventually, nature called—no, not that nature. The nature. My sanctuary, my recharging station, the place that reminds me I’m human and not some overstressed android. So, there I was, headed to waterfalls that felt like the universe gently patting my soul. Because let's be honest, nothing puts life into perspective like standing in front of a roaring cascade, thinking, “Yeah, this is where I’m supposed to be.” BREATH EASY MY CHILD! AHHHH...
Welcome to the good Life... (Que the music...)
As I stood there, the mist from the waterfall kissing my face, it hit me—this was it. This was the freedom I had been craving. Not the coffee runs, the freeway sprints, or the slammed doors, but the unshackled, soul-cleansing clarity that only comes when you step outside the chaos and just breathe. And for the first time in forever, I didn’t feel lost. I felt alive.
But of course, life has a funny way of testing you right when you think you’ve found your balance.
Little did I know, my next curveball was waiting just around the corner. Oh, and trust me, it wasn’t throwing underhand.
To be continued... 😉
Comments