Every day, my life as a single mom is tough.

Every. Single. Day.

Let me give an example. I live in Northern Utah. As this year’s snow season started, we wondered when we should put on our snow tires. This is an event we dread and avoid as long as possible. Not only due to the expense, but because it makes the cars run rougher and louder. At the end of October, I was scheduled to fly to Los Angeles to attend a client open house. The night before I was set to leave, a winter storm warning was issued. My kids were worried and upset because we still had not put on the tires and things appeared as if they were going to be messy and dangerous. Their worry and fear led to, of course, my worry and fear. I laid awake all night wondering what to do and chastising myself for not having the foresight to put on the snow tires earlier in the year. Now, I had a plane to catch in the morning and no recourse. Finally, I came up with a solution. I got up while the night still slept, loaded the tires in the separate cars, took a shower, and was parked at the tire shop the moment they opened. I explained my dilemma: I had three cars that needed snow tires put on in a few hours. They said they could help. Then I said, “K, um, I have a plane to catch, so I’m going to be doing my hair in your bathroom.” The guy laughed…but then he saw I was serious. And so it went. In between sessions of driving to drop off and deliver cars, I curled my hair in a public bathroom. Yes, it was awkward and embarrassing, but what choice did I have? I made it to the plane okay, and the kids were able to travel to work and school safely. But long about the time when I was supposed to be chipper and upright for the client open house that evening, I was crashing in a big way from my lack of sleep and early morning activities.

It’s the life of a single mom. Maybe if you are reading this you understand. I’ve got to earn a living and I’ve got to keep my kids safe. Somehow, I also am supposed to run a house, keep up the yard, hold a church calling, and delve into recovery self-care.

Yeah, I’m not keeping up.

I own my own business, which is capricious to the tidal shifts of the economy. It is true feast and famine and I never know which environment I will be operating in on any given day. It’s scary not to have a financial safety net of benefits and a steady paycheck. My worry for my kids never ceases. Whether quiet or vocal, I have serious concerns about how they will ever come to terms with what happened with their dad. My house is always a disaster—ranging in status from erupting whirlpool of chaos to World War III ground zero. When I take care of one thing, two other equally important things plop themselves unbidden onto my never-ending to-do list. It just doesn’t end…ever.

Every once in a while, particularly when I am tired or overwhelmed, I wonder why I decided to end my marriage. Why I would choose a life of stress and tumult over my old life where at least I had financial security and someone who mowed the lawn.

Then I take a deep breath. I remind myself that I made an impossibly hard choice for the happiness of myself and my children. I am a warrior-mommy. There is no doubt in my mind that even my most difficult day as a single woman is infinitely better than any day with my ex-husband. Because now I choose.

-I choose spiritual health and safety. Today, I live in a home where the spirit of my heavenly father soars unconstrained. There is  no one here covertly watching or participating in behavior that is in opposition to the vows we made at marriage. No one shares the same walls with me who is breaking covenants with intent. The adversary no longer is allowed free reign in my home.

-I choose love unfeigned. I now only have relationships with ethical individuals who do not live false lives. People who share my values. I don’t have to live with a man who is not worthy to be my husband and who doesn’t try, even as years pass where I yearn and beg for him to be the man I hoped he would be. I am better off with the difficult days rather than spending time with someone who does not even attempt to understand my physical and emotional needs. I now nurture myself.

-I choose peace. I don’t have to look over my shoulder every waking moment, anticipating when the dam of secrets will break open. Wondering—really knowing—that my worst nightmare is going to come true. It has already happened. It’s over. I can focus on healing myself and my children. I am free from terrifying discoveries always lurking around the corners to blow up in my face.

-I choose freedom. Yes, I am ridiculously busy. But I now unabashedly spend the limited free time I have in self-care and chasing the dreams I desire for my life. I don’t have to cater to the needs of a man who selfishly takes and takes and takes yet has nothing to give.

I read a statement recently that said something to the effect that loneliness is not a physical state, it is about the quality of your relationships and getting out of them what you want and need. I love this definition because it confirms what my instincts have been telling me all along: I am actually less lonely now that I am divorced.

I embrace each and every day of my messy, lonely, stressful life. Because I choose to.