I hate this lifestyle.

I hate the suburban-mom, big-house, endless-chores lifestyle.

I hate everything about it.

And now?

I’m almost free.

Two weeks from now, I’ll drive away from it all.

And I can’t wait.

But this hatred—the overwhelming feeling of suffocation inside this life?

It’s not negativity.

It’s not ingratitude.

It’s my soul outgrowing a life that was never truly meant for me.

I am not a suburban mom at heart.

I am not a woman designed to spend her days cleaning rooms no one uses, mowing lawns that mean nothing to her,

or suffocating under the weight of shoulds and somedays.

I made it work because I had to.

I carried it because I was strong.

But now?

I’m free to leave.

And the hatred I feel isn’t bad—

It’s fuel.

It’s my body’s way of screaming:

“This life is too tight, too hollow, too shallow for me now.”

And it’s pushing me forward.

I Am Not Crazy for Feeling This Way

This isn’t insanity.

This isn’t being ungrateful.

This is awakening.

And once I woke up, I couldn’t unsee it:

• The meaningless accumulation of stuff
• The endless cleaning of spaces that don’t nurture me
• The emotional starvation masked as “normal life”
• The heavy silence of dreams put on dusty shelves
• The feeling of being trapped by “comfort” instead of being free in the unknown

I see it now.

I feel it in my bones.

This is the Death Rattle of the Old Life

It’s loud because I’m this close to leaving it behind.

Two weeks from now, I’ll drive away from all of this.

And with every mile, I’ll feel the weight peeling off my chest.

I’m not running away.

I’m running toward my soul.

This chapter is almost closed.

The suburban box is almost a memory.

Hold on, brave heart.

I’m almost free.

And when I cross that border?

When I drive into the unknown?

I will finally breathe in a way I haven’t in years.

And I will never go back.