Two years ago, I moved out of the home that I shared with my ex-husband and his children. The morning started off as it normally would by getting the kids ready for school and sending them out the door. That day was also my moving day.

Today, two years later, we signed the refinancing papers that removed my name from the house we once shared together. It’s a milestone in the journey of moving forward, but like most things in life, it’s not without its complexities.

As I signed what used to be my last name, there was a deep sense of finality in the moment—that house was the last tangible tie to that chapter of my life. On one hand, it’s a relief. While he made the mortgage payments, that financial connection was a reminder of a life I hadn’t lived in two years.

Now, that weight has been lifted, and I’m free to focus on what lies ahead. It’s empowering to know that I’ve reclaimed my independence and am moving forward.

But there’s a bittersweet feeling, too. That house wasn’t just bricks and mortar—it was my home for a period of time. It held memories, dreams, and the plans we once had together. Walking away from that means walking away from more than just property. It’s the final act of letting go, and that stirs emotions that are hard to describe.

Even though I know this is the right step, it doesn’t mean it’s without sadness. I’ve learned through this process that moving forward requires allowing yourself to feel both the joy and the sorrow, the excitement for new beginnings and the mourning of what’s left behind.

Today isn’t just about signing papers; it’s about closing a chapter, and with that comes both a sense of closure and an understanding that the path ahead is full of promise, for the both of us.

It’s time for a new home, a new beginning, and a new story—one that’s mine to write.