I'm feeling no relief in my head, just doubt.

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When I quit six months ago, I honestly believed that my heart had already been demolished—a product of the wrecking ball steadily tapping against it for the past year. Apparently, the demolition crew wasn’t finished.

I keep comparing SCKY to a boyfriend: the tears and the betrayal I felt, the sense of accomplishment and happiness, the incomprehensible bond between me and it.

So when I finally “broke up” with SCKY, I knew for sure that the healing process wasn’t going to be short. What I didn’t bargain for however, is how hard it would be because it wasn’t a “clean” break.

A “clean” break—where all contact between both parties is nonexistent is agonizingly painful in the beginning, but as time slowly passes the pain recedes and moving on seems like a viable option. It’s the healthy way to end a relationship—leaving those tantalizing hanging threads makes it that much easier to fall back into a relationship that’s ended (and for very valid and legitimate reasons).

My break up with SCKY wasn’t a clean break, because how do I completely sever ties with 25 beautiful kids overnight?