My son is leaving home.

In two weeks time my boy, my firstborn, Sonny, who I adore more than life itself is leaving our home and going to live in a flat with two other guys.

To say that I am heartbroken is an understatement.

Every day, for the past two weeks I have woken up with a tight clenching knotty feeling in my stomach. It’s hideous. Like a Rotweiller that refuses to let go.

I get out of bed and go into the bathroom and I sit on the loo and cry my eyes out quietly.

I don’t know if this is normal. This reaction. Probably not. This has never happened to me before so I don’t know. All I do know is I wasn’t expecting to feel like this.

I have never understood the term ’empty nest syndrome’.  Not until now, at least. 

I used to look at other mothers who still have their kids at home past the age of twenty and think they were a bit weird. That kid needs to move out. Cut the apron strings.

But now it’s happening to me and I feel as though my world is falling apart.

He’s not even going far. Only into town. He’ll be right there. But I don’t care. He’s leaving.

And yes, I hear you, Tessa, when you tell me that he will probably be home again in two months.

And thank you, my sweet girl, you are mature past your years. 

But right now I can only see today and I am terrified of being without my entire family unit. It has always been us four. Always. I can’t bear it.

Two weeks of feeling like this. But you didn’t know, did you?

Of course, you never knew. Because I didn’t tell you. 

You may have seen me on TikTok or on Facebook. You may have read my chatty emails. And you didn’t know that these past 14 days I have been putting on a big fake front to hide the fact that my heart is breaking in two and all I want to do is take my family and run far, far away.

“He had to go some time. They can’t stay forever. You wait until he’s been gone a week, He’ll soon realise which side his bread was buttered”.

I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t know if any of these things are true but still; I don’t care.

I probably won’t publish this post, this string of jumbled words that I am typing rapidly on my keyboard with tears streaming down my face.

But if I do, it will be for one reason only.

Because I want you to know that the person who smiles or waves at you from across the street, or sends you a happy emoji on Facebook? That person who cut you up at the roundabout or ignored your friend request? They’re probably going through shit.

They probably woke up crying.

They probably sat on the loo at eight o’clock in the morning and wished it was bedtime.

They’re probably going through a huge change and adjustment. Feeling like their world is ending.

So please remember. We are all the same.

It happens to us all. Noone is immune to sadness. It’s shitty and it hurts and it’s horrible to go through. Let’s always strive to be kind.




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