Thoughts of Junie

By Junie| Thoughts of Junie

There’s a kind of silence that follows survival —
Not the peaceful kind. The heavy kind.
The kind that creeps into your bones when rent is due and the fridge is empty and your card declines at checkout.

This is the part no one talks about after you leave.

Everyone says they’re proud of you for walking away.
For choosing yourself.
For starting over.
But no one tells you how much it costs — emotionally, mentally, literally.

Since the breakup, it’s just me now.
Junie, alone. No backup plan. No shared bills. No second income.
Just me — and the weight of trying to stay afloat in a world that seems designed to drown you the second you try to swim on your own.

And I hate to say it, but sometimes I miss the convenience of dual-income survival.
I don’t miss him.
I don’t miss the emotional manipulation, the quiet cruelty, the feeling of always shrinking myself.
But I miss being able to breathe a little easier at the end of the month.

Groceries are a math problem now.
Getting sick is a crisis.
And joy — the kind that comes with spontaneous coffee runs or a new dress just because — that feels like a luxury for someone else.

I work hard. I budget harder. I stretch and scrape and sacrifice.
But some days, I still come up short.
And I still have to wake up the next day and try again, because no one else is going to catch me if I fall.
That’s what it means to provide for yourself after abuse — you don’t just heal emotionally.
You rebuild everything.
Your identity. Your routines. Your bank account.

There’s a quiet bravery in that.
In keeping the lights on when no one notices.
In eating noodles again without complaining.
In working two jobs just to say, “I made it this month.”

This isn’t the life I imagined.
But it’s the life I’m building — from scratch, with love and resilience and the kind of strength that doesn’t always look strong.

So if you’re here too — if you’re staring at bills with shaky hands or crying in your car before clocking into work —
Please know I see you. I am you.

You are not failing.
You are surviving.
You are choosing you, every single day.

And that’s something no amount of money can measure.

With love,
Junie