Sayanara, arigatō,

The moment has come to tell you goodbye. Not in anger, nor in regret, but with a full, lucid gratitude, and a tenderness that will not fade away.

You have been, for a long time, the silent center of my life. The first apartment, invisible but essential, where my three children started their story. Three times, you rendered possible what exceeds words. You carried, protected, sheltered. You were that intimate place where everything begins, where life takes shape even before having a face. I remember this quiet certainty: they were there, in your home, rocked by me.

Then something shifted. Time, illness. Endometriosis, adenomyosis. Not all at once, but slowly, like a presence that settles in and takes up too much room. What was a refuge became a struggle. What was strength became fatigue. You did not change intention, but you became a place of pain that I could no longer inhabit without losing myself in it.

So today, I choose to let you go.

It is not an abandonment. It is a passage. I am not giving up on myself; on the contrary, I am drawing closer to myself. I am setting down what weighed too heavily so that I can continue to move forward. Thank you for everything you have allowed. For the life you carried, for the beginnings you made possible. None of that disappears. Everything remains, in another way.

Now, I am repairing myself. I am gathering myself. I am preparing to write what comes next, without this pain that has accompanied me for so long, but with everything we have been through.

This letter was a step for me, but perhaps you have one to write too? If you wish to share your own letter, whether anonymous or signed, please use the form on the Contact page. I would be delighted to offer them a place in the 'Your Letters' section.