So my kid just... left. Flew the coop, whatever. My only kid, 18, gone to uni in a different city, proper grown up and everything. And I'm sitting here, staring at his empty room, which is weirdly clean for the first time in, well, ever. Like, you could eat off the floor if you were so inclined, which I'm not, obviously, because that's disgusting. But it's just... empty. Quiet. And I spent all these years, my entire adult life really, being "mom." That was my whole deal. My identity. Even got the custom coffee mug from the school fair, "World's Best Mom," fading now but still there. And now it’s just me, the mug, and a suspiciously clean bedroom. Anyone else feel like they got hit by a bus, but like, a really quiet, empty bus? My mum, bless her heart, keeps calling from literally across the world, asking if I'm "enjoying my freedom" and "what exciting new hobbies" I'm picking up. I swear she thinks I'm going to take up pottery or competitive synchronized swimming. Like, ma, I'm 40, not 20. And also, she's literally hundreds of miles away, her memory’s going, and every phone call is just a fresh guilt trip about how I should be there, but also why aren't I living my best life? Make it make sense. I guess I always pictured this moment differently. More tears, probably. A dramatic collapsing onto his bed, sniffing his old t-shirt, you know, movie stuff. Instead, I just… watched him go. Waved. Said "call me." And then made a cup of tea and looked at the dust bunnies that used to live under his bed, now evicted. Like, my entire adult life was put on hold for this. I had career ambitions once, proper ones, not just "survive another Tuesday." I was going to be a hot-shot something or other. Now I just feel like a hot mess. My resume is basically a list of part-time gigs that fit around school schedules and doctor's appointments and the occasional projectile vomit incident. How do you even START trying to get a proper job, like, a *career* career, when your last proper role was before Y2K? Am I supposed to just… invent experience? Photoshop myself into a corporate boardroom? It's absurd. It's funny, actually. For years I dreamt of this. The quiet. The ability to watch an entire show without someone asking where their charger is. And now it's here, and I'm just… meh. Indifferent. Like, is this it? Is this what I sacrificed everything for? To sit in a silent house and contemplate the existential dread of a clean room? Ha! The irony, right? My mum's probably thinking I'm out skydiving or something equally wild, while I'm here having a profound spiritual crisis over a pile of unfolded laundry. I mean, at least it's *my* laundry now, I guess. No tiny socks to sort through. Small victories, eh? But seriously, what do you even *do* after this? Anyone else suddenly feel like a background extra in their own life, just waiting for the next scene to be called? Because I'm kinda lost on the plot. And the script's blank.