After I moved out of a very abusive relationship, I realized I didn't know who I was. I stood in a shitbox apartment with thin walls and small rooms, and I thought of everything I used to be and what I was now.

I was nothing. I was hollow. I was worn down and tired out, and I felt ugly and undesirable. Toss in being fully responsible for a teen and a toddler, and I felt ... well, like a mom. Not a person. Not Julie.

Who was Julie? For almost 10 years, my partner told me what I was stupid, slow, naïve, useless, unthinking, and uncaring. I'd been told those things long enough that I almost believed them. I had no hobbies and no friends. Those weren't permitted. I had no support system. I barely had a job, too. Earning money was a no-no.

But now I was free. The opportunities of relearning who I was were amazing. I could do anything! No one would complain or criticize or tell me that I wasn't allowed. No one controlled my future but me.

So I didn't wallow and cry. I didn't feel miserable. I felt very unsure at times, like a child learning to walk, and I felt a little scared at having to take my own decisions - but take them I could. I took up old activities I used to enjoy, like horseback riding, knitting and doing laps at the local skating arena. I learned new hobbies, like playing guitar. I changed jobs and became a freelance writer. I bought books to read and I slowly — very slowly — saved up money to buy pieces of furniture that fit my preferred décor.

It still strikes me how lucky I was to not have to live up to anyone's expectations. I could start over, completely and freely. Life was a buffet, and I could taste whatever I wanted. I could choose my preferences and fill up my empty plate. It's a little ironic that sometimes, the hardest events to go through are the ones that bring the best opportunities.