The Hardest Story I've Ever Told
Hi, Jen Hamilton?
My name is Sylvie, and I’ve wondered more than once if you somehow stepped through a portal into an alternate version of my life circa October 2025.
But there is one big difference between our stories: you used your voice. And for that, I want to thank you. For letting me see you, which in turn made me feel seen.
It’s given me the courage to share my story. And take my power back too.
Here goes…
There. We’re here. On the other side of that portal.
October 2025. And it’s a weird time in my life. Things are up in the air with Eclair Lips - although it’s been a record-breaking year, I haven’t sold a single lip balm to the US for over a month because of all this tariff and de minimis stuff, and the business - you know, the one that supports my family - is really starting to feel it.
But my little family? It’s good. We’ve just wrapped a leisurely summer where we worked very little, enjoyed some nice road trips and things feel as normal as they do in a house like mine.
Surprisingly, I’m not spiraling about the business stuff. But I am super focused. I have a plan, and it’s a lot of work, but I’ve decided that I’m going to find a warehouse in the US to ship my product to my customers across the border, and step by step, I’m gonna make it happen.
After all, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s figuring things out.
So much is happening this month though. I went to Dallas on a business trip. My family hosted Thanksgiving (yeah, it’s in October in Canada). But everyone seems happy.
I am happy.
Most mornings, he wakes me with a cup of coffee in hand and an invitation to watch Jimmy Kimmel on YouTube before the kids get up. We cuddle under a blanket. It makes me feel loved and understood - caffeine and a laugh get my day started on the right foot. He tells me I’m doing such a good job getting all the business stuff figured out. He’s proud of me.
We spend an epic weekend labelling thousands of lip balms for a huge shipment we’ll send to the US. You know, once I figure out which warehouse to work with. He tells me I look like such a cute little lip balm lady, my glasses on the end of my nose, applying stickers to each tube. I’m so adorable, he even takes a few pictures as he smiles at me.
I look forward to getting this whole US mess figured out. I’m looking forward to having more downtime to spend with him. He works for my company too, and earlier this year, I outsourced most of his job - shipping orders - to a warehouse in Canada. For the first time in so long, we’ll have a lot more free time to spend together.
But just days later, something is different.
I am neck deep in customs paperwork, trying to figure out how to export a big pallet of lip balms to the new US warehouse in time for holiday sales.
He’s going on a weekend-long silent retreat soon… But it’s all good. I’ll be fine on my own.
Can he extend it for a week? He has important things to think about. I agree. I know I can manage without him.
Can he extend to a month?
A month?
He’s thinking about separating.
What?!!
No, actually he knows he wants to separate. He doesn’t love me anymore. Hasn’t for months. Actually maybe years. Actually, maybe even 10 years.
He’s not in love with me anymore.
He says it over and over. To me. The girls.
The girls. The girls. What do I do? What do I do?
Sylvie. SYLVIE!! Come back! Mom mode. Go. NOW! I know, you’ve only had a 3 minute head start to try and process this, but those feelings can wait.
Hug the girls. Tell them you don’t have all the answers, but one thing you do know for sure is that their mom is damn good at figuring stuff out. Sylvie, I know you want to cry now, but you need to stay close to them.
I tell them I know it’s hard. That I’m sorry. That I don’t really know “why” either.
They have so many questions. Questions I can’t answer: Mom, does that mean we won’t all live together anymore? Mom, will we be able to keep living in our house? Mom, we don’t want to move!
His words. Their questions. They are all swirling around in my head. Is this real? This can’t be for real.
What’s happening mom? Is this real? Is this real mom?
Is this real Sylvie?
The next week is a blur. I’m heartbroken.
But I need to ship the pallet.
I try to understand. Something is off. I’m getting weird vibes from him. He talks to me like I’m… beneath him.
Hold that thought - need to prep for the school meeting.
He’s not being kind to me. Like he’s trying to make me feel like dirt.
Why do that?
Why?
I’ve been his best friend for 17 years. Stood by him through so much.
Trusted him.
Was that trust a pair of rose-colored glasses?
I gingerly take them off.
Oh, what’s this?
Pattern recognition system online…
Computing…
Computing…
That day after that concert. He kept talking about her. “She let me hold her drink”
The new clothes.
The newly shaved beard.
The Rogaine.
Have I really figured it out?
I ask.
A denial.
I ask again.
A smirk.
A fucking smirk?
Yeah, there is someone else. How did you know it was her?
No, it’s not like that. Don’t be like that Sylvie. She’s so rad.
She’s so rad.
Am I in an episode of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?
I tell him to leave. Again. And again. No. This is NOT negotiable.
He leaves. Finally. But then he’s back again. He’s forgotten his wallet. That is the only thing he does that night that feels familiar.
Who was that man?
Who was that man?
WHO WAS THAT MAN!
My best friend would have never done this to me.
But it’s not what I think. IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK SYLVIE!
But Sylvie is damned good at figuring things out.
And she’s immune to the gaslighting now.
Hmmm… What are these receipts in the recycle bin?
Yes. It is exactly what she thinks. Boundaries crossed by everyone involved. It was not respectful. Harm was done.
As the weeks go by, one thing is clear: I do not know this man.
Yet he is my children’s father.
He frightens me.
But he is my children’s father.
How do I navigate that? How is this real?
Sylvie, put those feelings away. It’s time for mom-mode. Come on, happy face. There we go!
Right. Right! I can’t let them see me scared. Hey girls! Do you want to put up the Christmas tree this weekend?
Change the locks. Install security cameras. It’s just us girls now, Mom just wants to keep us safe. There’s nothing to worry about.
A Ring cam alert. Sound the alarm. Catch a bird flip in 4k.
Escalation. Manipulation. How can he think this is ok?
How is this possible? 17 years. I don’t know what to say.
Uhm, excuse me… Sylvie? Sylllllvie!
Oh crap! The business. You seriously want me to plan a Black Friday thing? Now? Ok, ok, fine.
The weeks keep going by.
The things keep getting done.
The happy face keeps showing up.
While my fears wait for the quiet of darkness.
Who is this man?
Sylvie. Take a breath and think.
You do know him.
Better than anyone else.
He even has a name: the grey lizard.
Yes but that was just a part of him. We all have scary parts don’t we?
Well Sylvie, the sum of the parts is what he’s made up of. You may have been able to love them all, even that grey lizard, but it’s clear that he’s the one who’s taken the wheel now.
But I can remember the good parts so vividly. Believed in them for 17 years. I can even see them in my own children. They had to be real! Have they forgotten how to drive?
I don’t know Sylvie. I don’t know.
But what I do know is that you are figuring this out.
And all the while, your children are watching.
And he is watching them, too.
Will he see all the goodness inside those girls and remember that some surely came from him?
I don’t know Sylvie. But that sounds less like a question and more like a wish. And I wish it for your girls too.
But Sylvie, do you see that? The huge pine tree with the big hole? It’s our portal back to reality.
Good because I don’t know that I can stay here much longer. Having a portal to the past sounds like fun in theory, but it’s really no place to live.
Whoosh. Back in 2026.
I feel like I left a huge weight back there.
I feel so… light.
Comme si je me sens éclairée.
Thank you for letting me share the first part of my story with you. There is more to come, I don’t want to give any spoilers, but I promise that it gets a lot better after this one.
