THEY say that divorce is one of the most stressful situations one can go through. And it's even tougher on the kids.
But here we all are in Northern Ireland, five days into our divorce from the EU, swinging wildly between being confused, angry, tearful and vowing to hook up with the gang in Dublin instead.
It's fair to say everyone was completely blindsided by the leave vote. When the news broke on Friday morning during the school rush hour the husband and I stood slackjawed at the TV, then debated loudly what this would possibly mean for us.
When we open our living room curtains we can see the Hills of Donegal up close, we live not even half a mile from the border.
I sometimes work in Donegal. I am old enough to remember sticky summer days stuck in the back of a car hotter than the sun at the border checkpoints, wishing the heavily armed British soldiers would hurry up and do their document checks so that we could get to the beach and be furnished with an ice cream bigger than our heads.
We drive that road ourselves with the kids to the same ice cream shop and the same beach. Only the border is soft now, you'd hardly even notice it.
Yes, you have to use different money and the signs are in Irish, but apart from that the grass is as green on both sides and the air just the same.
There are no checkpoints. No London accents asking were you are going or wanting to look in the boot of your car.
The very thought of any type of barrier – no matter what form that might take – to the freedom of passing freely into Donegal, my mother's homeland and the home of most of my family, irks me wildly.
My kids were watching the news unfold on the television, listening to the worried tones of the presenters, looking at me and their daddy looking anxious.
By the time they left for school they probably understood it as much as most viewers – as in, not at all – so were worried that we were hiding some manner of hostile alien invasion from them.
They went to school and some of the teachers were talking in worried tones about what this could mean for them also. No amount of telling them everything was fine sufficed.
Because I don't know if it will be fine. I have serious concerns that the move will, maybe not today or tomorrow but soon, inflict more economic misery for us here in this already extremely vulnerable part of the world.
As of Friday morning our little part of the world is more divided, more closed off and a Hell of a lot smaller, as well as decidedly poorer.
It seemed to me that the vote for leave was, not all but largely a xenophobic one, fuelled by hate-filled propaganda campaigns. So as well as everything else, we are also a lot less likeable part of the world.
The volatility caused by the shock Leave win will impact on my family and yours now. Never mind that EU funding being withdrawn, there are fears the uncertainty will push us into another recession. And we all know how much fun that was last time around.
My older children will be in their teens by the time the real consequences of this will be felt. I'd imagine it will impact on them greatly.
Economists warn that companies may be put off investing in the non-EU UK, not just due to tariffs but differing safety certifications and things businesses would feel just aren't worth the hassle.
So, less jobs and investment it is then, because we have an abundance of both here in the north.
European funding rebuilt Northern Ireland and provided a crutch for us here to help us back to health after 30 years of Troubles.
EU funding helped communities come together, created community jobs, funded projects that helped build lasting relations and regenerated large parts of Derry in particular. I doubt very much the UK would have the spare cash to throw at any of that.
My children will not be able to enjoy free movement among EU countries. As citizens of one EU country we had the unfettered right to live and work anywhere in the UK. Not any more.
I was told by a few Leavers in the know at the weekend that everything "will be grand". I sincerely hope so.
But what I do know is that these are changing times, and uncertain ones for families all over Northern Ireland.
But there's not really anything we can do, the stars aligned on Thursday and the signs presented themselves – a surprised and delighted Farage celebrating surrounded by Union Jack-waving men and Donald Trump arriving in Scotland for the weekend.
The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse will be next followed by locusts and plagues.
