After leaving my kid’s father, I unexpectedly stumbled into what I now understand as my self-love journey—my own “becoming,” as I’ve heard others call it. It started quietly, almost accidentally. I began journaling, hoping to capture the fragments of my life as the walls around me were crumbling. I wanted to be able to look back one day and see exactly how far I had come, even when it felt impossible in the moment.
The beginning was unimaginably hard. Harder than I ever could have prepared for. I was raw, so raw it hurt. I felt broken, lost, and trapped in a haze of self-blame for all the abuse I had endured. Every thought and memory seemed to weigh me down. Slowly, though, I began to recognize tiny shifts—moments when I was starting to break free from that dark season of my life. I remember one night lying awake, avoiding sleep because I knew that’s when the demons were the loudest, the most unavoidable.
But that night was different. When I finally let my eyes close, the demons weren’t there. Instead, a sense of peace began to settle over me. I could feel the door closing on the old chapter of my life while a new one was quietly beginning to open. In that moment, I wrote, “I turn 26 in one week. One year ago, I would have been a sobbing mess (in a good way) if I had known what the next 365 days would bring.” Little did I know, I was about to hit the lowest low I had ever experienced—one that would ultimately reshape my life and lead me toward healing, freedom, and genuine happiness.
I had no idea of the strength I was about to uncover. How resilient I truly was. How I would learn to leave, finally, in just a few short months. I remember the long nights on the couch, googling, “How to know if your marriage is over,” a search that would soon be replaced with “How to move on after divorce.” The depth of despair I hit last year completely shattered me. I can still see myself in the mirror during one of my panic attacks, screaming that something had to change, that none of this was right, that I was not okay. I remember one night begging him to drive me to the ER because I was terrified of my own thoughts. His response? “Drive yourself if it’s that bad.”
I sat outside the hospital, tears streaming, mourning the marriage I knew was over while also fearing the unknown path ahead. The intrusive thoughts were relentless. I could barely do anything. Over time, I had perfected the art of masking crippling depression with forced smiles and jokes. Only my three closest friends knew the truth, and even then, I held back, unable to admit the depth of my struggle. In that pit of despair, I realized something essential: if I truly wanted to survive, to be okay, I had to leave—not just for myself, but for my children. The marriage had become too heavy with pain and too light on anything good.
Once I finally walked away, life began to shift. I found myself again. I discovered peace in the small things: sleeping in a proper bed instead of the couch, laughing until my belly ached, doing things that brought me joy. The biggest change of all? I was no longer consumed by constant anger. I felt a calmness I hadn’t known in years. I remember the first night I turned off my phone and drifted to sleep without nightmares, without pacing the house consumed by anxiety. It was the first night I felt content, confident in myself, and in the life I was building.
Deciding, one morning, that I was worth fighting for—and that fight had to happen on my own terms, outside of my marriage—was the moment my life truly changed. And the day I finally let go of the doubts and allowed the good that was coming into my life to take precedence? That was the day my new life began.
Looking back now, I am grateful for the pain and the struggle. Without it, I wouldn’t be where I am today. I wouldn’t have found my voice, my courage, my confidence, and my self-worth. I wouldn’t have fallen in love with myself or the life ahead of me. And now, I can share with others that even in the darkest moments, there is hope. There is a way through, and the other side can bring not just survival, but joy and peace.
I walked a path I wouldn’t wish on anyone. But if you are on that same path right now, know this: you are stronger than you realize. They are wrong. You are worth more. You are worthy of happiness. And the person who sometimes has to fight the hardest for you? That’s you. But it can be a beautiful, transformative fight. One that leads to self-love, freedom, and a life you never imagined possible.
