Divorce & Starting Over

Choosing Your Hard: The Hidden Grief of the One Who Leaves People love a good narrative, especially when it comes to divorce. The story usually goes like this: the person who initiates it — let's say, her — packs a bag, grabs her favorite playlist, and drives off into the sunset to "live her best life." "You must feel so free," they say, as if I tossed my emotional baggage out the window somewhere around Exit 27 and never looked back. Head's up....: I didn't. Because even the

When I met my husband-to-be, my beauty routine was non-negotiable. Mani-pedi every two weeks. Facials and eyebrow shaping once a month. Hair? Every week, without fail. Basically, I was a walking Sephora subscription. I kept that up all through the courting phase — because, of course, love makes you glow (and so does $300 worth of salon maintenance). But once we got married? Suddenly my beauty routine was “too expensive.” Waxing, however, remained a sacred ritual… until it was

Gray divorce — the term for marriages ending after 50 — is one of the fastest growing trends nobody wants to talk about openly. Until now. The Shame of Being Divorced at 50 (and Why I'm No Longer Apologizing for It) I recently listened to a segment of Oprah's podcast where women — and their children — spoke candidly about the gray divorce phenomenon (I added the link below). There were tears, laughter, and that unmistakable relief of hearing someone else say, "Yes, me too." W

Breaking up is like accidentally deleting your favourite playlist right before a road trip. You’re left with silence, confusion, and a desperate urge to hit “undo.” I’ve been there—staring at the wreckage of what once was, wondering if my heart would ever stop feeling like a deflated balloon. IT DOES eventually! And no, it doesn't happen magically. It’s messy, awkward, and sometimes feels like you are walking through an emotional mindfield. Why Emotional Healing After Breakup

When people talk about kids and divorce, they usually imagine two camps: devastated or resilient. My kids landed somewhere in between. They struggled—sometimes quietly, sometimes loudly—and yet, their strength still surfaced in ways I didn’t expect. The Struggle You Don’t Always See Kids don’t announce their grief in neat little speeches. They don’t sit you down, sitcom-style, and say, “Mom, I am grieving the collapse of our family structure and would like a workbook on emoti

“Awareness is like the sun. When it shines on things, they are transformed.” — Thich Nhat Hanh So, the kids met THE girlfriend and, let’s just say, they weren’t exactly handing out glowing reviews. Their impressions were vague. I didn’t pry—though every fiber of my being wanted to interrogate them like a detective on a crime show. But I wasn’t going to be that mother. So, I let it go… but I did get a name! Now, I’m truly over my ex. I mean that with all my chest. Our relation

After 22 years of marriage, I didn’t expect to find myself single, over 40, and emotionally supported by a 300-year-old vampire named Dimitri. But here we are. Some women ease into solitude with yoga and green smoothies. I, on the other hand, escaped into books where the men are half-wolf, fully ripped, and declare their undying love in the most unhinged, possessive ways imaginable. It’s toxic, it’s dramatic, and honestly—it’s working for me. Life in the Post-Partner Lane Bei

I saw them today—my ex in-laws—for the first time since the announcement. The first time since Mother’s Day, when the silence from their side became deafening. No more texts. No more calls. Just an empty space where family used to be. After 24 years—twenty-four years of shared meals, shared grief, shared joy—they were gone. And I don’t just mean physically. I mean emotionally. Spiritually. Entirely. I helped plan their baby’s funeral. My first nephew. He died in vitro. I orga

It started with the wallpaper. Faded, floral, and clinging to my kitchen walls like it was still 1987. I stood there with a steamer in one hand, a scraper in the other, and exactly zero knowledge of what I was doing. But I’d made a decision: I was going to remove it — all of it — probably. Somewhere between burning my fingertips on the steamer and discovering a second, equally offensive layer of wallpaper underneath, I started singing along to Unstoppable by Sia like I was au