I met the girlfriend. Mystery solved. Confidence restored…partially

“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 relationship was dead and buried at least ten years before we actually said the words “It’s over.” I was just curious—borderline obsessed—to see who he was dating. So, I called the one person who could have found Osama Bin Laden within a week of 9/11:

Auntie Joan

• 73 years old

• Walks with a cane

• Certified badass with a better love life than most 40-year-olds I know

Within 30 minutes, Auntie Joan came through like a private investigator on steroids. She found the girlfriend’s name, occupation, university, and even a few pictures. I looked over all the pictures she sent and forwarded them to the council aka the tribe aka my girls.

As any good friend who’s always ready to fix your crown would do, they told me Mallory had nothing on me. We giggled like schoolgirls, gossiped like we didn’t have careers, kids, and bills to pay. Even with all that, I wasn’t sure how to feel.

Until that hot August day. My bestie invited me over for her husband’s birthday party. It was also my ex’s weekend with the kids. He asked if I’d be home when he picked them up. He wanted me to meet his girlfriend — Mallory.

I was nervous and excited at the same time. Is that even possible?

Anyway, he pulled up to the house and she stepped out of his car. Although I’d seen her pictures on social media, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.

We live in the age of filters. Apparently, more than one can be used on a single picture. Damn…

Her beauty wasn’t in the eye of the beholder so much as in the eye of the optimist.

She had the kind of shine on her hair that didn’t come from a hair mask or moisturizer.

Her teeth marched to their own beat, none quite in formation. But she was very nice. In another context, we could have been friends.

God forgive me. This post is really not about her.

Imagine being told you weren’t good enough, pretty enough, sexy enough to be desired. It was my fault if he stepped out of the marriage. If only I was enough…

After we separated, his words played in my head like an old tune — only now the only voice I heard was my own.

As I sat with my bestie later that day, I told her about meeting Mallory.

It was never about me.

It was about him — his own mess, his broken compass, his story that had nothing to do with my worth.

And yet, meeting Mallory was the moment the sun finally shone on me.

I realized I had spent years trying to prove I was “enough” by someone else’s broken standards. But the truth was, I was enough — exactly as I am.

That day, I stopped measuring myself against anyone else’s definition of beauty, love, or worth.

I reclaimed my story, my confidence, and my joy.

Mallory was just a passing character in my second act — but I am the star of this show.

Because awareness doesn’t just transform things — it transforms us.

And finally, I see myself in the light I always deserved to shine in.