A Day To Remember

I’ve come to the end of a chapter, or maybe it’s an entire book.

I write this in deep honor of a chapter in my life that spanned years, identities, and lifetimes within a lifetime. A sacred chapter. One filled with love, complexity, confusion, growth, and deep transformation. One that shaped me and ultimately ushered me into the woman I am unfolding into now. Today doesn’t just mark an ending. It marks a passage. A turning of the page. The quiet, courageous opening of something entirely new.

Today my divorce is final.

It is the end of a marriage, yes… but also the quiet ending of a version of myself who lived inside that container. A version of me that loved, tried, survived, doubted, and shaped herself in order to belong. This hasn’t just been about the dissolution of a relationship, it’s been a sacred death of identity. A necessary unraveling. The undoing of everything I thought I was, and everything I tried to be. And in that unraveling, I found myself sitting in the rubble, staring at what was left, knowing I had a choice: sit in it forever, or begin to rebuild.

There has been a lot of sitting. A lot of sifting through the remains… through the stories I believed, the roles I played, the masks I wore, the beliefs I unconsciously inherited. I examined every brick that had built the foundation of my life over the last forty years and began asking the deeper questions: What still belongs to me? What was never mine to begin with? What can no longer come with me as I step into the next evolution of my soul? 

This hasn’t been a surface-level reflection… it has been a full excavation. I’ve dug into the deepest layers of my psyche, peeling back all that I could access, the beliefs, the wounds, the patterns that shaped my perception of reality. I’ve faced pain that had quietly lodged itself in the corners of my heart for years, maybe decades or quite possibly lifetimes. I’ve looked fear in the eye. I’ve met parts of myself I didn’t even know were there.

It hasn’t been easy. I still feel fragments of shrapnel lodged in my chest. I still walk through the hollowed-out spaces of what used to be, brushing past memories and emotions like ghosts. But something now has shifted. The ground beneath me has softened. And amidst the wreckage, something new is stirring… tiny green shoots breaking through the soil. A quiet, steady foundation taking solid form. Not built from who I thought I was supposed to be, but from who I truly AM.

With every ending, I now understand, comes another great beginning. And this ending… this divorce, this deconstruction of self… didn’t happen to me. I was the one who lit the match. Not from recklessness or rage, but from a deeper call toward truth. Because love cannot thrive in misalignment… not just misalignment of relationship, but of the soul. Living in my authentic truth has become the most radical act of love I’ve ever chosen.

From that destruction, something beautiful has emerged. Not polished or perfect, but real. Rooted. The kind of beauty that can only grow in the soil of radical self-acceptance. I’ve learned to hold every part of myself… the ones I celebrate and the ones I do my best to hide… with tenderness, compassion, and reverence. Each part essential. Each part belonging. This is no longer just an idea. It’s a somatic knowing. It lives in my body now. I feel it in my bones: life is always conspiring for me, even when my mind gathers evidence that says otherwise. Even in the most difficult moments, I’ve realized, I am still okay. Pain is not a punishment. It is part of the human experience. It doesn’t mean something is wrong. It’s simply a voice letting me know I’m alive.

I’ve discovered a sense of inner safety that no one can take from me. The essence of who I am cannot be destroyed. Identities may fall. Egos may dissolve. Roles may fade. But the light of love that I AM… that essence… remains untouched. Sometimes that light dims. Sometimes it feels like it disappears altogether. But even then, I know now… I am still okay.

Through it all, what has grounded me most is the treasure of motherhood. In the middle of this great unraveling, I’ve felt the sacred weight and wonder of being a mother more deeply than ever before. I’ve asked myself how this will shape my boys… their sense of love, their understanding of family, their experience of security. I’ve cried over the pain I know they feel, the confusion they carry. And yet, I’ve also come to trust, at the deepest level, that this too, is part of their soul path. That life is conspiring for them just as it is for me. And as long as I keep showing up, loving them fiercely, walking beside them honestly, and holding their hands through the unknown, they will be okay.

I don’t try to take away their pain. I know now that pain isn’t something to erase. It’s something to honor. To witness. To move through. I am their landing pad when the weight is too heavy. I do my best to show them, through presence, that even in heartbreak, we are still whole. That pain does not define us. That we are walking this path together. And we are never alone.

Their pain is not lost on me. And I don’t pretend that everything is okay. But I also know this doesn’t have to be a lifelong burden for them to carry. The why of it all belongs to me. It’s not their job to make sense of it. My role is not to explain it away or soften the edges… it’s to embody the truth. To be a lighthouse. To show them what it means to move through pain with love, to walk through fire with grace (though sometimes not graceful!). 

Divorce wasn’t a chapter I ever imagined for myself. But it’s part of my story now. And I carry it without shame. Because through it, I have learned more about myself, about relationship, about surrender, trust, and God than I ever imagined possible. And in all honesty, what else are we here to do?

I’ve learned how we masterfully hide from ourselves. That our fears will run our lives until we turn and face them. I’ve come to understand that walking in alignment is often a quiet, humble path… while misalignment stomps loudly, scattering chaos in its wake. And that chaos always circles back stronger until we listen. I’ve learned the difference between trust and discernment. Trust means surrendering to something larger than myself. Discernment is where wisdom meets truth. It’s how I choose what serves my highest good.

And maybe, just maybe, not everything needs justification. Maybe there doesn’t always have to be a neat explanation or a reason that satisfies others. When we’re led by the heart, logic often takes a back seat. And that’s the challenge… and the beauty. Because when the heart truly comes online and you trust it, unwaveringly, the “why” may not reveal itself right away. Everything around you might scream, “This is wrong.” But that inner pull says, “Keep going.” And that my friends… that is living. That is truth in motion. Through this journey, I’ve healed and revealed more in the last three years than in this entire lifetime. And I know there’s more to come. There is deep beauty in the unraveling, even when the mind can’t understand it. There’s power in letting life reveal itself as I surrender more and more to the voice of my heart… instead of trying to explain myself to those who may never understand. I’ve discovered that when I am strong in my own heart, justification becomes a moot point.

I continue to loosen my grip on control. I’m learning to hand things over… to God, to Grace, to the same intelligence that shapes mountains and seasons and souls. I’ve released the belief that I am responsible for other people’s happiness. I am here to be love, not to manage the emotions of others. I can offer a hand, a heart, a safe place of healing, possibly a wise word, but the only personal healing I’m responsible for is my own.

I’ve come to see that compassion is a superpower. That contentment is gold. I’ve felt the pain of stepping away from my dharma, trying to fill voids that were never mine to carry. And I’m now finding my way home. My life has been made of millions of tiny miracles… some I welcomed, some I resisted. But all of them are sacred. Even the ones I held onto far past their expiration date. Especially those ones.

Now, I’m learning to let go evermore. To surrender to the sacred wildness of this human experience. To stop gripping and start trusting. It doesn’t mean I’m always at peace. But when I fall into the mind’s stories, I return to contentment more quickly. Because I know now, I am not broken. I am not lost. I am simply remembering who I am.

So today, I walk forward into this new chapter, this new book… not as someone seeking perfection, but as someone rebirthing herself into coherence. Coherence between what I think, what I feel, and how I choose to live. Each step is an embodiment of what I’ve remembered, of what I’ve uncovered… not a performance of healing, but a lived, felt truth. I no longer chase a finish line. I know now there is no final arrival, no perfect version waiting at the end. Perfection isn’t something we reach. It lives in the mystery. It lives in how we meet life as it comes… in the uncertainty, the grief, the joy, the mess, and the beauty. I’m learning to be okay with all of it. Especially the parts that don’t feel good. Because I trust that even those moments belong. I trust that every shadow holds a seed. And I trust that as long as I continue to show up in truth… heart, mind, and action aligned… life will unfold just as it’s meant to. Not always clean. Not always easy. But always sacred. Always mine to experience.

With love and gratitude to all who walk a path led by the heart,