Although this past year has been incredibly challenging, the last five years of my life have been a period of profound growth. On social media, we often highlight the good parts of life, and over time I’ve become more intentional about protecting my privacy. Still, I want to share that heartbreak and grief have shaped me deeply over the past few years. Grief shows up in many unexpected forms.

For me, divorce in my thirties was not something I ever anticipated. It also wasn’t the result of a lack of love. At 26 my husband was diagnosed with bipolar-1 disorder. For those who know what that experience is like, and to those who have been the care-givers to someone who is dealing with this, I see you. This diagnosis did not come easy for my ex-partner, nor will I ever full understand what he went through. What I can share, is my experience. Watching the person you love regress from a illness that is out of their control, is absolutely heartbreaking. It shattered me in more ways than I can ever truly express. Truthfully, I was not prepared with how to deal with it, and the community resources at the time of diagnosis, just did not exists. I was not perfect in our marriage either, but I know we respect each other on a level that only we can understand. Truthfully, I will always love the person I was once married to. But for me to grow, to heal, and to survive, I had to leave the marriage and the person I believed I would spend my entire life with.

Marriage and divorce grief isn’t talked about enough. The sadness and despair that followed me every where I went, was mind-altering and physically consuming. I lost myself for a while. I developed unhealthy habits that led to significant changes in my body and my sense of self. I lost confidence in who I was and in my ability to recognize my own worth within relationships.

(Yes, service providers experience these things too. Even when we have the education to work through it)

There were days when simply getting out of bed, going to work, and functioning felt impossible. I questioned my decision often, because I never stopped loving the person I left behind. If anything, my love for my ex-husband has grown through our separation. During the marriage, I resented my partner for circumstances neither of us could control, and it followed with immense pain and anxiety. Without going into detail, I left because I knew that if I stayed, I would not have survived—mentally, emotionally, or spiritually.

Leaving my husband marked the first time in my life that I truly chose myself. My partner and I met when we were 18 and we were together for 11 beautiful years. For the first time, I was forced to turn my attention inward—toward my inner child and my healing journey. I had a summer filled with joy and freedom that healed me in ways I can’t fully explain. After that, I committed to doing the deeper work alongside my therapist.

Nearly three years later, I still grieve my marriage on difficult days. But I am incredibly proud of the person I am becoming. I am no longer afraid to do things on my own. I am no longer afraid to put my needs first when I have too. I’m no longer afraid of letting myself down occasionally—because doing so does not make me a bad person. I am no longer afraid to communicate how I feel or to state how I deserve to be treated. I am no longer afraid to ask for more from a partner. I am no longer afraid to exist in public alone, running errands with nothing but my own thoughts.

As someone who lives with ADHD and anxiety, my mind is often loud and crowded. Over time, I’ve learned how to quiet it when I need to, how to process my emotions without resulting in a panic attack.

 In these three years, I graduated from social work school, began working in the nonprofit sector, applied to my master’s program, and started building my therapy practice. And now, here we are—it’s finally here.

I know what it feels like to live without access to proper support, education, and mental health resources. Today, I advocate for those very things. I’ve built a practice rooted in ongoing education, self-awareness, and practical skills—one that allows me to give back to my community in the ways I wish someone had supported me when I was struggling. I now offer support groups that reflect this mission, and they are just as healing for me as they are meaningful for my clients.

I share these reflections because we don’t always get the chance to speak this honestly or deeply within our communities. This blog began as a space for self-reflection, but also as a place to share lived experiences and education with those I serve. I don’t expect everyone to read these posts, but if someone does come across them, I hope they find moments of shared experience, humility, and connection. The world needs more compassion, empathy, and empowerment.

In three years, I achieved some of my biggest dreams and goals—many of them during my darkest moments. But I did it, I did it for myself and for my future.

You can, too. I believe in you. If you’re reading this today, know that you are not alone in your sadness, your grief, or your bereavement. Even therapists have hard days. Even when we encourage others to take things one day at a time, there are moments when words of affirmation aren’t enough.

My hope is to teach skills and habits that last a lifetime. Know that I have done this work myself—and when I avoided it, I saw first hand what it can lead too. Healing takes time. It doesn’t always happen in a month, two months, or even a year. Sometimes, it takes three.