19/05/2025
I turned 30 and my life imploded.
I thought I was happily married and about to start a family.
One year into marriage — after 12 years together — he left me.
The night before moving house.
I was blindsided.
Suddenly single, broke, and moving into a home I couldn’t afford.
While my friends were having babies, I was getting divorced and burning toast for dinner.
But slowly, I rebuilt.
One night, a Rod Stewart lookalike pulled my hair at a bar (yes, really) — and that random moment led me to Mr Joyful Being.
He wasn’t in the band. He just happened to be nearby — and he stepped in. The honesty was refreshing.
We had a whirlwind romance. Flew to Europe. Fell pregnant.
I was proud. I’d survived heartbreak and created something new.
Then, at 20 weeks, the pregnancy ended.
I was broken — not just from grief, but from how disempowering the whole process was.
And once again, I had to completely start over.
That loss also meant stepping away from the career I’d worked 10+ years for and saying no to a dream job opportunity.
As a psychologist, I couldn’t practice from an open wound. Working with kids as a child psychologist was too painful.
My next pregnancy was high-risk. I used every cent I’d saved from my divorce to get through it.
Then came COVID lockdowns.
An unsettled baby who cried so much.
All while homeschooling a stepson.
No village.
I kept going — until I couldn’t.
I crashed.
Eventually, I was diagnosed with complex PTSD.
All those disempowering experiences + early motherhood had opened the door to childhood memories I didn’t know were there.
I committed to healing.
EMDR.
Therapy.
The real work. The hard work.
And now — I’m turning 40.
I am living it, feeling it, and rising anyway
This isn’t the life I planned.
It’s the one I rebuilt through healing, evolving and owning my story.
And it’s more me than ever. 💛