Two years ago I got divorced.

It was the worst day of my life.

I spent that day and the days following in a constant state of giant wracking sobs.

I knew the only way I was going to heal and move on was to be away from my ex-husband, my family, and the small town I lived in.

Everyone thought I had lost my mind. They just didn’t understand why I would move SO far away.

But I knew if I didn’t, that I would be tempted to try again before it was healthy to try again.

I needed to be ‘not married’. I needed to be alone. I needed to be me. Just me.

And so I moved to the South – 16 hours away from the only safety and security I’d ever known.

The first year was brutal.

Grief, regret, fear, loneliness, and lasting love for the man I had just divorced.

I prayed for answers, and I cried on friend’s shoulders, but I hung on and lived.

And now just over two years later, I am emerging from the darkness. I think I’m going to be ok.

I survived.

I found life again.

And most importantly, I found me.