From Full-Time Mom to Full-On Survivor:

I didn’t think I’d be starting over at 54. Not after many years of giving everything I had to my family. Not after spending my days homeschooling, cooking, cleaning, planning, supporting, loving—believing with my whole heart that this was the best thing I could do for my family. I was proud to be a full-time mom. I believed in it. I believed that being there for every milestone, every hard day, every question about life and the world—that was what made a difference.

And I still believe that.

But now, I find myself standing in a place I never imagined: in the middle of a divorce, with no income of my own, trying to rebuild a life from scratch—and quickly, because time doesn't stand still.

When the divorce came, it didn’t shock me. But it shook me. I thought I was ready, but the truth is—no one is ever truly ready for their whole life to change in an instant.

It wasn’t sudden. But it came sooner than I expected. He wasn’t just walking away from me—he’d been slowly, intentionally killing what little love remained between us. It was a deliberate unraveling, bit by bit, and I kept trying to hold it together. I fought for my marriage. I fought with everything I had. But there are some things that you can’t fight for forever.

It’s not just heartbreaking—it’s disorienting. The life I poured myself into with love and faithfulness is gone, and I’m left trying to figure out how to go on from here.

When you’re standing at a crossroads—when you’re forced to decide what’s better for your children, what kind of example you're setting, what kind of foundation your marriage is really laying for their future—it breaks something inside you. Because no matter what, it’s going to hurt them. But the question you keep asking yourself is: what will hurt them more? Staying in something broken, or showing them that marriage is not that?

The Man I Thought I Knew - The most painful part of all this is realizing the truth about my husband—the man I once thought was my everything. He’s been using the financial aspect of our divorce to punish me, to prove that I’m nothing without him. The man I trusted has been deliberately working in the shadows to undermine me, even going so far as to chip away at my authority with our children.

It’s a betrayal that cuts deep, but strangely, being able to see this clearly has given me strength. The more I see what he’s been doing, the more I realize that I’m not powerless. I can prepare myself for what’s coming, and that clarity is helping me stand tall, even in the face of it all.

Weathering the Storm Right now - I’m in the thick of it. The storm isn’t waiting for me to be ready. There’s no pause button. I’m still homeschooling my son, still trying to navigate his teenage years, and still working to hold it all together while everything else is falling apart. Some days, it feels like too much. I look around and wonder how I’m going to make it through this day, this week, let alone what lies ahead.

What adds to the challenge is trying to teach my son what it means to be a good man, while he’s observing something very different in his father. That contrast is heartbreaking. I want to model integrity, kindness, and strength for him—but it’s hard when the example he’s seeing is so far from what I believe a man should be.

And then there’s my daughter. She’s getting married this year, and while I’m so proud of her, there’s a deep sadness I can’t shake. It’s not that my heart is broken—it’s the realization that, because I’ve been financially dependent, I no longer have the ability to contribute to her wedding. That’s a loss I wasn’t prepared for.

I want so badly to show her that I believe in marriage, that I support her fully. But I also don’t want to instill in her any fear or doubt. She deserves to enter this next chapter with confidence, and I don’t want my own situation to cloud her joy. That’s been a hard pill to swallow.

But I do show up. I do what needs to be done. I keep moving forward because, at the end of the day, I can’t afford to stay stuck.

The Ones Who Stay - Divorce has a way of sorting people. Friends, family—it’s surprising who sticks around and who fades away. But the ones who stayed? They’re the lifeline I didn’t know I needed. My family—my children, my siblings, my parents—have been the ones to hold me up when I couldn’t find the strength on my own. They haven’t tried to fix me or offer empty comfort. They’ve simply shown up, and that’s made all the difference.

And maybe that’s the silver lining in all this. Even when life feels like it’s falling apart, I’ve learned that the people who really matter will always be there. And the ones who aren’t? I don’t need them anymore.

Walking into the Unknown - I won’t sugarcoat it: the fear is real. There’s a lot of uncertainty—financial, emotional, practical. I haven’t earned an income in years. I don’t have a steady paycheck, no safety net beyond my own determination to figure things out. The future can feel overwhelming. How will I provide for my kids? How will I rebuild? How do I navigate this new life I never expected?

But here’s what I’m learning: I don’t need to have all the answers. I just need to keep moving forward. I’ve faced hard things before, and I’ll face this too. I’m not fragile. I’m not broken. The unknown isn’t the end—it’s the space where something new can grow.

Finding My Footing - This transition is anything but easy. There are days when it feels like everything is just too much—homeschooling, emotional stress, legal hurdles, financial pressure. But then there are small moments—quiet victories—that remind me I’m still here, still standing.

Every time I show up for my kids, for myself, for this next chapter, I’m building something new. It might not be the life I planned, but it’s one I’m shaping, step by step. One that’s rooted in resilience and honesty.

To Anyone Going Through - It If you’re reading this and you’re in the thick of your own storm, know this: you’re not alone. You don’t have to be fearless. You don’t have to have a perfect plan. Just take one step. Then another.

We don’t have to have it all figured out to begin again. And we can build something meaningful from here—something steady, something real. Something ours.