On Lifting and Lattes and How They Quite Literally Saved My Life After Divorce

Deciding to separate from my husband of nearly 14 years, was the most assured and confident decision I ever made in my life. Until it wasn’t. Now hear me out…. Although I knew the relationship had irreparably run its course, I never anticipated the fallout of guilt, grief and loss that I would suffer in the months to follow.

The Marriage

Things had been rocky from the start, always ending in quick-fire, utterly exhaustive emotional rounds. I was merely a shell of who I’d imagined myself being when I embarked on this journey almost two decades earlier. Yes, we had built a seemingly beautiful life; he was building his career as a physical therapist and I was fortunate to be a stay at home mom to our two kiddos. One boy and one girl. Perfect, right? We went to church on the weekends, took (and documented for social media) fun family road trips, had a great circle of friends, sent our kids to charter schools, lived in an affluent community just outside of Phoenix, and the list goes on.

But inside, something was broken. And it always had been. Throughout the marriage, we talked to countless counselors and pastors, read all the books, made major life changes like having babies, moving states, changing jobs; we had conversation after conversation and of course, argument after argument, hoping that trying something or going somewhere, would finally fix it. But it never did. The cycle continued, and although I’d tried to separate a few times before, the timing or the finances or whatever it was at the time, were never conducive.

The Fallout

But in the spring of 2016, they finally were. We had moved back to Phoenix from Colorado just a year prior, hoping that a new job and being around family would solve some of our issues. Well, it didn’t. And it actually introduced new issues. So there came a day, finally, where after yet another argument that nearly escalated to becoming physical, I held my resolve. He had left and there I stood, frozen in my bathroom, staring at the floor for what felt like an eternity, trying to muster the courage to move my feet and go out to the living room and say what I needed to say. But I was paralyzed. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. The words were literally stuck in my throat. But I wouldn’t hold it in any longer. So I just stood there, knowing it would all come out eventually.

After probably 30 minutes, he came back into the bedroom, and saw me standing there. And then I said it: “I can’t do this anymore. I want to separate. And I mean it this time.” He fell to his knees at our bedside. He said please don’t do this. What about the kids…

I don’t remember the rest of that conversation really. All I know is that we decided to hold it together through the next day, which was our son’s birthday. But later that weekend, he moved out.

We spent the next year, still trying to “fix” it. Counselors, church, empty promises, exhausting conversations, forced family time together… but I was pretty much checked out by then. And I felt a sense of freedom and confidence I had never felt before. I was so clear on who I wanted to be; who I could be, on my own. I hired a life coach. I got licensed as an insurance agent. I dove deep into parenting and being intentional with my kids. I had even moved into my own apartment. It was me and my babies and I was the happiest I had been in a long time. The weight of the relationship and the toxic interactions only fell on me every few days instead of every day. And it was such a relief. I knew I had made the right choice, which one disastrous (and final) counseling session confirmed for me. I filed for divorce the next day.

Even as the divorce proceeded and we went through mediation, it was difficult (and very eye opening), but I was still more than confident in my decision. I saw more clearly each day what I was walking away from, and I was glad.

Falling Further 

But then two things happened. First, I allowed someone I didn’t know very well to speak into my life, and she painted the picture for me to see and feel a deep sense of shame and guilt over what I had “done” to my family. That I had committed a great sin and gone against God’s will. How could I? And now more importantly, how could I fix it?

I was already beginning to feel vulnerable as summer break was approaching, and this would be my first summer not staying home with my kids full time. Half the time they would spend with their dad and his family. I’d have to go to work. There would be no family vacations. No holidays together. And on top of that, I had no family in town. I had also lost a lot of my friends over the course of the last year, because divorce is hard for everyone to navigate. I felt an intense pain of loneliness and loss that I hadn’t experienced yet.

So what did I do? I gave in to the guilt and the shame and the loss, and tried to fix my marriage. I even went so far as filing a dismissal of my divorce with the court. Which they later granted, but only after the second thing happened.

As I approached my soon-to-be ex-husband about a reconciliation, I noticed he’d had a sudden change of heart. It was interesting, because all along, he swore he never wanted any of this. But it didn’t take long for me to discover he was, and had been, in a relationship with one of my friends. And I’m not gonna lie, that stung.

So now I had a real mess on my hands. I was trying to fix a marriage that clearly, neither of us really wanted to be in. I had messed up the process with the court and the progress we had made in mediation. And now I was suffering through the betrayal of a friend and the images of him and her together.

I was so mad at myself too. Why was this happening? What did I just do? Why am I so weak? Why hadn’t I just stuck to what my gut had been telling me all along? We were almost to the end and I could have moved on so easily. But I had to second guess and listen to everyone else’s opinion, like I always do. What was supposed to be a summer of freedom and fun and rebuilding and continued self-discovery, turned into the worst summer of my life.

Darkness Comes

I fell into a dark pit of anxiety and depression. I’d experienced both before, but never like this. Some days, I didn’t want to live anymore. The weight of it all, how it turned out with him and her and the courts and omg how am I going to support myself and I have no family here to help, and it just went on and on. I couldn’t control my thoughts. I slept only a few hours a night, and that was only if I had Andy Stanley church sermons blaring in my ears. The anxiety over my situation was crippling. My mom would call me every morning to make sure I was still there. It would be 9:00 or 10:00 am, and I would still be in bed. She’d ask what the kids were doing. I’d say I don’t know but I’m sure they’re fine… I think I heard them get their breakfast. I’d pull myself out of bed to go check. They were fine. But I wasn’t. 

At the time, I was working for friends, doing some light bookkeeping. I made my own schedule, so I could pretty much go work whenever I felt like getting in some hours. But those days, I never felt like it. Having no accountability to be anywhere only contributed to my depression.

I knew I at least needed to be with my family, so I would scoop the kids up and take them to Colorado. We’d stay as long as possible, and it was a good escape, but I knew I always had to come home and face my life, alone, in Phoenix. Every time I had to leave Colorado, it was excruciating. I looked into what it would take to get full custody and move me and the kids back there but found out that wouldn’t be an option without their dad’s consent. And I knew I’d never get that. I even contemplated just letting the kids live with their dad full time so I could move back home by myself. But deep down I knew that wouldn’t solve anything, and it would only hurt my babies. I couldn’t abandon them like that. They needed their momma.

As much as I enjoyed running off to Colorado, (which truly was a gift in hindsight- the time we got to spend together, we still miss it and talk about to this day!) I knew I had to get it together back at home.

Most days I was still ending up a pile on the floor, or unable to get out of bed, still assaulted with my own tormenting thoughts and bouts of crying; the anxiety, the pain in my stomach and chest nearly unbearable. I could barely eat either. At 6 feet tall, my already slender frame had withered to nothing. I think I weighed 120 pounds at my lowest. I have pictures. It’s still hard for me to look at them. But like they say, even after the darkest night, comes the light of day. And my day was coming.

Daybreak

One afternoon, I got a postcard in the mail from a nearby gym. It was their end of summer promo they were offering to new members. Health and fitness were an important part of my life, but the last several months, I could barely get through my day, let alone do anything extra. I remember, it was a Sunday, my kids were gone at their dads, so I picked myself up off the floor (literally) took my postcard, and made it to the gym 1o minutes before their membership desk closed. I signed up on the spot, went and got on a treadmill, and ran my little heart out. I ran and ran and ran until I couldn’t run anymore. As the sweat poured out of me, so did the anger, anxiety, frustration, pain, hurt, loss, betrayal and hopelessness. Afterwards, I went and ate a hamburger. It was the first meal I had actually tasted in months.

I started going to the gym every day. I got into weightlifting and it changed.my.life. My appetite returned; my emotions began to stabilize. I gained strength and confidence in more ways than I could count. Working out during this time gave me a new focus; it gave me a new passion to study and learn about. I met new friends and it gave me a reason to get out and be around people and bright lights and good energy. I couldn’t wait for my gym time every day.

Around this time, I also had another transformative opportunity come my way. Well, it didn’t really just come my way… I went out and got it:) A friend who knew what I was going through had suggested that I look at getting a job that would get me around people, and give me a reason to get up and get out the door every day. Earlier that year, a nearby coffee shop had been hiring. I had put in an application, but never heard back. Now it was August and they weren’t hiring, but I still asked if they’d consider taking an application. They said sure, so I turned mine in. A week later I had an interview with the two managers who would soon become some of my dearest friends. They hired me on the spot and I started not too long after that. Although this position came with some steep learning curves (like how to pull an espresso shot and spin a crepe!) I quickly got in the groove and pretty soon, it all became second nature. But what grew even more than my love for coffee and crepes, was my love for people. The circle I was brought into, with some of the most amazing, inspiring and hilarious coworkers and customers, GAVE ME LIFE. I mean seriously, I have never laughed so much or so hard. Working at the coffee shop gave me a reason to get up, get moving, and put a smile on my face, every morning. Trust me, you cannot serve a good cup of coffee without smiling. On top of that, the pace at which we worked was often fast and furious, so it allowed me to get out of my head. All I had to think about was making a perfect latte… and smiling. 

I stayed there for a year before moving on to other things, but I will never forget my time at the coffee shop. I learned so much about myself. I learned that my smile and knack for making others feel at home, could brighten someone’s day in an instant. I found out that I truly enjoyed serving people and that I was actually a very free spirited, bright and fun-loving person; things I never believed about myself in the past. I found a new circle of friends, and over the course of that year, truly began to grow and rebuild my life, on my own. Now whenever someone is having a hard go in life, I tell them two things: get your butt to the gym and get a job at a coffee shop- because those two things literally saved my life. Well there were other things kept me going too, like my kids and my family, as well as me choosing to make the effort to seek out support so I could learn and grow, but these were definitely two practical and unexpected parts of my lemons to lemonade story.    

The pain of divorce is real no matter what the circumstances are surrounding it. I remember my only prayer to God for a while was, “Please, if nothing else, just make me a better person through all of this. And please allow me to help others in the process.” I know I’ve found so much support and encouragement from the stories of others who have gone before me. I’m not afraid or embarrassed to share my story. I no longer feel guilt or shame for the choices I’ve made. I know now, to trust my gut and not get caught up in second guessing. Because that always gets messy. But for me, choosing to do the hard work of cleaning up the mess, getting the help and counsel I needed, reading and listening to things that would help me change my mindset and ultimately begin to heal and grow at a deep, deep level, have been so worth it. I feel more alive, more free, more ME, than I have ever felt in my life. I’m re-married to a wonderful man and continue to step into my strength and fullness as a woman, mom, wife, daughter, friend and business owner. It’s true that beauty does come from ashes, my life is proof.

Moving on after divorce is a choice. A choice that at times may feel impossible to make. However, there is such a big wide world out there full of amazing people who want to come alongside and support you! Because this isn’t the end, and you don’t have to do this alone. But YOU have to reach out! And that starts with getting up every day, putting two feet on the ground, and choosing to move forward; to call someone, to get a new job, to check in with your kids, to hire a coach or find a counselor; to join a gym, or pick up a hobby, or get out of town. Just start somewhere. One little step at a time is just fine. Because you’ll see, one step becomes two, and then those steps become bigger, those strides become longer. And pretty soon, my friend, you’ll be running.