On 28 April 2025, it was exactly one year since I left my 20 year marriage. One year. In the past, I had tried leaving, nothing had really worked. This time I did the crazy, dramatic thing of moving cross country. With five cats. I left at 1.10am with a friend of a friend. I arrived where I was supposed to be at 5.40pm. Freedom. Peace. Quiet. At last.
I was so ashamed at the start of it. Leaving a 20 year marriage. And I remember on 12 May 2024, when the first issue of the magazine was released, I summoned the courage to write a post sharing what had happened. I was floored. So many others shared in the comments that they had done the same. It wasn't crazy. It wasn't dramatic. It just reached a point it had to be done.
As I looked back. I am happy where I am. Relieved. I have no intention of going back, obviously. But there was a tiny sense of disconnect. While I can tell you everything that has happened in the last year, strangely, I cannot tell you how I got through it. On some days, it was one step forward. And on others, it was a few steps at a time. There was this little voice in my head that said "What If" not to think of what was lost, but what I had overcome.
What if I had stayed? What if I had kept pretending, smiling in public, crying behind closed doors, shrinking myself so small that even I couldn’t find me anymore? What if I had continued to convince myself that this was love, that I could endure a little more pain for the sake of appearances, for the sake of what people would say? I could have stayed and lost myself entirely. But I didn’t.
What if I had believed the lies—that I was too broken to start over, too old to rebuild, too weak to survive on my own? What if I had let those lies echo louder than the quiet truth that had been whispering in my soul for years: You deserve more. You are worthy of peace. You were not made to suffer. What if I had silenced that whisper one more time? But I didn’t. I listened.
What if I had waited for the perfect time, the perfect moment, the perfect plan? What if I had kept saying, “Maybe next year,” until next year turned into never? What if I had waited so long that I forgot I had choices? But I didn’t. I chose me, even when my hands trembled and my heart broke. I chose freedom.
What if I had let fear drive the car forever? Ruled by the fear of being alone, fear of failure, fear of the unknown? What if I had never tasted what it felt like to sleep in safety, to breathe without bracing for impact, to laugh without apology? What if fear had won? But it didn’t. Love for myself rose louder.
What if I hadn’t made it this far—365 days of rediscovering, unlearning, relearning, healing? To paint the walls in my favourite colors, to cry when I needed to, to dance in the kitchen just because I could? What if I had missed this version of me—strong, soft, wiser, free? But I didn’t. I met her.
What if I never knew what healthy love looked like, beginning with my own? What if I never found peace in the silence, never realized that loneliness is not the same as emptiness? What if I never learned that boundaries are not walls, but bridges to self-respect? But I did. I learned. I am learning still.
What if I hadn’t taken the chance to live instead of merely surviving? What if I hadn’t dared to hope that life could be different or that healing isn’t linear, but always worth it? What if I had missed the light of my becoming because I was too scared to leave the dark?
But I didn’t.
I left.
And it was the bravest, truest thing I have ever done. For me.
