Almost 30 Years......But Not Really

Tomorrow would have been the 29th anniversary of my first date with my ex.

At first, I thought, Wow, we almost made it to 30 years.
But then it hit me — No, we really didn’t.

That little realization sent my mind spinning, and naturally, I ended up doing some digging on divorce rates (because what else do you do when you're feeling reflective, right?).

Turns out, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention — yeah, I know, kind of weird that they track that — about 42% of all marriages end in divorce. And most of those fall apart within the first 8 years.

One thing that caught my eye? Divorce rates are actually climbing for Gen X couples, especially once their kids move out. About 1 in 3 couples split after the empty nest hits.

And here’s a not-so-shocking detail: most of those divorces? Instigated by women.

So what does that tell you?
To me, it says a lot of women stuck it out for the sake of their kids. And once the kids were grown and gone, they finally had the freedom to say, "You know what? I’m not spending my golden years raising a grown man."

For me, personally, I stayed way longer than I should have.
I stayed even when I felt invisible, unappreciated, disrespected.
The idea of sitting in an empty house with someone I couldn't even stand to look at anymore? No thank you.

Curious, I also looked up remarriage rates.
Apparently, only 40% of women remarry, compared to 75% of men.

Again… what does that tell you?
Women would rather take care of themselves than babysit another adult.
Meanwhile, men seem to be looking for their next mom.

Interestingly, remarriage rates for women are even lower if they have a college degree.
(Shocker: educated women would rather be alone than miserable.)

I recently stumbled across this old clip of Carol Burnett — a comedian from the ‘70s — and she said if she ever got married again, she’d have the guy live next door so she could still have her peace.
Honestly? That’s exactly where I’m at too.
(Here's the clip if you want to watch it.)

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I actually wrote that part a few days ago, and tonight I came back to it after scrolling through some old texts from him.
It’s crazy looking back.

I let a lot of things slide that I shouldn’t have.
I remember him calling me ignorant — so condescending, so ready to tear me down anytime he got the chance.

And he still tells people I "threw him out."
But I have the texts. I have the proof.
He wanted to leave. He planned to leave — because he thought he was moving in with her.
When I said he'd have to tell the kids he left for another woman, that’s when he suddenly wanted to stay.

But by then?
It was too late.
I was done.

I said no.

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Here’s the thing: I don’t have this love stuff all figured out.
Maybe I never will.

But I do know one thing:
If I ever meet someone again, I will never — and I mean never — settle for less than I deserve.

Not ever again.

From Panic to Power: My Journey of Reclaiming Myself

So let me take you back about a decade. Life was… messy. Somewhere between juggling kids, keeping it together on the outside, and spiraling on the inside, I found myself diagnosed with severe panic disorder and depression.

Fun times, right?

Cue the prescriptions: Prozac and Xanax. (Side note: I always feel like those names should come with dramatic theme music.) The Prozac didn’t vibe with me at all. After a few weeks, I felt more uneasy than I’d ever felt before — so I quit taking it. The Xanax? That stuff worked too well. I’d take it when I needed to calm down or sleep, and I’m not gonna lie — it helped. But then I noticed something... off.

One night I was laying in bed, jittery and on edge because I hadn’t taken it. I wanted to get up and grab a pill so badly. That’s when I realized what was happening. I was relying on it. And as a mom with kids? That scared me more than any panic attack ever could. I stopped taking it regularly after that night. I didn’t want to go down a road I couldn’t come back from.

What’s wild is that I had never struggled with mental health before. I should’ve seen that as a red flag. But I didn’t. It’s heartbreaking, honestly — realizing someone you loved and trusted could put you through so much that your brain just… breaks.

But here’s where the story takes a turn.

The other day, I had a win.

A real, personal, I-felt-it-in-my-soul kind of win. And let me tell you — those have been few and far between lately.

Since he left, it’s been a financial scramble. I’ve been applying for jobs like it’s my second full-time job, trying to make up for the income that walked out the door. I’ve been scraping by for over a year and a half. (Single-income life is not for the faint of heart, by the way.)

Then — plot twist! — a friend of mine, someone I’ve been writing with since my early days, mentioned her company was hiring a copywriter. I applied. And guess what? They brought me on as a freelance writer!

Now, it’s not a full-time gig yet, but they did say they’re still hiring for that role. So I’m looking at this as my foot-in-the-door moment. My little crack in the wall of “maybe this is how it all changes.”

Of course, life being life, the person who hired me is out for two weeks, and her fill-in is super pregnant and understandably swamped. So I’m over here trying not to refresh my inbox every ten minutes. In the meantime, I’m grading standardized tests to keep some cash coming in. (Because bills don’t care about your dream job timeline, unfortunately.)

Oh, and the company I normally work with? We just lost a major client. Possibly two. So this new writing gig? Let’s just say it showed up right on time.

I’ve been praying. Hoping. Whispering little wishes to the universe like, “Hey… I could really use a break here.”

If I’m being brutally honest, finances were one of the big reasons I didn’t leave sooner. Trying to survive on one income is no joke. It’s skipping over that cute shirt you like because your kid needs $20 for something again. It’s saying “no” to yourself over and over until you forget what “yes” even feels like.

But if this job becomes permanent? Everything changes. It would mean stability. It would mean freedom. It would prove I never needed him to begin with. And maybe — just maybe — I could buy myself something just because. Maybe fix up the house. Maybe breathe.

But anyway — back to the win.

I felt it. That little surge of finally. That flicker of “maybe I’m not stuck anymore.” And yeah, I’ll admit it — it has felt good seeing him flounder. Not because I wish him harm, but because for so long I was the one paying for his bad decisions. And now? He gets to face them. I get to start again.

That tiny win gave me something I hadn’t felt in a long time: hope.

If your daily life feels like a never-ending uphill battle, maybe it’s time to stop and ask yourself — “Am I on the right path?” Because I’m starting to believe that constant struggle isn’t a badge of honor. It’s a red flashing sign that something needs to change.

Einstein once said, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” I get it now. If you're feeling nervous and scared about trying something new, that probably means it’s exactly what you need to do.

So jump. Headfirst. Scared and shaking if you have to.

You never know what’s waiting on the other side of that leap.