Burning the Old, Becoming the New

Four years ago, my ex-husband filed for divorce after twenty years of marriage and four kids. He was convinced I was cheating-except I wasn’t. And by the time he realized he had it all wrong, I was over it.

That, along with everything else I had endured over the years, pushed me past my limit. I had spent years swallowing my pride, suppressing my feelings, and making sacrifices for a marriage that, in the end, didn’t even afford me the benefit of the doubt. And when it all fell apart, I wasn’t left with answers or closure-just the undeniable truth that I had to rebuild my life from the ground up.

So, he moved out, and my new life began.

But let’s be honest-starting over sounds a lot easier than it actually is. The moment he walked out that door, I was hit with a reality I hadn’t fully processed. I was thirty-nine, a mother of four, and for the first time in decades, I had to figure out who I was outside of being a wife. I had spent half my life as a working housewife-running my business full-time while managing my home-but now, I had to do it all alone. And to make things even harder, I had to do it while making sure my kids felt safe, secure, and loved in the midst of all the chaos.

Boy, was I in for a rude awakening.

People love to give advice when you’re going through a divorce-especially the ones who have never actually been through it themselves. Everyone had questions: What are you going to do? How will you manage your kids alone? Are you sure you don’t want to try to fix things? Some meant well. Others just wanted gossip. And me? I didn’t have answers for them. I didn’t even have answers for myself.

I had no idea where to begin.

All I knew was that I had to rebuild-not just for my kids, but for myself. Their happiness mattered, but so did mine. My healing, my growth, and my dreams weren’t optional; they were necessary. And the moment I started making choices that honored me-not just as a mother, but as a whole woman- the judgement came in full force. Divorce is already a scandal for women. But a woman who refuses to shrink into a quiet, sad little box after divorce? That’s practically criminal.

They expect you to disappear. They expect you to be broken, to be ashamed, to sit at home mourning your old life. They expect you to wear your divorce like a scarlet letter.

I refused.

Yes, the first year was brutal. I was running a business that demanded 40+ hours a week while trying to be fully present for my kids. I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and completely unprepared for the mental and emotional toll of starting over. But even through the hardest moments, I held my head high. I reminded myself that even when I felt like I was falling apart, I was still showing up. I was still making something happen. I was still building something.

I won’t lie and say I had it figured out overnight. I didn’t wake up one day magically healed, with all the answers to life after divorce. But little by little, I started reclaiming my life. I learned how to take up space without apologizing. I learned how to embrace the parts of myself that had been buried under years of being a wife first and a woman second.

And I stopped letting society dictate what my life was supposed to look like.

I am Mariah.

I am a mother. I am an entrepreneur. I am a woman who has been through hell and back, and I am still standing.

And this is just the beginning.