Author Archives: Sara

Somebody asked for my number this weekend. And I said no.

In the past, I would have given it, even against my better judgment, because I wouldn’t have wanted to hurt their feelings or because I would have been so flattered to be wanted. Especially when it was someone I was also attracted to.

But this time I’m doing things differently. This time I’m listening to my inner voice, I’m trusting my gut, and I’m not willing to compromise on my time, my values, my needs, or my healing process. There will be plenty of time for dating other people. For now, I’m dating myself.

Sometimes I wonder why it took me so long to realize that unresolved trauma and disconnection from self were affecting every facet of my health.

This bumpy road to self-discovery began in 2013. I moved to California and immediately started working at an incredibly toxic organization. The hours were long and the work grueling and I pushed myself, ever the perfectionist. I had also once again found myself in a religious environment where I had to put on a constant front, even outside of work, to keep my job. These stressors began to have an effect on my sleep patterns, causing me to develop severe insomnia.

In 2016, burnt out and defeated, I was recruited by my old boss for a new job at a health system which would require a move closer to LA. This job was my ticket out of hell and I latched on for dear life, moving the very next month. At the same time, I found out that my father had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s, the same disease my mother had been suffering from for the past five years. I started my new job and immediately broke out in stress-induced shingles by my left eye and had to be hospitalized for four days.

In the fall of 2017, as my marriage started crumbling, I began experiencing what seemed to be the world’s worst bladder infection. Months of tests and thousands of dollars later, the cause was determined: interstitial cystitis, a chronic autoimmune disorder with no cure, often associated with and exacerbated by anxiety and depression.

As I was starting to get my symptoms under control through diet and lifestyle modifications, I broke my arm on vacation in spring of 2018 and my relationship and quality of life began spiraling faster. I slipped into a deep depression, even entertaining suicidal thoughts at some points.

And yet, through all of this, I didn’t grasp the connection between mental, physical, and emotional health. I was treating the individual physical problems as they’d arise, without facing the bigger underlying issues.

I was so disconnected from my self that I had no awareness. I was reliant on others’ opinions of me for how I should feel about myself. This led me into cycles of numbing through partying and unhealthy relationships.

It wasn’t until October of 2019 that something in me broke. I was tired of the way things had been going and knew that I wanted something different, but I didn’t know how to get out of my own way. I was stuck in patterns of familiar behavior.

Until January of 2020, when I began to make changes in my life. I found a therapist, I made decisions in my life and about my lifestyle that others didn’t understand but that were right for me and then stuck with them, I began expressing and communicating my needs and wants in my relationships, and I started to feel stronger.

And as I did that, I realized there were certain people in my life and certain relationship dynamics which were not healthy and had never been healthy. And that I had not known what healthy relationships looked like, with myself or with others, as I’d never witnessed them as a child. Fractured relationships and dissociations from self were all that were familiar. Slowly I began to separate myself from these relationships and forge my own path. With each step I took, I felt more sure of who I was and what I was worth.

A year later, as I delve into a new chapter in my life that I never thought I’d be courageous enough to begin, I wish I could say that I have it all figured out. And that I am at peace always. I am not. There are many difficult days. There are cry in your car days and I’ve made a step backwards days and I don’t think I can do this days. But there is also so much hope ahead. And on my good days, I can feel it. I can feel it mentally, I can feel it physically, I can feel it emotionally. I am finally healing.

That thing where you know your parents are both dying of degenerative diseases so you intentionally plan your wedding date for Mother’s Day/your father’s birthday so you’ll always have something happy to celebrate around that time even after they’re gone… and then you and your spouse separate right before the first Mother’s Day after your mother has died.

Gotta find the comedy in life or else you’ll cry.

When a relationship fails, I think that often one of the most profound fears we have is that we’re unlovable. That our flaws are too great. That we are somehow not deserving of love because we have them. Or that the love we’ve lost or left, however imperfect, was the best we will ever have the opportunity of experiencing.

I worry… all the time. I worry I give too much. I worry I’m selfish. I worry I care too much. I worry I’m heartless. My life has been a constant seesaw of worries. But I hold on to the hope that someday, someone will see that my worries stem from a great desire to be good. To love… and live – fully. Even (especially) if that someone is… me.

I wish I could say this was the only purchase I’ve bungled. There have been several.

Outfitting a new home is not an easy process. Doing so when overwhelmed and anxious is even more of a challenge. I started with the goal of being intentional in my purchases. After all, this was a chance to press the reset button on my life. To live more minimally.

And for the most part, that’s what I’ve done. But occasionally I forget and dump everything in my cart and wind up with two bottles of thyme.

I’d like nothing more than to call and see how you’re doing. To ask to video chat and see your face. To make sure you’re well fed and getting lots of walks and even more love. But I waived that right when I left. And I know if I call and say I miss you, there will be the inevitable “Well you chose to leave.” And it’s true, I did. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t the hardest thing I’ve done. That doesn’t mean that when I held your face in my hands and looked into your eyes and said goodbye, that it didn’t hurt like hell to walk out that door, knowing I may never see you again.

I had thought that I had no room left in my heart for pets after the ones I’d lost over the years. Certainly not a dog. I had always been a cat person. But then you came into our lives seven years ago and won me over with your gentleness and devotion. You kept me company on difficult days. You got me moving when I didn’t want to get out of bed. You loved me, in the pure way that only animals can do, as my life was falling apart. For that I will always be grateful beyond measure.

Today I’m tired. Tired of being strong. Of staying positive. Of focusing on the future. I’ve spent the past two months charging towards uncertainty. I’ve uprooted my life. I’ve left my husband. I’ve said goodbye to my dog. I’ve left behind almost all of my belongings. I’ve said goodbye to friends. I’ve lost friends over my decision. I’ve set boundaries, tough ones. I’ve requested and been approved for remote work. I’ve found an apartment. I’ve notified my loved ones. I’ve packed. I’ve driven 2,917 miles cross country. I’ve begun purchasing all of the items needed for a new home. I’ve had to spend my savings. I’ve had to get used to the sound of silence. I’ve had to get used to being alone.

And most days, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Most days, I can see good things on my horizon. Most days, I feel hope.

But today… today I’m tired.

They never tell you just how taxing the process is of separating your life from someone.

Having never gone through a serious breakup, I found myself ill-prepared for the mental anguish, physical tiredness, and emotional exhaustion I faced (and am facing), as I navigate this journey.

Figuring out where to go, and when. What to bring, and what to say goodbye to. Who to see, and how. What to share, and what to hold back.

It is a series of difficult decisions coming at a rapid-fire pace. And the only thing pushing me through the pain and the discomfort is knowing with great certainty that the biggest decision of them all, the one that started this process, was the right one for me.

Today I stumbled upon my wedding dress in the dark recesses of my closet.

I was at my old home, purging and packing, preparing for my upcoming move. To be honest, I had forgotten my dress was in there. I had forgotten how I felt when I wore it. I had forgotten how he looked at me. Six years of marriage and a lifetime ago.

I didn’t cry when I saw it. But I felt the loss acutely. This is real. My marriage is over. My new life is ahead.