My worth isn’t measured by a failed marriage, but by the strength it took to walk away from something that no longer nurtured my soul. For so long, I let the word divorce feel like a scar, as if it marked me as someone who couldn’t make love last. I carried the weight of what-ifs and should-haves, questioning if I had tried hard enough, if I had been enough. But one day, I realized—the failure wasn’t in the ending. The failure would have been staying in a place that drained me of my light.

Walking away was never about giving up. It was about choosing myself, about refusing to settle for a love that had withered into something unrecognizable. It took courage to leave behind the familiar, to step into the unknown without a safety net. But what I found on the other side was something far greater than the comfort of a broken marriage—I found me.

I am not broken—I am reborn. Reborn in my own strength, in my own love, in the rediscovery of the woman I was always meant to be. I no longer define myself by the love I lost but by the love I’ve reclaimed for myself. And as I move forward, I do so with a heart wide open—not waiting to be saved, but embracing the life I am building with my own two hands.