You’re Not Broken—You’re Becoming: Healing After Loss & Hardship

She Never Thought She’d Get Here, But She Did

I never thought I’d get here. Not really. Not in the way that mattered.

For years, I was convinced that the only way forward was to pick up the broken pieces. To glue them back together, to make sense of what had shattered. I thought that was the work—to rebuild what was lost, to fix what was broken, to somehow return to what once was.

But I was never broken. I was becoming.

I have been brought to my knees three times in my life.

·        The first was when my brother, Justin, died. He was only 21. Always smiling, always full of life. And in a single moment, he was gone. There are no words for that kind of loss, only the way it carves you out from the inside, making you question everything you thought was certain.

·        The second was when my career took an unexpected shift. It had been a defining part of my life for nearly two decades, and as that chapter came to a close, I had to navigate uncertainty, reevaluate my direction, and carve a new path forward—one that, in time, led me to something greater.

·        The third was my marriage. The one that left me with scars, the one that stripped me down, the one where I finally had to choose me.

Each time, I thought I had shattered beyond repair. Each time, I thought, this will be the thing that breaks me for good.

But it never did. Because every time I was brought to my knees, I was not being broken—I was being pruned.

I didn’t always know that. For years, I climbed out of the pain only to repeat the same patterns. I didn’t know how to stop. Didn’t know how to recognize the cycles I was caught in, the narratives I had swallowed whole.

I didn’t yet know how to question the voice in my head that told me I wasn’t enough.

I didn’t yet know that grief, loss, and endings aren’t there to punish us—they’re there to make room.

It took years—decades, if I’m being honest—before I truly saw it. Before I understood that becoming isn’t about patching yourself back together. It’s about shedding. It’s about letting the pieces that no longer serve you fall away.

I know my worth now. I remember the exact moment I felt it—when I no longer needed external validation, when I realized that my power wasn’t in proving myself to others, but in owning myself fully. That was the shift that changed everything.

I don’t just speak powerfully—I stand in it. I don’t settle for words—I watch for actions. I don’t tolerate disrespect. I don’t shrink. I don’t explain my value to people who refuse to see it.
And I sure as hell don’t entertain anything that makes me feel less than the woman I have fought to become.

And if you had told me in 2018, or 2002, that I’d ever get here? I wouldn’t have believed you.

Because the woman I was back then didn’t know she was strong enough to make it. Didn’t know she had the power to rewrite her story. Didn’t know she would build a legacy from the very things that tried to bury her.

But she did.

She never thought she’d get here.

But she did.

If you’re in the place I once was—questioning whether you’ll ever feel whole again—let me tell you something: You are not broken. You are becoming.

And I promise you, what’s waiting for you on the other side is more powerful than you can imagine.

📌 Tell me—what’s one thing you never thought you’d survive, but did?