I am not a robot.

People often see me as this strong, unshakable woman.
Maybe because I left my high-paying finance job to open a café (well, the dream was a restaurant, but close enough). I made it happen with a few friends who believed in me and invested in my idea, or participated in my Kickstarter (thank you!). My ex-husband was one of them. He didn’t love that I (we) spent so much money on it, but he still stood by me.

Fast forward a few years: I co-founded a vending-machine food business. We had raised $2.6M, launched 10 locations, and were reaching for the sky. Until one day, my co-founder and I fought, and he kicked me out of my own company, overnight. It was brutal.

It was the start of COVID, and suddenly I went from being a fearless entrepreneur to a stay-at-home mom. I had never pictured that life. It took me years to digest it all: the failure, the loss, the feeling of being erased.

And then, slowly, I rebuilt.
I found amazing people who helped me get back on track, and that’s when I discovered coaching. It was the best thing that ever happened to me.

But a week before I started my training, my husband left me. Again, I was standing alone.

So yes, I’ve picked myself up a few times.
People call me resilient. And I am. But I’m also human.

After my separation, I had to stay strong, for my kids, but also for myself. I had no job, no clear plan, and two little ones looking up to me. Maybe if I had seen it coming, I would’ve gone back to finance. But life had other plans. And thank God for that, because I now love what I do more than anything.

For the past two years, I’ve worked hard to feel good again, to rebuild, to make new friends, to date, to rediscover what makes me happy. Therapy, coaching, reflection. It helped me realize that things hadn’t been right for a long time. That maybe, we were both better off apart.

I thought I had cried all I could before we separated. But when he said he needed a break and we agreed to split custody, only one tear came out. One.
I remember thinking: Really? That’s all you’ve got?

This summer, a friend told me something that stuck:

“You don’t have to grieve the relationship. You have to grieve the life you imagined together.”

A few weeks later, I was out with two girlfriends. One was telling the story of how she met her ex, it was so romantic. And for the first time in two years, I remembered my story. How Seb and I were roommates for years before falling in love. How it all felt meant to be.

For the first time, I remembered him as the man I loved, not just the man who left me.

That week was hard.
And it all came crashing down the following weekend at a friend’s birthday. Seb was there, with his new girlfriend. I thought I could handle it. I couldn’t.

Seeing them together, seeing my friends talk to them like everything was normal, felt like being hit by a wave I didn’t see coming. I felt small. Invisible. Alone.

A few friends saw that I was off and tried to talk to me, to make me feel better. My host asked if I was okay, and for the first time in two years, I broke down in his arms. Right there, at a party, grieving my marriage.

It wasn’t a pretty weekend. But it was necessary.
Because what I realized is this: for two years, I had been holding it all together. Now that my business is growing, my kids are doing well, and life is finding its rhythm, my body finally gave me permission to let go.

Grief has its own timeline.
You can’t rush it. You can’t logic your way through it. You can bury it for a while, but it will resurface, and when it does, it’s not to punish you, it’s to set you free.

To Seb and Ana: I wish you well. My heart still needs a bit more time, but I know we’ll get there.

To my friends and family: thank you for loving me through every version of myself, even when I take a few steps back. I love you.

And to anyone going through something similar: I see you.
Please don’t wing it: find support, talk to a therapist, a coach, someone you trust. Healing takes time, but you will get there.
One honest moment at a time.