I was married when my husband told me he should have been a woman. That revelation cracked open everything I thought I knew—about my marriage, my sexuality, and my worth as a woman. I questioned my desirability, my femininity, and whether my needs even mattered. I attempted to go along with this change for about a year but divorce was the end result. I walked through a storm of emotions that most people never talk about. It's affected me in surprising and lasting ways. I'm very liberal and have many trans and queer friends but having my partner want that within our relationship was really something I never thought i'd have to navigate. More then anything tho, i yearned to find someone who had gone through what i was going thru. It was incredibly isolating.

I’ve been in recovery for over 10 years, and one of the biggest parts of my story is being a parent. I have three kids, and let me be honest—parenting is hard. It’s beautiful and full of love, but it can also be exhausting and overwhelming. One thing I’ve learned along the way is that taking care of myself is just as important as taking care of my kids. When I make my recovery and my well-being a priority, I’m able to show up for them with more patience, presence, and love. It’s not about being perfect—it’s about being real, and doing the best we can one day at a time. I want to share my experience because I know how much it helps to hear from others who are walking a similar path. You’re not alone in the challenges, and you’re not alone in the victories either.

When I first became a mom, I often felt like I was failing my kids. I was constantly frustrated with myself and overwhelmed by the chaos around me. A lot of that frustration came from old wounds I carried from my own childhood — patterns of behavior and emotional pain that I didn't even realize were still affecting me. Over the past several years, I’ve been on a deep healing journey. I have worked through a lot of depression and anxiety, and started to truly unlearn the patterns I grew up with. I also navigated struggles with my own sexual addiction, which impacted my marriage and left my husband feeling used and disconnected. Through all of this, I have learned how to listen to my kids with empathy, support them through their struggles, and parent from a place of understanding rather than reaction. I know how hard it can feel when you're trying to heal yourself and show up differently for your family at the same time. I’d love to walk alongside you as you navigate the hard, beautiful work of healing while parenting.

Ever since I was a child, my dream was to be a stay-at-home mom. When I finally had kids, I loved them deeply, but I quickly realized parenting was much tougher than I had imagined. I carried high expectations into motherhood, shaped by a culture where achievements were praised and kids were often compared to others. I expected a lot from my children and, without meaning to, placed a heavy burden on them. This led to frustration, tension, and a lot of anger that I didn’t know how to manage at first. Over time, through self-reflection and a real desire to change, I learned to recognize the harm my anger was causing and worked hard to rebuild trust and connection with my kids. Our relationships are so much stronger now, and I am grateful every day for the second chance I created by showing up differently. I’d love to walk alongside anyone else who wants to repair and strengthen their bond with their children.

I stayed longer than I should have in an abusive relationship because my sense of stability was completely tied to him - at first. I had four children, but none of them his, thankfully! I didn't have family support. I kept telling myself that it couldn't possibly be as bad as I thought, and if we just had one more good day, maybe it would stick. But deep down, I knew that wasn’t love. I knew better! I'd watched my mom endure a 15-years-long abusive marriage; I wasn't her... The turning point came when I asked myself who I loved more—him, or my kids. I wanted better for them. I didn’t want them growing up thinking abuse was normal. So I left. I moved us to a completely new city where I didn’t know anyone. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But little by little, I rebuilt. I got honest about my pain. I know the violence of that last night left an indelible mark on my children's psyche, so I leaned on therapy, my faith, and the fire I still had inside. Now, I help others who are stuck in that same fear—because I know firsthand that starting over is scary, but staying in harm’s way is scarier.

I have operated in several different relationship frameworks, from monogamous marriage to solo polyamorous. From being married for ten years, to opening up the marriage for two years, to dating and having two girlfriends at once, to casually dating as a single person, I have made mistakes and learned a lot! I do not think one framework is better than another; rather, it depends on your values and goals for the relationship, as there are pros and cons within each framework. Honesty is the best policy, and communicating with clarity empowers everyone to enthusiastically consent (or not) to what is being offered... and what is not.

A year and a half ago, everything in my life flipped upside down. I had made the decision to step away from a high-level executive role because the stress was taking a toll, and I wanted to prioritize my marriage. But right after we returned from vacation, while packing up for a new move just days before Christmas, my husband told me he wanted a divorce. I was completely blindsided and heartbroken. Therapy didn’t quite hit the mark for me, and I struggled to find support groups that truly resonated. So, I made my own path. I leaned on the strength I didn’t even know I had, found clarity through my pain, and gradually rebuilt. I got a new executive role, one that aligns more with who I am now. And despite everything, I’ve even found a sense of peace with my ex we’re friends, and though he’s expressed regret, I know my worth and won’t go back.

I’ve seen how hard it is to walk away from someone you once loved, even when you know the relationship isn’t healthy. One of the most impactful moments in my life was helping a close friend recognize that she was in a toxic relationship. She kept holding on to the rare good moments, second-guessing herself, and rationalizing her partner’s disrespectful behavior. I didn’t push—I just listened, gently asked questions, and helped her see how those patterns were affecting her self-worth. We talked through what healthy love really looks like, and I encouraged her to keep track of what she was experiencing so she could see it more clearly. Over time, she found the clarity and courage to leave. That experience taught me how deeply we crave connection—even when it hurts—and how valuable it is to have someone by your side while you figure things out.