Facing Hard Truths and Finding Me

Contributed by Courtney

I recently had the great fortune to have dinner with 6 lovely women—all of us either approaching 50 or part way through the decade. Some of us already knew each other, some of us were meeting for the first time. And there was an instant connection among all of us. We talked and talked, and laughed so much. Topics covered it all—dating, caring for our aging parents, believing in the beauty of marriage enough to do it again, children, dogs, divorce, health, sex, marriages facing failure but working their way back to being better than ever, hot flashes . . . you name it, and we likely touched on it. And that night, as I took a step back from the conversation to just savor the moment, I realized that while these beautiful, intelligent, funny, warm, inspirational, soul-enriching women all have such different stories, we all share at least one thing in common: we are strong, strong women.

I realized that while these beautiful, intelligent, funny, warm, inspirational, soul-enriching women all have such different stories, we all share at least one thing in common: we are strong, strong women.

And looking back 3 years ago, I had no idea the extent to which my strength would be put to the test.

Like so many of you, I was married for a long time—28 years. Kids. Dogs. A beautiful house. Friends. And I remember the gut-wrenching realization that my marriage was in a slow decline, and with the kids getting ready to leave the nest, that decline was gathering unstoppable, irreparable speed.

We made the heartbreaking decision. It was a surreal time—living alone in my ’50s had never even remotely been a thought in my head. It was not how I had always envisioned my future. I was terrified, heartbroken for my kids . . . just gutted.

Like marriage, divorce is a very personal thing. Our reasons for our decision were private. But as we slowly began to inform our friends, the reaction of a few astounded me—this private matter somehow became their divorce, too. How could we do this to them? How could we throw a wrench into the happy hum of dinner parties, barbecues, days at the beach, family get-togethers? And while the divorce was a mutual decision, several friends turned their backs on me, so angry at what I’d done.

I completely lost my sense of self. I also felt suddenly exhausted—mentally and emotionally wiped out from being someone on the outside that I wasn’t on the inside.

And what had I done? Our marriage had been good, fun, filled with beautiful experiences that created wonderful memories, but we had simply drifted apart. And while not anyone’s fault, through the course of these years, I had completely lost my sense of self. I also felt suddenly exhausted—mentally and emotionally wiped out from being someone on the outside that I wasn’t on the inside. I could no longer deny that—aside from the joy I got and continue to get from being a mom—I felt personally so unfulfilled, so lonely in a life where I shouldn’t feel lonely at all. And as odd as it sounds, I felt so un-used—I had so much inside of me that I wanted to share, to give, to impart, but I stuffed all of that down for fear of being misinterpreted or completely misunderstood, shut down or snorted at for being “so emotional.” Quite honestly, I felt like I was dying from the inside out because I felt like nobody really got who I was.

Having grown up in a household full of criticism and so much judgment—no matter what grades or athletic achievements I got, no matter how put together I looked, I could always be “better”—I somehow believed it. Looking back, I should’ve asked, Better than what? Better than who I am naturally? What’s wrong with me as me?

But I didn’t. I took those feelings of self-doubt and low self-esteem, mixed them with my pleaser personality, and voila! A journey of constantly feeling sub par began.

So when the life I had known for 30 years began to unravel and I was looking at a future potentially alone, I had to dig deep. I had to find a way back to ME. I had to find the confidence that was buried deep and be the bravest I’d ever been. For me. For my kids. I had to find the guts to be my most authentic self, despite those impressionable decades as a kid being told that my “self” wasn’t good enough. 

I soon realized that living authentically—and by that I mean, “Hey world. This is me. Join me on my journey, or walk away.

I soon realized that living authentically—and by that I mean, “Hey world. This is me. Join me on my journey, or walk away. Either way, I’m gonna be fine.”—takes some getting used to. People I had known for decades didn’t recognize me; this “new,” more self-assured me made them uncomfortable, and consequently, they abandoned the friendship. And it’s not their fault. I hadn’t been my true self with them all along, so no wonder they were confused.

But there were also those few friends who stood by me; who believed in me and made me realize I would be more than OK on the other end of this. And their support meant everything to me because I was so scared.

And what exactly was I looking for? I wanted meaningful conversations. I wanted deep friendships full of mutual sharing and support. I wanted to feel confident and capable. I wanted people in my life who could cry and laugh with me. I wanted to find a way to love myself again, and—for good—get rid of that judgy voice telling me I could be and do better. And the only way for me to do that was to remove myself from my surroundings and immerse myself in a new one. I had to put on the proverbial “big girl pants” and go for it.

And the universe continues to amaze me. I truly believe that the energy we put out is the energy we get back. In my case, I was looking for deeper connections. A group of women who don’t judge. A place where the person I am is just fine. And I’ve been so lucky to have found that. And while it didn’t happen overnight, the months I spent alone gave me time. Time to ask myself the hard questions about my past, present, and future. Time to learn about my new home. Time to feel comfortable in my own skin again. Time to believe that I do have important things to say. Time to trust that I can handle any situation on my own. Time to understand what it truly means to evolve.

And while my journey to self-awareness, self-confidence, and self-love continues, I feel like I’m growing for the first time—learning to become a person I really like and can rely on.

Perhaps some of what I’ve shared sounds familiar to you. Perhaps you’ve had some of these thoughts and longings; perhaps you’re on a new journey, too. We all do this in our own way, in our own time. And while my journey to self-awareness, self-confidence, and self-love continues, I feel like I’m growing for the first time—learning to become a person I really like and can rely on. With every situation I handle, I gain confidence. It’s scary, beautiful, fulfilling . . . and despite all the brutal and emotionally trying steps it took me to get here, I’ve learned so much—not just about myself, but about the good people of my past and present; about life and all the thousands of little pieces that make it whole. And even though I’ve had setbacks, health issues, and lonely days, it is all part of my own journey, and I wouldn’t change a thing.