I’m 44 years old, and I feel more lost than ever.
That’s not easy to admit, but it’s the truth.
From the outside, you’d see a woman who’s raised two incredible kids—a daughter now 20 and a son, 18. You’d see someone who’s survived a 23-year marriage, bought a home, invested in her dreams, and held jobs to keep her family going. But inside? I feel like I’ve failed. I’ve lost my house, my savings, and the life I thought I was building. And now, I’m standing here, wondering: How did I end up starting over at this age?
Let me take you back a bit.
I met my ex-husband when I was just 15. Married him at 22. Had my first child at 24, and my second at 26. We built a life together—a house, a family, a routine. But behind closed doors, it was dark. It was toxic. And it took me years to find the strength to leave.
In 2018, I finally did.
Leaving was one of the hardest, most soul-wrenching decisions I’ve ever made. But sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same. I found refuge in the home of a kind woman who opened her doors—and her heart—to me. I rented the upstairs while she lived in the basement, and during that time, I started to heal. It was sacred. It was quiet. It was the beginning of me.
Then, I bought an old farmhouse and poured everything I had into it. My savings, my time, my energy. I thought it would be my sanctuary, my fresh start. But I bought it right before the world shut down—COVID hit, inflation followed, job security crumbled, and I was forced to let it all go before I was ready.
After that, I moved in with someone new—a man I met through work during those uncertain times. He made me feel loved in ways I’d never known before. It was beautiful, intense, passionate… and eventually, unhealthy. We became infatuated with each other. Dependent. And somewhere in all of that, I lost myself again.
I lost my connection with my kids. I stopped doing the things that made me feel whole. I drifted away from friends, from joy, from me. It felt like a dark cloud had rolled in and parked itself right above my soul. This became my second rock bottom.
And now… here I am.
Back at the beginning. Back at the healing grounds. Back in the quiet space where transformation begins.
Why I’m Writing This Blog
Because I know I’m not alone.
I know there are other women out there—mothers, daughters, partners—who are carrying the weight of past choices, heartbreaks, and silent struggles. Women who are waking up in midlife realizing they’ve lost themselves somewhere along the way. Women who want to start over, but feel too broken, too old, too tired to try.
This is for you.
This is for us.
This space, Trust the Process, is where I’ll share the messy, sacred work of coming home to myself. The raw days. The small wins. The moments of doubt and the glimpses of light. No perfection, no pretending—just presence, honesty, and healing.
What Wellness Means to Me Now
Wellness, for me, isn’t a green smoothie or a gym membership. It’s so much deeper.
- Balance
- Choosing peace over chaos
- Remembering my self-worth
- Living with purpose and intention
- Surrendering to God
- Letting go…
Wellness means taking back my power. Reclaiming the parts of me I abandoned for love, security, or approval. It means trusting that this pain isn’t the end of my story—just the middle of a beautiful flower unfolding.
“This pain isn’t the end of my story—just the middle of a beautiful flower unfolding.”
If You’re Here, You’re Not Alone
Maybe you’re starting over too. Maybe you’re walking through your own storm. If so, I see you. And I invite you to walk with me—not behind me, not in front of me—but with me.
Let’s rebuild. Let’s heal. Let’s learn how to trust the process… together.
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With love,
Gigi
