I grew up in the 1970’s — adopted into a Jewish family consisting of a lawyer who saw me like an Italian suit in his closet, a fragile mother who never spoke up and used alcohol to medicate her pain, and a physically and verbally abusive brother.
Can we agree I didn’t have good role models for a relationship or motherhood?
Divorce, the Big D, yanked the silver spoon out of my mouth, tossing me into the not-so-loving arms of an abusive step-father and a drug dealing step-brother, surrounded by criminals who were in and out of prison.
Growing up in the belly of the beast — I was offered my first hit of marijuana at age five.
Going to school with a busted lip? Just another Monday.
Instead of play-dates with schoolmates, I helped my brother burglarize a Sizzlers and stole food to survive.
It was a rich training ground for my soul, but it also took a toll on my body that would show up later as a course-changer.
To survive, I became a tough girl and MADE life give me what I wanted. And I wanted it all. I thought that a life of material luxury would prove my worth and dissolve my pain.
On my way to the top of the fashion industry in my 20’s, I hustled my way into a plum job at Prada.
I thought I had made it. I had all the trappings of “fashionable” success. The British boyfriend, living in the West Village in NYC. But I was miserable and lost.
I’d built a glimmering mansion on top of a swamp, and it was sinking – fast.
At age 24, my body went numb.
One cold, wintery day in NYC, I woke up and my feet and my hands were tingling. My immune system was shot, and according to my diagnosis, I was bound for paralysis, wheelchairs, incontinence, and monthly injections that triggered violent flus.
That was definitely NOT in my plan.
I felt like an animal, caged in my own body. I felt like I had failed, like I was a burden, a broken pile of rubble — unworthy of anything. I hated life, and I hated God.
I could have killed myself. Just disappeared.
There were many times I was tempted. But instead, I did something radical: I began to forgive myself. And everyone else. I began to let go of resistance and anger and started to release what was underneath all my layers of defense and my healing began.
It didn’t happen overnight and it certainly wasn’t simple. Where my tools had failed, I had to find new teachers, coaches and new ways to transform. Being a victim wasn’t going to work anymore, it never does.
In my 30’s I got married when I didn’t think I was ever going to.
The story of how we met is quite ironic—I actually met my husband in a yoga class that I was teaching, yeah I know. I took the leap after 2 years of knowing him and got married, even when I didn’t think it would ever happen to me.
Our journey together had its fair share of bumps along the way, but we chose to stick it out. He asked me to marry him, and I said yes, filled with hope and excitement for our future.
Little did I know that navigating the intricacies of marriage would be a challenge I wasn’t fully prepared for.
After 16 years together, we realized that our union was not the best for either of us.
We experienced the highs and lows that come with any relationship, but somewhere along the way, we lost sight of supporting one another and ended up competing instead. However, the one beautiful thing that came from our time together was the gift of our son.
It became crystal clear to both of us that our paths were no longer aligned.
We tried various approaches, from couples therapy to intense personal development experiences like walking on hot coals at a Tony Robbins event and exploring Tantric workshops.
Yet, it became evident that despite our efforts, we were not a compatible match.
The journey of acknowledging this truth was incredibly difficult, toxic, and painful, particularly for our son, who bore the brunt of our struggles.
I avoided facing the reality of what divorce, aka the Big D, would entail until it became impossible to continue living under the same roof.
And now, here I stand today, having embarked on a new path of understanding and finding my way through this complex terrain.
I’ve come to realize that one of the primary obstacles in navigating divorce is the infamous ego—the force that often blinds us and keeps us stuck in patterns that no longer serve us.