Bloom Anyway

 

I didn’t write this quote, but it speaks straight to my soul. 

Sometimes I feel like I’ve never had a soft life. 

Sometimes I remember that it has been soft at times — fleeting moments of peace, love, laughter. 

And sometimes I wonder if a life without chaos even exists, or if some of us are just meant to learn how to grow through the storm instead of waiting for it to pass.

I’ve had to learn to persevere — to be a warrior, not just a survivor.

I’ve been through enough trauma — some inflicted on me, some I brought upon myself — to have learned compassion, grace, and patience. But it wasn’t the trauma that taught me those things. It was the healing. The slow, deliberate, often painful work of facing myself in therapy.

The part of that quote that pierces deepest is this: “They remember what it was like when no one showed up for them.”

That’s why I write.
This blog began as a form of catharsis, a way to give shape to what felt like chaos inside me. But it’s also for anyone who finds themselves in a similar place — loving deeply, hurting quietly, and trying to hold both truths at once. I want you to know: you are not alone.

My situation is this: I’m married to the love of my life, but I often feel alone in my marriage. I believe he’s going through a midlife crisis, and it’s taken a toll — on him, on us, and perhaps most of all, on me.

I’ve been married before. I know marriage is hard.
But I also know I don’t want to give up again — not on him, not on us, not on love. When my ex-husband gave up on me, it left a mark. And now, having faced my own midlife unraveling, I understand how disorienting it can be to lose your way — even when you’re deeply loved.

So this time, I choose differently.

I choose to stand.
To hold space.
To be the lighthouse guiding him home — even as I keep tending to my own light.

Because maybe that’s what it means to bloom anyway.