Life After Change
Three years ago, my life changed. I loved being a mother to three incredible kids — that part gave me some of the best years of my life, surrounded by lifelong friends and extended family. My marriage was a different story; it was hard, and often lonely, in ways I didn’t have words for at the time. I didn’t have good boundaries, and I didn’t know it yet. I’m ADHD, and likely somewhere on the spectrum, and I needed real time and space to regulate my nervous system. Instead of honoring that, I shamed myself for needing it. I didn’t listen to my body until there was nothing left to give. I wouldn’t trade my kids, or those years with them, for anything. But I do wish I’d had support, or a model, for how to take care of myself in a marriage that didn’t make space for that. Today, my children are grown, I am divorced, and I’m doing work I find meaningful — but different. The life I knew ended almost overnight, and I’ve spent these three years rebuilding it from the ground up.
Family has always been my main focus, and I gave it everything I had — with good intentions, and a lot of love. But I put all my eggs in that one basket, and when it got flipped, there wasn’t much of a foundation left under me. I hadn’t built in time to be a woman, time to reset, or a sense of purpose beyond being a wife and mother. When the divorce came, it wasn’t just my marriage that ended — my job, my finances, my insurance, my retirement plans, all of it had been built around a structure that no longer existed. I had to start from scratch on nearly everything.
What caught me most off guard wasn’t the need to work — I had been working all along. Over those twenty years I taught at hybrid schools, ran my own homeschool co-op, tutored, and trained other homeschool parents through Classical Conversations. What changed overnight was the structure of it all. I went from twenty years of part-time, flexible, contract work to needing a full-time job with benefits, immediately, with no transition period. My kids were almost grown, my identity was shifting, and along the way I lost touch with many friends and family members.
I went through panic. I was grasping, trying to find my footing. I was crying, having panic attacks, and searching online for answers. I was trying to budget and learn how to do all the things I’d never done. Did I have credit? Would I be able to afford to live on my own and still support my kids? I had to find these answers while also trying to decide who I even was. I wasn’t a wife anymore, my kids were almost grown, my identity disappeared overnight.
Once you lose everything in one fell swoop your body intuitively starts doing things to help you. I started swimming and walking just to feel something. I started listening to healing music. I started reaching out to new friends, writing, and doing yoga. Suddenly, one day I realized I was thin, fit, creative, and most of all, confident! When I was serving myself, I was someone I really liked.
The next chapter was hard; moving, finding a job, rebuilding. It was a different kind of stress, but there was also freedom in it. It was mine. I was doing it myself. Now I’m learning boundaries, energy limits, moderate exercise, and how to balance fuel and fun.
When I was at my lowest, I remember searching online for answers to questions like: How long will this pain last? Will I make it? Am I the only one? I want to help anyone out there who is in the same place. I want you to know healing comes, new struggles come too, but a new beautiful season is possible.
What I experienced didn’t feel like a new chapter at the time. It felt like the dog ate the entire book, and I picked up the pieces that still belonged to me, burned the rest, and started a sequel.
I am three years into rebuilding, feel free to join me. Kris Ellery
