After a year of being separated, I’ve been slowly unpacking everything my grief, my triggers, my pride. And let me tell you… it’s been a lot. I thought I knew who I was. I thought I had a grip on what was real. But the truth is, I had been holding onto so many things that no longer served me. I isolated myself. I pushed people away, even though deep down, I knew I needed help. But my pride? Oof. It told me, “I got this. I’m fine.” Spoiler alert: I was not fine.

Then one day, a friend called. Just to check in. We talked, we laughed, and by the end of the convo, they invited me to their birthday weekend in San Diego. I didn’t even hesitate. I booked the flight right after we hung up. Something in me whispered, “You need this.”

And honestly? That trip cracked something open in me—in the best way. Just being there, surrounded by joy and connection, I felt a shift. Like I was slowly stepping out of my self-made cave. I started to remember who I was before the heartbreak. I realized that traveling, saying yes to life again, was helping me heal.

Months later, I reconnected with some of the same friends for another trip. Four days. Same group. Same big love energy. And this time? I really let myself feel it all. The safety. The connection. The light. I cried—like, hard—aserdrd c I opened up about my broken marriage. I let myself be vulnerable, and instead of judgment or awkwardness, I was met with compassion and love.

I came home changed. Softer. Lighter. More for me.

Because sometimes healing doesn’t come from fixing everything… it comes from letting go. From being honest. From letting yourself be seen—mess, pain, joy, and all.

And I’m learning, finally, that being vulnerable isn’t weakness. It’s the bravest thing I’ve ever done.

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