I was born into a complicated household.
Loved being a kid.
Loved escaping outside — riding bikes, playing in the woods, getting shipped off to camp — anything to break free from the chaos.
And then… I was 20.
Twenty.
I left after one semester at the University of Maryland.
Academics were easy.
But something felt off.
Maybe it was too quiet. Too stable.
Maybe I didn’t know how to function without the noise.
So I got a job. Found a man. Got married.
Checked all the boxes I thought I was supposed to.
And then… I was 30.
Thirty.
Two babies by then. One more on the way at 35.
Running my own title insurance company.
Breastfeeding between closings.
Cooking dinners. Hosting holidays.
Doing all the things — wife, mom, daughter, business owner.
Juggling so much, I didn’t even know I was juggling.
And then… I was 40.
Forty.
My husband left.
The kids were 1, 7, and 9.
I was scared, raw, unsure.
But I kept going.
Met Joe. Dated again. Laughed again.
Navigated a peaceful divorce. Remarried, Built a blended family.
Chose harmony over hurt.
Raised my boys while trying to hold it all together.
And then… I was 50.
Fifty.
Still too busy to think.
Sold my business.
Reinvented myself again.
Became the coach, the guide, the one others leaned on.
And at the same time — I poured everything into my husband’s vision.
Helped him build not one, but two multi-million dollar businesses.
Put all my energy into someone else’s empire.
I don’t regret it. But I see it now.
I disappeared again.
And then… I was 60.
Sixty.
Not lost. Not invisible.
But awake.
Something cracked open.
For the first time, I stopped asking, “What do they need?”
And started asking, “What do I want now?”
This chapter isn’t about proving.
It’s not about being useful or impressive or nice.
It’s about being true.
It’s about the quiet power that comes when you stop shrinking.
When you stop apologizing.
When you stop abandoning yourself to meet the moment — and instead, become the moment.
I don’t know exactly what comes next,
but I know it’s mine.
It’s my turn now.
Her turn.
And I’m finally listening.
P.S. Something is coming for women like us. Women who gave, built, broke, rose… And are just now waking up.
Stay close.