Then I found out about the affair, right after Thanksgiving.

By Christmas, things had obviously changed. We weren’t just taking some time apart anymore. We were moving toward divorce, and I knew at some point she was going to have to know that, along with the reason why.

She was planning to spend Christmas with her mom, but she asked if she could come stay with me for a few days first so she could see her friends while she was back in Colorado. Of course I said yes. Her room was still her room, and regardless of what was happening between her dad and me, she was my daughter.

Before she came to town, I messaged my husband to let him know she would be there and suggested that he make plans to see her. I really felt like he needed to be the one to tell her what was happening. She was his biological daughter, and frankly, I didn’t think I should have to be the one to explain that we were getting divorced because he had been having an affair.

But he didn’t make plans with her.

So she came to stay with me, and we had a nice weekend together. We went to yoga, had dinners out, she spent time with her friends, and we just got to be together. I tried not to let this huge thing hanging over my head ruin our time, but I knew I couldn’t let her leave without telling her the truth.

When it was time for her to go to her mom’s, I reached out to him again. I basically gave him one more opportunity and asked if he wanted to drive her so the two of them could have some time together and he could finally tell her what was going on.

He was busy. He couldn’t do it.

So I loaded up the car and took her myself.

About halfway there, I told her that her dad and I were getting divorced, and then I had to tell her why. I was driving, absolutely sobbing, as I explained to this 19-year-old girl that her dad had been having an affair and that our marriage was over.

What I remember most about that conversation, though, is how sweet she was to me. Here I was thinking I needed to take care of her through this news, and somehow she was taking care of me.

I told her that I didn’t know what our relationship was going to look like after the divorce, but I knew what I wanted it to look like. I wanted to be in her life for as long as she would have me. I wasn’t going anywhere just because her dad and I weren’t going to be married anymore. I had been part of raising her for more than 13 years. I loved her like my daughter because, to me, she was my daughter.

Then she told me something that completely caught me off guard.

Her mom had told her for years that her dad had cheated on her when they were married, and she had never believed her. Now, sitting in the car with me after hearing what had happened in our marriage, she said she felt bad. Maybe she should have believed her mom all along.

At the time, I didn’t really know what to do with that information. I was still trying to process what had happened in my own marriage, and I wasn’t about to start dissecting a marriage that had ended years before I was even in the picture. So I tucked that little piece of information away and kept moving forward.

That conversation happened about a year and a half ago.

Then, just a few weeks ago, I connected with a longtime family friend of my ex-husband’s, and during our conversation, they confirmed that he had cheated on our daughter’s mom when they were married.

And, honestly, I knew…before they told me, I had known all along.

Thinking back, which I don’t try to do often these days, there were signs throughout my own relationship that I ignored.

There were things that didn’t quite sit right with me, things I questioned and then explained away because I wanted to believe the explanation.

Looking back, I wish I had trusted my gut more. And I wish I had understood that loving someone and wanting a relationship to work doesn’t mean you should stop listening to yourself when something feels off.

So maybe that’s the part of this story I want someone else to hear: don’t ignore the signs. Ask the uncomfortable questions. Pay attention when someone’s words and actions don’t line up.

But when I think back on this story, more than anything else, I still think about that drive. I think about crying so hard while trying to keep my eyes on the road. I think about telling our daughter that her family was changing and watching her somehow find the strength to comfort me while she was processing the news herself. I think about how badly I wanted her to understand that I wasn’t divorcing her.

And I still think about the fact that I never should have been the one having that conversation with her in the first place.

Her dad should have told her.

I gave him the opportunity. More than once.

He chose not to.

So I did what I had done so many times before. I showed up, I had the hard conversation, and I made sure she knew the truth, and that she knew how very much she was loved.

~ the jessie

We even joked that we were going to have Naked Thursdays.

That was the promise, anyway. We would work hard now and have fun later.

Except later never came. Or at least, it didn’t come in the way I imagined.

By the time our daughter was preparing to leave home, my husband had already found someone else. While I was managing our family, our home, my career, and a body that suddenly no longer felt like my own, he was building a separate life, one that included a girlfriend in Asia whom he visited while traveling for work.

The years we had spent looking forward to becoming a couple again ended with us no longer being a couple at all.

And the more I talk to women about my divorce, the more I hear different versions of this same story. The details aren’t necessarily the same, but the timing feels eerily familiar.

Just when the kids need us less and we think we might finally have some room to breathe, our bodies start changing, our identities start shifting, our parents are getting older, our careers are demanding more, and for some of us, our marriages start falling apart.

Why does everything seem to happen at once?!?

The Midlife Collision

I think your 30s and 40s can feel like one very long shift. You’re raising kids while trying to build a career, maintain a home, manage schedules, remember appointments, buy groceries, plan meals, organize holidays, worry about finances, and keep the entire machine moving.

In my marriage, I worked full-time and earned roughly what my husband earned, but I also handled nearly everything at home. I planned the meals, bought the groceries, paid our bills, handled our daughter’s appointments and school responsibilities, did the laundry, changed the light bulbs, took out the trash, and carried that invisible checklist in my head of what needed to happen next.

And then there were the teenage years, which I probably didn’t survive as gracefully as I would have liked. But if you’ve raised a teenager, you know there are seasons when graceful parenting isn’t really the goal. Sometimes everyone just needs to make it to the other side alive and still speaking to one another.

Meanwhile, my husband went to work, went to the gym (sometimes twice a day), read his books, and took extensive trips for work.

Looking back, I realize he had time for those things because I was creating that time for him.

I will absolutely give him credit where it is due. He handled our investments and encouraged us to take financial chances I probably wouldn’t have taken on my own, and some of those decisions benefited us greatly. We each brought things to the marriage.

But what I really wanted and needed wasn’t someone to manage our investments. I wanted a partner.

And I think that’s an important distinction because this isn’t really about who takes out the trash or loads the dishwasher. It’s about whether both people believe their time, careers, interests, needs, and exhaustion matter equally.

I had become so accustomed to carrying everything that I don’t think I fully realized how heavy it was. I thought that was just what being a wife and a mom looked like.

Until I didn’t.

And Then Perimenopause Walks Through the Door

As if all of that isn’t enough, somewhere around the same time you’re imagining that life might finally get a little easier, your own body can decide to completely change the rules.

For me, there were changes I didn’t understand at first. Sleep was different. My body was changing. My emotions sometimes felt closer to the surface. There were moments when I simply didn’t feel like myself, and I didn’t necessarily have the language to explain why.

Eventually, I learned I was in perimenopause.

Perimenopause is the period leading up to menopause when hormones begin fluctuating. It commonly starts in a woman’s 40s and can last for years, sometimes close to a decade. The symptoms are different for every woman, but they can include hot flashes, night sweats, interrupted sleep, anxiety, mood changes, brain fog, difficulty concentrating, weight changes, lower libido, and fatigue.

Basically, a whole lot of fun happening inside your body at exactly the time you’re supposed to be getting your groove back.

And one of the most frustrating parts is that a lot of women don’t even realize perimenopause is what they’re experiencing. You can go to your primary care doctor because you’re exhausted, anxious, gaining weight, forgetting words, waking up in the middle of the night, and generally wondering what the hell happened to you, only to have standard labs come back normal and be told that everything looks fine.

Except you don’t feel fine.

Because perimenopause is gradual and there isn’t one definitive test that announces, “Congratulations! This is why you feel crazy,” women can spend years assuming they’re just stressed, aging badly, failing at taking care of themselves, or somehow no longer capable of handling a life they managed just fine a few years earlier.

And look at the timing.

Your kids may be leaving home. Your parents may suddenly need more from you. Your career may be at its peak. Your body and sex drive may be changing. You may be looking in the mirror and trying to figure out who this new version of yourself is, while your marriage is going through its own transition at exactly the same time.

Perimenopause does not cause divorce, and I don’t want to suggest that it does. But research does show that this transition often overlaps with other significant emotional and relational stressors: children leaving home, aging parents, career demands, sexual changes, and marital conflict.

At the same time, divorce has increasingly become a midlife experience. Research from Bowling Green State University’s National Center for Family and Marriage Research found that between 1990 and 2023, divorce rates declined for adults under 45 while increasing for every age group 45 and older.

So no, women aren’t suddenly turning 45, entering perimenopause, and getting divorced because of their hormones. Life and marriage are much more complicated than that.

But I can’t help wondering whether all of these things collide at exactly the moment when cracks that have existed for years become impossible to ignore.

What I Needed Was Understanding

This is the part that feels the most personal to me.

I was in the middle of perimenopause when my husband found a girlfriend.

After years of taking care of him, our daughter, our home, and our life, I had reached a stage where I needed some understanding and support too. I needed patience and curiosity. I needed someone willing to understand why I wasn’t sleeping, why my body was changing, why my emotions sometimes felt closer to the surface, and why the woman who had spent years managing everything might finally be tired of managing everything.

I wasn’t asking him to fix me.

I needed the person who had benefited from my strength for all those years to support me when I wasn’t feeling particularly strong.

Instead, he invested his energy somewhere else.

What still makes me angry is that we had spent years talking about the life waiting for us on the other side of parenting. I genuinely believed we were both working toward it. I thought we were going to get through the hard years of raising a family and then find each other again.

I didn’t realize I was maintaining our shared life while he was quietly creating another one.

We Thought the Empty Nest Was Going to Be the Reward

I don’t think we were unusual in looking forward to the empty-nest years. For so long, so much of our life had naturally revolved around being parents; the schedules, school, activities, decisions, worries, celebrations, and all the everyday responsibilities that come with raising a child.

We loved being parents, but we also talked about the season that would come next, when we would have more time for each other again. We imagined spontaneous dinners, weekend trips, more sex, more freedom, and the chance to rediscover who we were as a couple when parenting was no longer the center of our everyday lives.

Hence, Naked Thursdays.

We thought later was something we had earned.

But an empty house doesn’t automatically fix a disconnected marriage. If anything, it may finally expose what both people were too busy to see before.

Looking back, I don’t think my marriage ended because our daughter left home. I don’t think it ended because I entered perimenopause, and I don’t think it ended simply because we were in our late 40s.

I think all of those things collided at a time when what had been hiding underneath our marriage for years became impossible to ignore.

And that’s what I keep coming back to when I hear similar stories from other women.

So How Do We Change the Story?

I don’t think the answer is that every marriage should be saved. Some shouldn’t be. There are marriages filled with abuse, dishonesty, betrayal, or so much loneliness that staying together isn’t necessarily the victory.

But for relationships where there is still love and where both people genuinely want the marriage to work, maybe we need to start talking about this stage of life long before we arrive in it.

Maybe couples need to ask some uncomfortable questions while they’re still in the thick of raising kids.

Who is carrying the invisible load? Who gets free time? Who gets to have hobbies? Whose career gets prioritized? Who is responsible for remembering everything? Who is exhausted? And is one person slowly disappearing into the role of taking care of everyone else?

Maybe our partners need to understand perimenopause too. It shouldn’t fall entirely on women to identify what’s happening to their bodies, research treatment options, find the right doctor, and then explain everything to their partners so they understand how those changes might be affecting the relationship.

And maybe we need to stop telling ourselves that we’ll get back to the marriage “later.”

Take the trip you can afford now. Schedule the date. Talk about sex. Talk about resentment. Talk about who’s exhausted and why. Ask questions before you become strangers. Get counseling now before it’s too late.

Maybe We Need a Different Midlife Promise

For years, women have been told we can have everything: the career, the family, the marriage, the beautiful home, the healthy body, the happy children, and the exciting sex life. But somewhere along the way, “having it all” also came to mean being responsible for making sure it all happens: building the career while managing the family, keeping the marriage connected, creating the home, raising the kids, taking care of ourselves, and somehow making sure everyone is happy along the way.

If we just work hard enough and manage it all well enough, that’s the life we’ll get.

Well, that’s bullshit.

Maybe the better promise is that you shouldn’t have to do everything to deserve someone staying. You shouldn’t have to remain endlessly competent to be worthy of care, and you shouldn’t have to move through one of the most physically and emotionally complicated transitions of your life alone while living beside someone who promised to be your partner.

And if your marriage does end during this season, it doesn’t mean you failed.

I don’t want women to fear midlife. I’m sharing this because I lived it, and now I’m watching and listening as other women experience their own versions of it. I don’t want us walking into this stage of life blind.

I want women to understand what’s happening to their bodies, especially after spending so many years focused on taking care of everyone else. We raise the kids, support our partners, build our careers, manage our homes, worry about our parents, and keep track of what everyone around us needs, often without realizing how far down the list we’ve put ourselves.

I want couples to understand that the empty nest isn’t simply the finish line we’ve been waiting for, but a transition into a new season that deserves attention too. More than anything, I want us talking about what true partnership looks like when the kids need us less and women finally have the space to ask: What do I need now?

I didn’t get the trips we planned. I didn’t get to date my husband again.

And I definitely didn’t get Naked Thursdays.

But perhaps the life waiting for me after parenting, perimenopause, betrayal, and divorce was never supposed to be the life we planned together.

Perhaps it’s the one I’m creating now, a life where I listen to my body, where I don’t confuse being needed with being loved, and where partnership, should I choose it again, actually means partnership.

And, apparently, a life where Thursdays are mine to do with whatever, and whomever, I damn well please.

~ the jessie

Your spouse. Your marriage. The future you thought you were going to have.
Maybe the house. Friends. Traditions. Financial security.

But there’s another loss I don’t think we talk about nearly enough.

Their family.

For more than 13 years, my husband’s family was my family. My bonus family.

And I was lucky because I genuinely adored them. Most of the time. Because, you know…family.

We traveled extensively together. Celebrated holidays and birthdays. I watched my nieces and nephews grow from little kids into teenagers. We experienced a lot of life together.

We also lost my father-in-law. I loved him. I grieved him. I still miss him.

These weren’t just people I saw because I happened to be married to someone they were related to. After 13 years, they were woven into my life.

And then I got divorced.

There’s no section in the divorce paperwork for this part.

No box to check that says:
What happens to all the people you loved who came with the marriage?

Recently, my former mother-in-law reached out and told me she would like me to continue to be part of the family, however that feels comfortable for me.

And honestly, it meant a lot.

There’s some background that makes her invitation even more interesting.

She and my father-in-law were divorced, but somehow managed to have that rare post-divorce relationship where they remained friends. They traveled together. They attended family events together. Their marriage ended, but their family really didn’t.

So I understand why she would wonder if some version of that could happen again.

But here’s where our stories are different.

I don’t want that kind of relationship with my ex.

I don’t say that out of anger. It’s actually one of the things I’ve become pretty clear about. The only time I will voluntarily be in the same room with my ex is to celebrate our daughter.

Her graduation. Her wedding someday. Whatever big, beautiful moments her life brings.

For her, I will always show up.

I’ll smile. I’ll be gracious. I’ll celebrate her. And I will never make one of her important days about what happened between her dad and me.

But outside of that?

I don’t need to share holidays with him. I don’t need family dinners with him.
And I don’t need to prove that I’ve healed by being able to sit across the table from him at Thanksgiving.

So if I stay connected to his family, it will have to look different.

Maybe it’s lunch with my former mother-in-law and her partner. Maybe it’s dinner when I’m in town. Birthday texts and checking in, because that’s me, and their birthdays will remain on my calendar.

And the kids I watched grow up? We Snapchat. We text. As long as they want me in their lives, I’ll be there.

I’m realizing I can love people in his family and still choose not to have a relationship with him.

Maybe that’s what family after divorce looks like sometimes.

Not pretending nothing happened. Not forcing relationships that no longer belong in your life. Just figuring out which ones still matter and finding a new way to have them.

I don’t know exactly what that looks like yet. And if I’m being truthful, I don’t know if I’m emotionally ready to take that first step.

But I appreciate having the option, because I know a lot of people who go through divorce don’t get one.

At the end of the day, I had a bonus family for more than 13 years. I have so many happy memories with them, and divorce doesn’t erase those.

Which is why her invitation meant more to me than she probably realizes.

Because divorce already takes so much.

And for now, I’m just really grateful someone from my old life reached into my new one and reminded me:

You’re still family if you want to be.

I think I do. I just need to figure out what that looks like now.

~ the jessie

I’ve been thinking about what I wanted to say about this milestone, and I keep coming back to one word:

Survival.

That’s what Year One was about.

Not reinvention.

Not finding myself.

Not creating some fabulous new post-divorce life.

Surviving.

There were days when survival looked pretty good from the outside.

I traveled. I started a new job. I moved to Arizona. I went to yoga. I met new people. I went to dinners and events. I explored new places. I wrote. I laughed. I took pictures and shared the happy moments.

And those moments were real.

But so were the ones you didn’t see.

The tears. The anger. The loneliness. The nights I couldn’t sleep. The questioning. The second-guessing. The moments when I wondered what the hell I was doing with my life.

There were days when I felt strong and independent and genuinely excited about what was ahead.

And there were days when making it through the day without completely losing my shit felt like an accomplishment.

Both counted.

Because looking back now, I don’t think Year One was supposed to be about having everything figured out.

It was about getting through it.

Getting through the betrayal.

Getting through the grief, not only for the marriage, but for the life I thought I was going to have.

Getting through the loneliness.

Getting through moving away from people and places that had been home for decades.

Getting through starting over when I never asked to start over in the first place.

And somehow, day after day, I did.

Not perfectly.

Not gracefully.

But I’m here.

Apparently, I’m Celebrating in Flagstaff

So how does one commemorate the first anniversary of a divorce?

Apparently, I packed up Winnie and escaped the Scottsdale heat for a weekend in Flagstaff.

No grand divorce party. No burning of the wedding dress, although a fun idea! No dramatic toast to freedom.

Just me, my dog, cooler temperatures, and another place in Arizona I’ve been wanting to explore.

And honestly, that feels pretty appropriate.

Because part of this year has been learning to do things without waiting for someone else to do them with me.

I’ve traveled alone. I’ve gone to movies alone. I’ve eaten at restaurants alone. I’ve made decisions alone. I’ve built routines that belong entirely to me.

Most of the time, I’m pretty damn proud of that.

But I’m also not going to wrap Year One up with a pretty little bow and pretend I’ve mastered this whole being-alone thing.

I haven’t.

There are still times when being by myself feels incredibly unsettling.

I’ll have a great day. I’ll explore, have dinner, walk around, read, watch TV, and then I’ll crawl into bed and something changes.

I can’t sleep. I feel restless.

My mind starts going.

Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m feeling or why I’m feeling it.

I just know it sucks.

And maybe the hardest part is when it happens after I’ve been doing really well.

Because there’s this immediate frustration:

Seriously? We’re still doing this?

A year later?

That’s the part of healing I don’t think we talk about enough.

When you’re in the thick of something hard, you expect hard days.

But once you’ve started feeling better, the setbacks somehow feel worse.

You think you should be further along.

You start questioning whether all the progress you’ve made was actually progress at all.

I’m trying to remind myself that it was.

A hard night doesn’t erase a good month.

A setback isn’t starting over.

And apparently, healing doesn’t follow the nice, straight timeline I would very much prefer it to.

So I’m trying to give myself a little more grace.

Because maybe Year One wasn’t about becoming completely healed.

Maybe it was simply about surviving long enough to realize that I will be okay.

And I am. Not every day. But I’m okay.

So, What Happens in Year Two?

That’s the question I’ve been thinking about lately.

Because if Year One was about surviving, I don’t want Year Two to be another year spent focused on what happened to me.

I want to start focusing on what happens next.

And the truth is, I’m not exactly where I want to be yet.

I think that’s important to say out loud.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come, but there is still work to do.

There are parts of me that are still healing.

There’s confidence I’m still rebuilding.

There are relationships I’m still figuring out.

There’s a new state I’m still learning to call home.

And there’s an entire future I’m still trying to picture.

I don’t have it all figured out.

Maybe I don’t need to.

Because Year Two doesn’t have to be about arriving.

Maybe it can simply be about becoming.

Refocusing.

Exploring.

Getting curious about my own life again.

Gaining clarity about what I want this next chapter to look like, not what I thought it would look like ten years ago, and not what anyone else thinks it should look like now.

I want to travel more.

Write more.

Laugh more.

Build deeper friendships.

Continue exploring Arizona.

Try things I’ve always wanted to try.

Say yes to experiences that scare me a little.

Say no to things that don’t feel right without feeling like I owe anyone an explanation.

Trust myself more.

And maybe even figure out what I want love and relationships to look like someday, without feeling like I need to figure that part out right now.

Mostly, I want to build a life that feels like mine.

Not a replacement for the life I lost.

Not proof to anyone that I’m doing great.

Just a life I genuinely love living.

Starting Fresh

One of the things I want to take into Year Two is something incredibly simple:

Every day is another opportunity to start fresh.

Not January 1.

Not your birthday.

Not your divorce anniversary.

Tomorrow morning.

Or Tuesday.

We get to start over as many times as we need to.

I need to remember that on the nights when I can’t sleep.

On the days when Arizona doesn’t quite feel like home yet.

On the days when I’m frustrated that I’m not further along.

Those days don’t mean I’m failing.

They mean I’m human.

So I’m going to keep giving myself grace.

I’m going to keep doing the work.

I’m going to keep exploring.

I’m going to keep showing up.

And when I have another setback, and I’m sure I will, I’m going to try to remember that it doesn’t erase everything I’ve already accomplished.

Because every hard day I’ve had so far eventually ended.

And then morning came.

And I started again.

Here’s to Year Two

So today, one year after my divorce became final, I’m not celebrating the end of my marriage.

I’m celebrating the fact that I’m still here.

I’m celebrating resilience.

I’m celebrating growth.

I’m celebrating the friends and family who answered the phone, listened, checked in, visited, made me laugh, let me cry, and reminded me over and over again that I wasn’t doing this alone.

I’m celebrating Winnie, who has unknowingly been beside me through practically every part of rebuilding this life.

And I’m celebrating the woman who packed up her dog and drove herself to Flagstaff because she wanted a weekend away and didn’t wait for someone else to come along.

She’s not completely healed.

She doesn’t have everything figured out.

She’s not quite where she wants to be.

But she’s a hell of a lot further along than she was a year ago.

And she’s still going.

One day.

One trip.

One setback.

One fresh start at a time.

Year One was about surviving.

Year Two is about becoming.

And I’m ready to see who that woman turns out to be.

~ the jessie

“Don’t make any major life decisions.”
“Give yourself a year.”
“Slow down.”
“Just heal first.”

At the time, I nodded, smiled, thanked them for the advice...

...and then proceeded to do exactly what I was planning to do anyway.

Looking back, I realize they weren’t trying to discourage me. They were trying to protect me.

But when you’re in the middle of your life falling apart, you’re not thinking about protecting your future self.

You’re thinking about surviving.

I wasn’t asking myself, “What should I do?”

I was asking myself...

How am I going to support myself?
Who am I now?
What do I want my life to look like?
Where do I even belong?

So apparently, while everyone else was reading the post-divorce rulebook...

I accidentally turned it into my own personal to-do list.

Don’t make any major life decisions.

I changed jobs and bought a new car.
I don’t regret either decision.

Don’t move.

I packed up my life after 25 years in Colorado and moved to Arizona.
Do I regret it? No. But, it’s made me appreciate all that I had in Colorado that I have yet to grow here in AZ.
Do I regret moving in the middle of an Arizona summer?
Not necessarily, but am making plans to escape the heat for the rest of this summer and next!

Don’t make major financial decisions.

I furnished a new apartment, bought a car, relocated to another state, and started rebuilding my life from scratch.

Looking back...those were pretty major decisions.

Don’t start dating too soon.

Well...there was S.

About five months after my ex moved out, I started dating someone. We spent about six months together, and although it wasn’t forever, I wouldn’t change it.

If anything, I’d go back and simply thank him.

He met me at a time when I was still figuring out who I was. He accepted my messy, healing, occasionally crazy self without expecting me to have everything figured out.

Sometimes people aren’t meant to be your forever.
Sometimes they’re meant to remind you that your heart still works.

(There’s definitely more to that story in a future post.)

If there had been a punch card for post-divorce “don’ts,” I probably would’ve earned the free coffee.

The funny thing is, I wasn’t trying to ignore anyone’s advice.

Life just kept presenting opportunities...and I kept saying yes.

It wasn’t until later that I discovered therapists, psychologists, and divorce coaches have been saying the same thing for years.

Slow down.

There’s a reason.

Divorce consistently ranks among the most stressful life events a person can experience. On the Holmes-Rahe Stress Scale, it ranks just behind the death of a spouse. Researchers have found that when we’re carrying that much emotional stress, our judgment, emotions, and decision-making can all be affected. That’s why many therapists recommend waiting six to twelve months before making additional major life changes whenever possible.

And honestly...

They have a point.

Looking back now, I can see why so many people encouraged me to pause.

Not because my decisions were necessarily wrong.

Because I was making them with a heart that was still trying to find solid ground.

At the time, every decision felt like a step toward a better future.

A new job.
A new city.
A fresh start.

But lately I’ve found myself asking a harder question.

Was I running toward something...or was I running away from something?

I don’t think the answer is as simple as one or the other.

Part of me was absolutely chasing opportunity.

The new job.
A fresh adventure.
The chance to prove to myself that I could build a life on my own.

But another part of me was desperately trying to outrun the pain.

If I stayed busy enough...
If I kept making progress...
If I focused on what was next...
Maybe I wouldn’t have to sit with what I’d lost.

The irony is, I spent so much energy trying to build my next chapter that I don’t know if I fully appreciated how much the previous one deserved to be mourned.

That doesn’t mean I regret where I ended up.

Far from it.

I’m incredibly grateful for this job.
For Arizona.
For the financial ability to make these changes.
For yoga.
For writing again.
For the people I’ve met.

For the person I’m becoming.

I know many people going through divorce don’t have those opportunities, and I never take that for granted.

Would I slow down if I could do it all over again?

Probably.

Not because I made bad decisions.

Because good decisions deserve thoughtful timing, too.

At the same time, I don’t believe in living with regret.

Every decision, good, bad, rushed, or carefully considered, has led me here.

Life doesn’t always hand us one change at a time.

Sometimes your marriage ends.
A career opportunity appears.
A new city calls your name.
Someone unexpected walks into your life.

And before you know it, you’ve completely rewritten the story you thought you’d be living.

Maybe the lesson isn’t that we should never make big decisions after divorce.

Maybe the lesson is to ask ourselves why we’re making them.

Are we running from the pain?
Or are we running toward the life we hope to build?

Sometimes the answer is both.

And maybe that’s okay.

Because healing isn’t always linear.

Sometimes it’s messy.
Sometimes it’s rushed.
Sometimes you accidentally ignore every piece of well-intentioned advice you’ve been given.

I certainly did.

But every decision I made, even the ones I might have approached differently today, helped shape the woman I’m becoming.

So I’m done wondering what I should have done.

I’d rather be curious about what’s next.

After all...I’ve already checked off most of the “don’ts.”

Now I get to write my own list.

~ the jessie

Check out the Nordstrom Anniversary Sale.

It’s honestly one of my favorite times of the year.

Every July, I keep a running list on my phone of things I’ll likely need to replace. Not the fun, impulse-buy kind of shopping, but the things I know I’ll eventually need anyway.

I’ve never looked at the Anniversary Sale as an excuse to buy a whole new wardrobe. For me, it’s my annual refresh.

Think:

• Bras and underwear.

• Socks (because somehow they all disappear or develop holes at the same time).

• Pajamas

• Work shoes and tennis shoes.

• A great pair of jeans.

• A blazer or jacket I’ll wear for years.

• Skincare, makeup, and beauty favorites.

• And maybe one fun beauty tool I’ve been eyeing.

The best part?

When something new comes in, something old goes out.

It’s the one time each year I intentionally refresh my closet and bathroom cabinets instead of just adding more stuff. Less clutter. Better quality. And because it’s on sale, it feels a little less painful on the wallet.

This year, I skipped the clothes altogether...and that’s another story for another day.

Instead, I finally invested in two beauty tools I’ve wanted for years: the Dermaflash and the Dr. Dennis Gross LED Face Mask. I’m excited to see if they live up to the hype.

Not a fan of crowded malls?

Neither am I.

Pour yourself a cup of coffee, or better yet, a glass of wine, light your favorite candle, put on a playlist, curl up on the couch, and shop online instead. Same great deals, zero parking headaches, and no fitting room lines.

A Few Things That Caught My Eye

Even though I stayed away from clothing this year, there were plenty of pieces I ordered and loved:

• Anessa Pocket Wide Leg Jeans

• Nordstrom Cashmere V-Neck Cardigan

• Hanky Panky Original Rise Thong

• Blissy Mulberry Silk Pillowcase

• Bric’s X Travel Carry-On & Tote Set

• New Balance 327 Sneakers

Pro Tip for Next Year

If you love this sale as much as I do, put a recurring reminder on your calendar for mid-July.

And if you shop it every year, the Nordstrom Credit Card is honestly worth considering. Cardholders typically get early access, which means better selection before everyone’s favorite items and sizes disappear.

Now I want to know...

What’s the best thing you’ve found this year?

Drop your favorite purchase in the comments. I’m always looking for recommendations...and let’s be honest, I probably have room for one more thing in my cart.

Happy shopping, and cheers to the weekend!

~ the jessie

For the last two years, I’ve had a little habit.

Ever since I found out about my ex-husband’s affair, there have been random moments when I’d be walking through the house, making coffee, folding laundry, or doing absolutely nothing important, and I’d quietly mutter to myself...

“Fuck Jason.”

No audience.

No dramatic moment.

Just a quick release into the universe.

In those first few months, it happened...a lot.

As time passed, it became less frequent. Now it only happens every once in a while. I don’t sit around thinking about him anymore, and I certainly don’t want him back. It’s just my brain’s shorthand for, “Well...that was a hell of a chapter.”

Two simple words.

Very efficient.

About a year ago, I bought a new car.

A few days later, my permanent license plate showed up in the mail. I opened the envelope, looked down, and immediately started laughing.

The letters and numbers weren’t actually “Fuck Jason,” but they were close enough that my brain instantly read them that way.

Out of every random combination possible, I somehow received a license plate that, to me, basically said, Yep...fuck Jason.

I laughed so hard because it felt like the universe saying, I got you.

For the last year, every time I’ve walked up to my car, it’s made me smile.

With my move to Arizona, I had to register my car here, which meant getting Arizona plates.

I was genuinely a little sad to give up my Colorado plates. They had become my own little inside joke with the universe, but they also represented one more connection to the place I’d called home for the last 25 years.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to turn them in, so they’re safely tucked away.

Now I’m anxiously waiting for my Arizona plates to arrive.

Part of me wonders if the universe has one more joke left...if it somehow manages to top the last one.

If so, you can bet you’ll be the first to hear about it.

~ the jessie

As much as I love getting out to explore, there are weekends where the smartest thing you can do is crank the A/C, pour yourself something cold, and settle in.

So if you’re looking for a few ideas to escape the heat this weekend, here’s what’s currently keeping me entertained.

📺 What I’m Watching

The Five-Star Weekend (Peacock)

I’m a huge Elin Hilderbrand fan, so I’d been counting down the days until The Five-Star Weekend premiered.

It was everything I hoped it would be.

One of the things I love most about Elin’s storytelling is how she captures the beautiful messiness of life. This one in particular encompassed female friendships, family dynamics, grief, second chances, and the way we continue to evolve through every season of our lives. Her characters feel real, flawed, and relatable, which is what keeps me coming back to her books.

When the final episode ended, I found myself wishing there was more. That’s always the sign of a great series.

Highly recommend.

Ride or Die (Amazon Prime)

Next up is Ride or Die.

Honestly... pairing Octavia Spencer with Hannah Waddingham was genius.

Their personalities balance each other so perfectly, and it’s just plain fun to watch. If you’re looking for something with humor, action, and two incredibly talented women leading the way, add this one to your list.

Lucky (Apple TV+)

I just started Lucky, and I already have a feeling it’s going to be one of those shows everyone is talking about.

The cast is fantastic, the storyline hooked me immediately, and with three episodes available now (new ones release every Wednesday), I’m looking forward to following along each week.

Ransom Canyon – Season 2 (Netflix)

If you’re looking for something that’s a little more laid back, Ransom Canyon is back for Season 2.

Sometimes you don’t need explosions, murder mysteries, or edge-of-your-seat suspense. Sometimes you just want good characters, beautiful scenery, romance, and a story that’s easy to settle into after a long day.

This one checks all those boxes.

📚 What I’m Reading

Lately, I’ve become completely obsessed with Spotify audiobooks.

I’m not sure why it took me so long to jump on board, but between driving around Phoenix and getting things done around the house, I’m listening constantly now.

🎧 The Romance Revival — Christina Lauren

This is Christina Lauren’s newest release, and I’m loving it so far.

The storyline is unique, but I’m already invested in the two main characters. It’s quickly becoming one of those audiobooks where I find myself sitting in my parking spot at work or in the parking garage at home, because I need to finish the chapter, or hear one more.

📖 Rules for the Summer — Meghan Quinn

On my Kindle, I just started Rules for the Summer.

I’m only a few chapters in, but it already feels like the perfect easy summer read. Lighthearted, fun, and exactly what I want while relaxing by the pool...or, let’s be honest, hiding inside because it’s 110 degrees outside.

📚 Manifest

I’m also working my way through Manifest.

This one’s a little different. It’s less about escaping and more about finding direction.

Life has looked a lot different over the past year, and while I feel like I’m in a really good place, I’m still figuring out what this next chapter looks like. I’m hoping this book helps me gain a little more clarity.

Other Ways to Beat the Heat

Not every weekend has to revolve around Netflix.

A few other ideas if you’re looking for an excuse to stay cool:

• Try an indoor workout or yoga class.

• Go see a movie (bonus points for popcorn).

• Wander through your favorite stores without an agenda.

• Plan your next vacation—you know I fully support this one.

• Curl up with a good book and lose track of time.

• Find a new coffee shop and spend an afternoon reading or journaling.

• Finally organize that storage room or cleanse that closet that’s been tormenting you.

Sometimes slowing down is exactly what we need.

Now I Need Your Recommendations

What are you watching or reading right now that I absolutely need to add to my list?

I’m always looking for my next binge-worthy series, audiobook, beach read, or personal development book, so leave your recommendations in the comments.

Whatever your plans for the weekend, I hope it’s all that you want it to be and you’re able to do something that fills your bucket.

Cheers to the weekend.
~ the jessie

Turns out, it has nothing to do with getting divorced.

A “bedroom divorce,” or what sleep experts often call a “sleep divorce,” is simply when couples intentionally choose to sleep in separate bedrooms while remaining in a happy, committed relationship.

At first, I thought it sounded a little sad.

Then I thought about it.

And honestly?

I kind of love the idea.

If you’ve followed me for any amount of time, you know this past year has been about one thing: questioning everything I thought I knew about relationships.

After divorce, you realize so many of the “rules” you’ve lived by weren’t actually your rules, they were simply what everyone else did.

Sleep in the same bed.

Share one bathroom.

Decorate one bedroom.

Compromise on everything.

But…

What if there was another way?

One of the greatest gifts of living alone has been discovering how much I genuinely enjoy my own space.

Not because I don’t want companionship.

I absolutely do.

I want someone to travel with, laugh with, cook dinner with, binge-watch great shows with, and build a life alongside.

But sleeping?

I’ve realized I really like doing that my way.

Some nights I want my Calm app playing soft piano music.

Other nights I want a sleep story.

Sometimes I want complete silence.

Maybe my future partner wants ESPN on in the background.

Maybe he sleeps with a fan blowing full blast while the room feels like a meat locker.

Maybe I want three pillows.

Maybe he wants one.

Nobody has to compromise.

Nobody has to wear headphones.

Nobody loses the bedtime negotiation.

Then there’s the part nobody really talks about.

As we get older…our bodies simply do different things.

We’re all human.

We snore.

We have hot flashes.

We toss and turn.

Our stomachs have opinions.

We make noises we’d rather pretend don’t exist.

Some mornings begin with more creaks and groans than we’d care to admit.

Wouldn’t it be nice to let all of those perfectly normal bodily functions…function…without worrying about disturbing someone else?

There’s something incredibly freeing about not having to apologize for simply being human.

And then there’s the little stuff.

The shaving remnants on the counter.

The clothes on the floor.

My pile of books.

His pile of…whatever guys pile up.

My skincare products slowly taking over every available surface.

It’s amazing how many little arguments disappear when everyone has their own space.

The more I read about this trend, the more I realized it isn’t actually a new idea.

The Sleep Foundation explains that many couples choose separate bedrooms simply to improve sleep quality when they have different schedules, snoring, restless sleep, or different sleep preferences. Better sleep often means better moods, more patience, and fewer unnecessary arguments.

That made complete sense to me.

Because let’s be honest…

Have you ever met a pleasant person after they’ve slept terribly?

Exactly.

Then my brain went somewhere completely different…

Can we talk about decorating?

Maybe this is the HGTV lover in me, but I actually think separate bedrooms could be so much fun.

I picture mine feeling calm, feminine, and timeless.

Crisp white bedding.

Soft layered neutrals.

A cozy reading chair by the window.

Stacks of books.

Beautiful artwork.

A candle burning.

Fresh flowers.

A tray for my evening tea (or, let’s be honest, a glass of wine or bourbon).

The kind of room that makes you exhale the minute you walk in.

Maybe his room is the complete opposite.

Dark.

Moody.

Rich woods.

Leather chair.

Minimalist.

Maybe vintage records.

Maybe sports memorabilia.

Maybe the kind of room that feels like an upscale boutique hotel.

Honestly…

I’d love both.

Why compromise until neither room feels like either person?

Instead, each room becomes an extension of the person who lives there.

And when one of us wants a sleepover?

It’s like getting to visit the other person’s world for the night.

Tell me that doesn’t keep dating alive just a little longer.

If you’re lucky enough to have a third bedroom, even better.

Now you’ve got a beautiful guest room for family and friends without sacrificing either person’s retreat.

If not?

I’m sure we’d survive rotating guest-room duty.

To me, this isn’t about creating distance.

It’s actually the opposite.

It’s creating enough space that we can continue choosing each other instead of slowly becoming irritated over blankets, alarm clocks, bathroom counters, or who left socks on the floor.

One thing therapy has taught me over the last year is that healthy relationships aren’t built by following someone else’s blueprint.

They’re built by two people deciding what works for them.

Maybe that’s separate finances.

Maybe it’s separate hobbies.

Maybe it’s separate closets.

Maybe…

It’s separate bedrooms.

I used to think intimacy meant falling asleep beside someone every single night.

Now I think intimacy might look a little different.

Respecting each other’s sleep.

Respecting each other’s routines.

Respecting each other’s individuality.

Choosing each other every day, not because tradition says you should, but because you genuinely want to.

Maybe some nights we fall asleep together.

Maybe some nights we don’t.

Maybe I end my evening with a book and a Calm sleep story while he watches the end of the game in his dark, moody retreat.

Then one of us wanders down the hall for a sleepover.

To me…

That doesn’t sound like a bedroom divorce.

It sounds like two adults who have figured out that love isn’t measured by sharing a mattress.

It’s measured by creating a life where both people can thrive.

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Could you see yourself in a relationship with separate bedrooms?

Or is sharing a bed every night non-negotiable?

I have a feeling this conversation is just getting started.

~ the jessie

When I lived in Colorado, anytime life felt overwhelming, or I simply needed a change of scenery, I wanted to head west. There was something about leaving the city behind, breathing in the pine trees, and seeing mountain peaks in every direction that made everything feel a little lighter.

The mountains have always been one of my happy places.

So when my niece asked if I would take her to Canada for her graduation trip so we could do some hiking, my answer came pretty quickly. Absolutely!

Neither of us had been to Banff before, and I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect beyond the beautiful photos I had seen online.

What I didn’t realize was how much this trip would remind me why I’ve always been drawn to the mountains in the first place.

Living in Arizona now has made me appreciate them even more. There’s just something about cool mornings, trees, fresh mountain air, and somewhere I actually want to wear a sweatshirt.

Enter Banff.

It was everything people told me it would be, and somehow even better.

It wasn’t just the turquoise lakes or the postcard-worthy views.

It was the feeling.

The crisp air.

The reminder that sometimes all we really need is to step away from our everyday routine, breathe a little deeper, and let nature do what it does best.

I think I may have found my new annual summer escape.

Here is everything I learned, what I would recommend, what I would skip, and what I would do differently next time.

Getting There

We flew into Calgary, and I was surprised by how easy everything was.

It is an easy flight from Denver (and Phoenix), and the Calgary airport was spotless, organized, and welcoming. It honestly felt a little European.

Everything moved quickly, and the people greeting travelers were genuinely kind.

Before long, we had our rental and were on our way to Banff.

A few things I would recommend:

• Rent a car so you have flexibility.

• Get the rental insurance. Mountain roads, unfamiliar driving, and wildlife make the added peace of mind worth it.

• Rent a vehicle you are comfortable driving.

The drive from Calgary to Banff immediately sets the tone for the trip.

The roads were clean, traffic was light, and the scenery became more beautiful with every mile.

The mountains slowly get bigger in front of you until they seem to take over the entire horizon.

It feels like vacation almost immediately.

A Quick Note on Cost

Banff is not an inexpensive destination.

Hotels, restaurants, tours, and activities can definitely add up, especially during the busy summer season. One thing that helped keep our costs down was traveling on “off days”, arriving and departing midweek instead of over the weekend.

We found a great hotel through Hotels.com at a surprisingly reasonable price, and if you’re looking to stretch your budget even further, consider staying in neighboring towns like Canmore. It’s just a short drive from Banff and often offers more affordable accommodations.

For us, keeping the trip to a few well-planned days and traveling midweek gave us the best balance of cost, convenience, and experience.

That said, if you are traveling from the United States, the currency exchange can help soften the overall cost of the trip. Prices may initially seem high when you see them listed in Canadian dollars, but the final U.S. dollar amount is often less than you expect.

It was a pleasant surprise when I reviewed my credit card charges.

I recommend using a credit card with no foreign transaction fees and selecting Canadian dollars when a merchant asks whether you want to pay in Canadian or U.S. currency.

Let your credit card company handle the conversion rather than accepting the merchant’s exchange rate.

Before You Go

A little preparation makes a big difference.

First, watch the weather closely and pack accordingly.

Banff weather can change throughout the day, so layers are essential. You may start the morning in a jacket, warm up during a hike, and need another layer again by dinner.

Reserve dinners through OpenTable before you arrive, especially if there are restaurants you really want to try. You can always cancel if your plans change, but be sure to review each restaurant’s cancellation policy.

You should also book tours well in advance, particularly Lake Louise and Moraine Lake. These areas are extremely popular, and transportation and parking are limited.

Finally, check whether any festivals, sporting events, or other major activities are happening during your trip.

We were there during the soccer games, and many bars and restaurants were packed. Had we known just how busy they would be, we would have reserved a table in advance.

Day One: Check In and Get Your Bearings

We kept our first day simple.

After checking into the hotel, we walked around town, explored Banff Avenue, looked through shops, and figured out where everything was.

I love having a slower first day when I travel. It gives me a chance to settle in before packing the schedule with activities.

Dinner was at Farm & Fire.
The trout was excellent, and the Aperol Spritz tasted exactly like vacation.
The asparagus was just okay.
Next time, I would probably order one of their pizzas with a fresh salad instead.

After dinner, we walked downtown and stopped at Elk & Oars for a drink.
The entrance can be easy to miss, but once you head upstairs, there is a main-floor bar and a rooftop patio. The rooftop is a great option when the weather is nice, and it quickly became one of our favorite casual spots in town.

Day Two: Johnston Canyon and Canmore

We started the morning at Wild Flour Bakery.
It was fine, but I think they are more known for baked goods than breakfast.
The egg options were limited, and ours came with a unique tomato spread that had quite a bit of onion in it. I would go back for coffee and pastries, but probably not for a full breakfast.

The main event of the day was Johnston Canyon.
My biggest advice is to arrive early. And by early, I mean well before 8:00 a.m.
We drove directly to the parking lot near the trail, but parking fills quickly.

There are several distance options at Johnston Canyon:

• Lower Falls

• Upper Falls

• The Ink Pots, if you want to continue farther

One of my favorite photo tips came from going just a little beyond the Lower Falls bridge. Walk slightly uphill and look to the right. There is a small ledge where you can get a beautiful photo of the falls without standing on the bridge with everyone else trying to capture the same picture.

After hiking, we drove to Canmore for lunch at The Patty Shack.
The burgers were so good, and they had beer on tap.
It was exactly the kind of meal we wanted after a morning of hiking.

Dinner that evening was at Park Distillery.
The atmosphere was fun, the drinks were great, and the food was good too.
I would definitely recommend adding it to your list.

Day Three: Lake Louise, Moraine Lake, and the Gondola/Sky Bistro

We started the day at Analog Coffee.
It was a short walk from our hotel and not quite as far as downtown.
The breakfast sandwiches and coffee were both great, and it became our preferred breakfast spot.

We booked a tour through Tripadvisor, and I would highly recommend taking a tour rather than trying to drive yourself. Parking is difficult, access is limited, and letting someone else handle the transportation made the day much easier.

The stops at each lake were fairly short, so be ready when you arrive.

Bring your phone, camera, portable charger, and selfie stick.J
Also, think about what you want to wear that day.
The photo opportunities are incredible, and these are likely to be some of your favorite pictures from the trip.

After the tour, we had lunch at Three Bears Brewery in downtown Banff.
The atmosphere was great, and we tried the elk pizza. It was amazing.
I was unsure about it at first, but I would order it again without hesitation.

That evening, we rode the Banff Gondola to the top of the mountain and had dinner at Sky Bistro. The gondola is steep, so if you are afraid of heights, be prepared.
The views from the top are incredible.
Sky Bistro was nice, but if I did it again, I might ride the gondola for the experience and then return to town for dinner. That said, we had the most pleasant waitress, and she really made the evening for us.

Sometimes it is the people you meet while traveling who turn a nice experience into a memorable one.

Day Four: The Icefields Parkway

We started the day with breakfast at El Toro. I would skip it.
It was not good, and we ended up wishing we had simply returned to Analog Coffee for the same breakfast sandwiches we had enjoyed the day before.

From there, we drove the Icefields Parkway.
If you only remember one thing about this day, let it be this:
Leave early. Bring water. Pack snacks or lunch. Give yourself plenty of time.

The Icefields Parkway is not a drive you want to rush.

Our first stop was Peyto Lake.
There is a short uphill hike to the viewpoint. It is not a long distance, but parking is limited, so another reason to start early.
The view is completely worth it.

Our next stop was Bow Lake.
We pulled over along the highway and hiked down to the water.
The walk was short, but parts were a little slippery, so I was glad we had hiking boots.

Our third stop was Herbert Lake, which ended up being one of my favorite discoveries of the trip. It felt quiet and hidden compared with some of the more popular stops. People were canoeing, paddleboarding, relaxing near the water, and soaking up the sun.

Next time, I would love to bring or rent a canoe and spend more time there.

We had a late lunch / early dinner at The Boss back in Banff.
The atmosphere was cool, but the wait was long and it was expensive.
They do offer Happy Hour if you arrive early enough.
I would probably try it again because the other food coming out looked good, and several of the servers were very nice.

Afterward, we returned to the hotel, changed, walked around town, and did some shopping.

We later watched the U.S. and Belgium soccer game at Elk & Oars.
It was packed and full of energy, with a younger crowd and a fun atmosphere.

Banff Avenue Brewing Company also had the game on and seemed to draw a more diverse crowd.

For a major sporting event, I would call ahead and ask about reserving a table. We tried to get into several places after the game had already started, and most were completely full.

We ended the night with one last drink at Dusty Boot, a fun country bar that had live music while we were there.

It was a great way to close out the trip.

General Banff Tips

When it comes to shopping, look around before you buy anything.
There are a lot of great shops, and many carry similar souvenirs, hats, sweatshirts, and outdoor gear. It is worth comparing before making your purchases.

If you forget something, Banff has stores like Columbia, lululemon, Patagonia, and The North Face, so you can easily replace outdoor essentials.

Bring real hiking socks.
Regular socks do not offer the same support or cushioning, especially when you are walking and hiking for several hours.

Wear hiking boots or trail shoes on exploration days.

Tennis shoes may be fine for walking through town, but they do not always provide the grip or support you need to reach the best viewpoints and photo spots.

I would also bring more than one baseball hat, or bring one and buy one. They are helpful for the sun, light rain, and those mornings when you do not want to deal with your hair.

A Fun and Unexpected Souvenir

If you have ever considered getting a travel tattoo, Steel & Ink is worth checking out. Carly was great.

You will likely need an appointment, so try to schedule ahead of time rather than waiting until you arrive.

A small tree, mountain, or another symbol from the trip could be such a meaningful souvenir.

What I Would Keep in My Daypack

Every day, I would carry a small backpack with:

• Lightweight rain jacket

• Sunscreen

• Bug spray

• Sunglasses

• Lip balm

• Water

• Portable phone charger

• Phone

• Camera

• Selfie stick

• Small pouch for wallet, keys, and smaller essentials

• Protein bar or snack

What I Would Do Differently Next Time

I would stay closer to the center of town, ideally at a hotel with a good coffee shop attached or nearby.

I would rent a small SUV rather than a pickup.

I would go on hikes that we didn’t go on for this first trip, especially some of the longer trails we did not have time to explore.

The popular ice cream shop would be a requirement.

I would spend more time at Herbert Lake, ideally with a canoe or paddleboard.

And I would seriously consider turning it into a Calgary Stampede and Banff combination trip.

My Banff Packing Strategy

The key to packing for Banff is layers.

You want pieces that can work for hiking, walking through town, casual dinners, and changing temperatures.

Core Clothing Capsule

Top Options

• White relaxed T-shirt

• Two black or neutral tanks

• Long-sleeve performance top

• White button-down shirt

• Fun dinner top

• Flannel button-down

• Cardigan

Layers

• Cardigan sweater

• Jean jacket

• Black Patagonia or similar zip-up jacket

• Packable rain jacket

Bottoms

• Two pairs of black leggings

• Two pairs of jeans

• Optional shorts

• Sweatpants or lounge pants for the hotel

• Vuori wide leg pants or similar travel pants

Undergarments

• Five to seven pairs of underwear

• Two or three bras, including a sports bra

• Four or five pairs of socks, including hiking socks

Shoes

Keep it to two pairs if possible:

• Comfortable dress sneakers for the plane, town, and dinners

• Hiking boots or trail shoes

I would skip heels and flip-flops unless you know your hotel has a pool or spa you plan to use.

Accessories

• Sunglasses

• Baseball hat(s)

• Small crossbody bag

• Lightweight scarf, if desired

• Minimal jewelry

Activity and Daypack Items

• Small backpack

• Reusable water bottle

• Protein bars or snacks

• Portable charger

• Camera

• Tripod or selfie stick

• Swimsuit for hot springs or a spa

• Cards or another small game for the hotel

We packed swimsuits but never ended up using them.

Toiletries: the usuals, but don’t forget:

• High-SPF sunscreen

• Travel size bug spray - for the ice fields day

• Lip balm

• Hairbrush

• Hair ties and clips

• Deodorant

The mountain air is dry, so moisturizer and lip balm are not optional.

Travel Essentials

• Passport

• Driver’s license

• Credit cards

• Mobile boarding passes

• Backup copies of important travel information

• Extra charger

• Take photos of everything and then move photos into a “note” if you have an iPhone - keeps all travel items easily accessible and available if no service

Final Thoughts

The funny thing is, I thought I was taking my niece on a graduation trip.

And I was.

But somewhere between Johnston Canyon, Lake Louise, Herbert Lake, and those quiet mountain mornings, I found something I did not realize I needed too.

A reminder that the mountains still feel like home.

Colorado first taught me that.

Banff reminded me of it.

This trip was about celebrating my niece, spending time together, hiking, exploring a new country, and creating memories she can carry into her next chapter.

But it also reminded me how important it is to return to the places and experiences that make us feel grounded.

Banff was not just beautiful.
It felt peaceful.

It was the kind of place where mornings begin a little slower, your phone stays in your pocket a little longer, and fresh mountain air makes everything feel lighter.

Living in Arizona has made me appreciate that feeling in an entirely new way.

Escaping the triple-digit heat for crisp mornings, mountain hikes, and evenings where you actually want to put on a jacket felt like pressing a reset button.

This trip reminded me that the best souvenir is not always something you bring home in a shopping bag.

Sometimes it is remembering what fresh mountain air feels like.
Sometimes it is slowing down long enough to notice it.
Sometimes it is sharing an experience with someone you love.

And sometimes it is leaving with a promise to yourself that you will come back.

I have a feeling Banff may become my annual summer tradition: escaping the desert heat for a week in the mountains, breathing a little deeper, slowing down a little more, and returning home feeling more like myself again.

If you have any trip questions, reach out - I love talking travel tips!!

~ the jessie

I took a break, checked my personal email to see if someone had responded, and there it was, a Shutterfly email with the headline “10 years ago today”.

I opened it without thinking, and suddenly there they were, our wedding photos.

There I was, smiling in a white dress, surrounded by family and friends, celebrating what I believed would be a lifetime together.

For a moment, I just stared.

Not because I wished I could go back. I don’t.

Not because I miss him. I don’t.

What surprised me wasn’t the photos.

It was realizing that if Shutterfly hadn’t reminded me, I never would have known what day it was.

Our wedding anniversary had become...just another Friday.

That felt strange.

For years, anniversaries meant something. They were dates you planned around, celebrated, remembered.

And now?

Nothing.

No sadness.

No excitement.

No dread.

Just...a date.

I sat with that feeling for a while because I wasn’t sure what it meant.

Was I forgetting?

Was I avoiding?

Or was I finally healing?

I think it’s the last one.

Healing isn’t always dramatic.

Sometimes healing is so quiet you don’t even notice it’s happening until one day a date that used to carry so much weight simply doesn’t anymore.

The memories are still there.

I remember that day.

I remember how hopeful I was.

I remember believing every promise I made.

And I don’t regret that version of me.

She loved wholeheartedly.

She showed up with honesty and commitment.

She deserved the same in return.

Looking at those pictures today, I don’t feel embarrassed for her.

I feel compassion for her.

She didn’t know what was ahead.

I do.

And somehow, that makes me appreciate her even more.

In one month, it’ll be one year since my divorce became final.

I imagine that date will carry more emotion than this one did.

Not because I’ll be mourning the end of my marriage.

But because I’ll be celebrating everything it took to survive it.

Today isn’t about celebrating a wedding.

It’s about recognizing something I never expected:

That a date which once felt so important can eventually become just another page on the calendar.

Maybe that’s one of the quiet gifts of healing.

Not that you forget.

But that the memories slowly lose the power to define your present.

If you’re wondering whether you’ll ever get there, I hope this gives you hope.

One day you’ll wake up, go about your morning, and realize the anniversary passed because you’re too busy living your life to count the years anymore.

And when that day comes, you’ll know you’ve been healing all along.

~ the jessie

By adventure, I mean discovering that apparently you can get speeding tickets mailed directly to your house!!

No flashing lights.
No awkward conversation with a police officer.
Just a surprise envelope showing up like, “Remember that Tuesday 2 weeks ago when you were driving a little too enthusiastically? We do.”

Welcome to Scottsdale.

I’m also learning that my Colorado wardrobe is wildly inadequate for desert life.

My closet is currently full of things that seemed perfectly reasonable when I packed them. Structured “wool” blazers. Cute jackets. Sweaters.

What was I thinking?

Arizona has quickly taught me that my future wardrobe needs to consist primarily of light, airy, sweat-wicking fabrics that allow me to look somewhat put together while simultaneously surviving temperatures that feel suspiciously close to the surface of the sun.

Every day seems to bring a new lesson.

But what I’ve been most surprised by is how much Arizona reminds me of Mexico.

Specifically Cabo.

Cabo has been one of my happy places for the last 4+ years.

My ex-husband and I were fortunate enough to spend a lot of time there. Some of my happiest memories are “learning” Mexico - how to drive, favorite restaurants, meeting new friends, slowly learning the language…and all the margaritas!

The feeling that life could slow down for a little while.

Unfortunately, Cabo also became the place where I learned about his affair.
It’s strange how places can hold both joy and heartbreak at the same time.

Even now, when I visit, I feel both. The happiness is still there. The hurt is too.

I’ve spent a lot of time wondering how to separate the two.
How to reclaim a place that once felt entirely mine.

And maybe Arizona is teaching me something about that.

Because there are moments here that instantly transport me back to Mexico—not to the betrayal, but to the things I genuinely loved about it.

The architecture.
The colors.
The slower pace.
The warmth.
The people.

This week, I decided to try a new yoga studio.

One of the challenges of moving somewhere new is that you have to rebuild everything.

You have to find your doctor.
Your nail place.
Your hair person.
Your grocery store.
Your gym.
Your yoga studio.
Your favorite coffee shop.

You have to create an entirely new map of your life.

So I walked into this yoga studio the other morning.
And immediately something felt familiar.
The scent reminded me of Mexico.
If you’ve ever spent time there, you know exactly what I’m talking about.
Fabuloso!

The unofficial fragrance of clean floors and happy memories.

The studio itself was a little rustic. Not overly polished. Not trying too hard. The kind of place that feels authentic.

The instructor welcomed me like I belonged there.

The class was incredible.

And for sixty minutes, I forgot I was the new girl.
I forgot I was still figuring everything out.
I forgot that I was trying to rebuild an entire life in a new state.

I simply felt at home.

As I walked back to my car, sweaty and smiling, I had one of those moments that felt small on the surface but significant underneath.

I think I found my place.

Not just a yoga studio.

A piece of home.

One more pin on the map of this new life.

I’ve realized lately that healing doesn’t always arrive through grand breakthroughs.

Sometimes it arrives through a familiar scent.
A welcoming smile.
A great yoga class.
A coffee shop.

Those little moments don’t seem like much.

But they slowly transform a city into your city, your home.

A neighborhood into your neighborhood.

A life you’re building into a life that feels like yours.

Arizona is still new.

I’m still learning.
Still collecting speeding tickets, apparently.
Still replacing half my wardrobe.
Still figuring out where everything is.

But little by little, it’s starting to feel less like a place I moved to and more like a place I belong.

And right now, that feels like a pretty big win and I’ll take it!

To small wins, whatever they might look like for you. Cheers!

~ the jessie

And honestly? I think it’s one of the most underrated forms of self-care there is.

There’s something comforting about disappearing into a dark theater for two hours with a giant Diet Coke, overpriced popcorn, and absolutely nowhere else to be. No notifications. No responsibilities. No pressure to talk. Just a story, a comfy seat, and a little escape from your own mind for a while.

As I’m settling into Arizona and finding my rhythm in this new chapter of life, I realized this past weekend that one of the first things making Scottsdale feel like mine…is finding my movie theater.

Which probably sounds ridiculous to some people.

But when you move somewhere new—especially after a major life change—the simplest comforts become anchors. A favorite coffee shop. Your go-to grocery store. A walking route. The Target you know by heart. And apparently for me…a movie theater.

Because when it’s pushing 100 degrees outside, wandering around all afternoon loses a little of its charm. But a freezing cold theater? Perfect.

There’s something healing about sitting in a room full of strangers, all collectively escaping life for a bit. Nobody cares if you came alone. Nobody’s judging you for buying snacks for one. In fact, I’m convinced solo movie people are some of the happiest people alive.

We know how to enjoy our own company.

And maybe that’s part of what this season of life is teaching me.

For so many years—in marriage, motherhood, and career—I was conditioned to do what was expected, to prioritize what everyone else wanted. Somewhere along the way, I think I lost (or forgot) some of the little things that make me happy.

But lately, some of my most peaceful moments have happened completely alone.

A quiet morning coffee.
A walk with Winnie in my new neighborhood.
A yoga class where nobody knows my story.
And now…movies by myself.

There’s a freedom in not needing permission, coordination, or company to enjoy your life.

You just go.

I think rebuilding yourself after heartbreak, divorce, change, or a move is really just a series of tiny moments where you slowly start choosing yourself again. Little by little. Routine by routine.

And maybe for me, one of those new happy places looks like reclining seats, movie trailers, and sneaking peanut M&Ms in through my purse.

Not every part of healing has to be deep.

Sometimes healing is simply finding joy again in ordinary things.

And this weekend, in my new city, with the Arizona heat wrapping around everything outside, my simple little joy was sitting in a cold movie theater…feeling just a little more at home than I did yesterday.

~ the jessie

And I don’t think we talk enough about the weird emotional space stepmoms live in on days like today.

Because if you’re a stepmom, there’s this silent internal battle:
Do you deserve acknowledgment?
Should you expect it?
Are you “really” a mom if you didn’t biologically give birth to the child?

You spend years showing up anyway.

You help(ed) raise someone else’s child.
You attend all the school events.
Help with homework.
Buy Christmas presents.
Plan birthdays.
Navigate teenage moods.
Give advice.
Stay up worrying.
Love them through heartbreaks and hard phases.

You pour your love, time, energy, patience, and emotional labor into a child you didn’t create…while simultaneously wondering if you’re allowed to claim any space in the motherhood conversation at all.

And then divorce enters the picture.

Now the family structure that once made your role “valid” disappears overnight.

No husband.
No home together.
No shared traditions.
No automatic acknowledgment from the man whose child you helped raise.

Just…silence.

And honestly? That part hurts more than I expected.

But, I’m one of the lucky ones.
I heard from my stepdaughter today, and that meant more to me than she probably realizes.

But my heart also hurts for the women who didn’t hear from anyone today.

The women who gave years of their lives to helping raise children who are no longer “theirs” after divorce papers are signed.

Women left sitting in quiet apartments wondering:
Did any of it matter?
Was I important?
Do I even count?

And the answer is yes.
You absolutely fucking count.

Love counts.

Showing up counts.

Sacrifice counts.

The emotional labor of helping raise a child — especially one you didn’t biologically have to raise — counts.

Maybe society doesn’t quite know where to place stepmoms.
Maybe Hallmark hasn’t figured out the card aisle for us yet.
Maybe the world still struggles to define motherhood outside biology.

But I know this:
Women like us loved anyway.

And that matters.

So today, instead of sitting in sadness waiting for acknowledgment that may or may not come, I decided to do something different.

I bought myself a Mother’s Day gift.
And then I took myself out for a fancy meal.

Because honestly?
There are no rules in this game of life.

Who decided women have to sit around waiting for someone else to celebrate them?

Not me.

So here’s your reminder today:
Buy the flowers.
Buy the bag.
Order the expensive glass of wine.
Take yourself to brunch.
Celebrate the woman you are.

Because if life has taught me anything lately, it’s this:
We do not need permission to honor ourselves.

And to the women out there navigating Mother’s Day with complicated emotions — stepmoms, women without children, divorced women, grieving women, women estranged from family, women wondering where they fit today — I see you.

You are not invisible.

And yes…fuck him.
We can buy our own gifts.

~ the jessie

What I did know, was that all I wanted to do was lay down.
To feel all the feels and have something to hold me.
To cry.
To disappear into a blanket.
To maybe binge a movie I wouldn’t even pay attention to.

And if I’m being honest, to drink something comforting.

A mimosa.
A sauv blanc.

Something that felt like Carrie.

But I don’t have a fucking sofa.

I have a mattress on the floor.

My environment wasn’t set up for “sad.”

So what did I do?

I unloaded my car.
I started unpacking.

Because when life doesn’t give you a place to fall apart…sometimes you just keep moving.

And in a strange way, it helped.
It distracted me just enough to get through the first wave.

I already had dinner plans with a girlfriend who was in town.

So I got ready.
Showed up early.
Ordered a glass of wine.

We had dinner.
We caught up.

And on the outside, it probably looked normal.

But I wasn’t really there.

The wine didn’t help.

It actually did the opposite.

It took everything I had carefully pushed down throughout the day…
and brought it right back up to the surface.

And then came the text.

From my ex-husband.

It was thoughtful.
Kind.
Simple condolences.

And for whatever reason…
that was the thing that broke me.

Not the first text.
Not the second.
Not the moment I found out.

That one.

I’ve been trying to understand why.

And I think it’s this—

He used to be my person.

The one I would have called immediately.
The one who would have sat with me in it.
Talked me through it.
Held me through it.

And in that moment, his message…
as kind as it was…

was also a reminder that he isn’t that anymore.

He chose someone else.

So instead of falling apart with him…

I fell into something else.

My people.

Our group chat…Rachel, Beth, Elyse, Kelly…

It hasn’t stopped.

We’re checking on each other.
Sharing memories.
Saying the things that don’t make sense out loud.
Being honest about how hard this actually is.

Leaning on each other in real time.

And right now…
that’s what’s holding me up.

And then there’s Darren.

Carrie’s husband.

I find myself checking on him too—
quietly, from a distance.

Because I’m a helper.

I organize.
I show up.
I do.

So there’s a part of me just…waiting.

For my next assignment.

For a way to help carry even a fraction of what he/they are going through.

The other thing that got me through yesterday?

Pictures.

I created a folder on my phone.

I named it “carebear”, my nickname for her, since we were young.

Because that’s who she was.

Soft. Loving. Steady. Safe.

And I went through that folder…
three, maybe four times.

Every version of us.

Bad hair.
High school.
North Dakota roots.

Colorado life—
Palomino Park, our own version of Melrose Place.
Beer kickball.
Sex and the City.
So much food and wine.

Our people.

Two distinct worlds that somehow became one life—
our ND friends and our CO friends.

And Carrie, right in the center of all of it.

That’s the version of her I want to hold onto.

But now we’re here.

And the question becomes—

what’s next?

for the ones who loved her most

There are no perfect words for Darren.
For her son, Sam. For her mom and dad.
For the family who just spent five+ months loving her through the hardest chapter.

When caregiving ends, grief doesn’t just begin—
it collides with exhaustion.

Psychologist David Kessler, who worked closely with Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, says:

“Grief is not a problem to be solved, but a process to be witnessed.”

So what do we do?

We don’t try to fix it.
We don’t try to find the right words.

We stay.

We check in—again and again, long after everyone else stops.
We offer specific help: meals, errands, sitting in silence.
We remember her out loud.
We say her name.

And most importantly—

We let them grieve however it shows up.

for the friends who don’t know how to help

If you’re like me, you want to do something.

Here’s what actually matters:

• Don’t say “let me know if you need anything”—offer something specific

• Keep showing up after the first week

• Send the memory texts

• Be okay with not getting a response

• Sit in the uncomfortable silence if needed

Therapist and author Megan Devine (author of It’s OK That You’re Not OK) says:

“Some things cannot be fixed. They can only be carried.”

So we carry it—together.

for anyone walking through grief right now

There is no “right way” to do this.

Some days you’ll function.
Some days you’ll fall apart over a text message.

Both are normal.

Both are grief.

resources that might help (when you’re ready)

Books

• It’s OK That You’re Not OK – Megan Devine

• Finding Meaning – David Kessler

• The Year of Magical Thinking – Joan Didion

Podcasts

• Terrible, Thanks for Asking – honest conversations about grief

• Unlocking Us – episodes on grief + vulnerability

Articles

• Refuge in Grief – real, honest grief support

• What’s Your Grief – practical guidance for loss

where I am today

Still no fucking sofa.

Still unpacking a life that feels completely different than it did a week ago.

Still crying at unexpected moments.

Still reading texts from my people.

Still scrolling through my “carebear” folder, and now searching for pictures I missed to continue to grow that folder, as I know I’m missing memories that I need to remember, to re-live.

35+ years of friendship.

She loved me through every imperfect version of myself.

And I loved her the same way.

I don’t know what the next few weeks will look like.

But I do know this—

We will get through it the same way we always have.

Together.

~ the jessie

Not dramatically.
Not in a way anyone can easily call out.
But slowly…quietly…we begin to shut down.

I didn’t recognize it at first when my marriage was falling apart.

I just thought I was tired. Overwhelmed.

But looking back now, I see it clearly.

I was spiraling, down, away from who I was.

I started canceling plans with friends, first occasionally, then almost entirely.
I’d tell myself I just needed a night in, but those nights turned into weeks.

I’d sit in my sadness with a glass of wine and my phone, mindlessly shopping.
Click, add to cart, checkout.
A temporary distraction. A quick dopamine hit.
A way to feel something other than what I was actually feeling.

I stopped going to the gym. Stopped moving my body.
Stopped doing the things that once made me feel like…me.

And without even realizing it, I put my life on pause.

Not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t know how to cope.

What Shutdown Actually Looks Like

We tend to think of “struggling” as something obvious.

But more often, it looks like this:

• Withdrawing from friends and plans

• Numbing out (shopping, scrolling, drinking, binge-watching)

• Losing interest in things that once brought joy

• Isolating, even when you’re not physically alone

• Functioning on the outside, falling apart on the inside

As Brené Brown says:

“We numb because we care.”

That one hit me.

Because I wasn’t checked out, I was overwhelmed.

If This Is You Right Now

First, just know this:

You’re not broken.
You’re coping the only way you know how.

But some coping mechanisms don’t actually carry us through…they just keep us stuck.

The shift isn’t about becoming perfect.
It’s about becoming aware.

Here are a few healthier ways to move through, not just numb out:

1. Move Your Body (Even When You Don’t Want To)

Not for weight. Not for appearance.
But because movement changes your chemistry.
Even a 10-minute walk can interrupt the spiral, especially if you’re listening to a podcast or music that is supporting you in that moment.

2. Replace Numbing with Feeling (in Small Doses)

Instead of scrolling for hours, try:

• Journaling for 5 minutes

• Sitting outside without your phone, maybe with some music that calms you

• Letting yourself cry without distraction

It’s uncomfortable, but it’s where healing starts.

3. Create One Non-Negotiable

When everything feels out of control, pick one thing that anchors your day:

• Morning coffee on the patio

• A workout class

• Calling a friend

One small commitment can rebuild trust with yourself.

4. Talk to Someone (Before You Feel “Ready”)

Whether it’s a friend, therapist, or even a voice note you don’t send, get it out of your head and off your shoulders.

As Nedra Glover Tawwab puts it:

“Your feelings are valid, but they are not always your best guide.”

How to Recognize This in a Friend

Sometimes the people we love don’t say they’re struggling.

But you can feel it.

They’re quieter.
Harder to pin down.
Canceling plans more than usual.
Responding…but not really engaging.

Trust that instinct.

Because often, what looks like distance is actually someone drowning quietly.

What to Do If You Sense Something Is Off

You don’t need the perfect words.
You just need to show up.

Here’s what that can look like:

Say Something Simple

“Hey, you’ve been on my mind lately. How are you really doing?”

Not surface-level.
Not “how are you?” in passing.
Pause long enough for a real answer.

Remove the Pressure

Instead of: “Let me know if you need anything”
Try: “I’m bringing you coffee tomorrow morning, no need to host me.”

People who are struggling often don’t have the energy to ask for help.

Stay Consistent

One check-in is kind.
Consistent presence is powerful.

Even a simple text:
“I’m still here. No pressure to respond.”

Don’t Try to Fix It

You don’t need to solve their life.
Just sit with them in it.

As Esther Perel says:

“The quality of our relationships determines the quality of our lives.”

And sometimes the highest-quality thing you can offer is your presence.

Resources That Help You Feel Less Alone

When you’re in it, it’s easy to believe you’re the only one.

You’re not.

Here are a few powerful reads:

• Atlas of the Heart: helps you name what you’re feeling (which is half the battle)

• Set Boundaries, Find Peace: especially helpful if your shutdown is tied to emotional overwhelm

• The Body Keeps the Score: understanding how trauma lives in the body

• Maybe You Should Talk to Someone: raw, real, and incredibly human

And if therapy feels like a step you’re not ready for yet, platforms like BetterHelp or Talkspace can make it more accessible.

The Part I Wish I Knew Sooner

Shutting down feels like protection.
Like you’re keeping yourself safe from more hurt.

But over time…it also keeps you from healing, and the life you love.
The version of you that feels alive, connected, grounded?

She’s still there.
She’s just waiting for you to come back.

Final Thought

If you’re in this space right now, surviving, numbing, withdrawing…

Start small.

Text one friend.
Take one walk.
Cancel one less plan.

But also…pause long enough to ask yourself:

• Is this situation asking me to grow…or is it slowly erasing me?

• Am I fighting for something meaningful, or just fighting to be chosen?

• If nothing changed, would I be okay living like this a year from now?

• Is this pain temporary and purposeful…or repetitive and draining?

• Am I abandoning myself to hold onto something, or someone, else?

• Would the strongest, most grounded version of me accept this?

Because here’s the truth we don’t talk about enough:
Not everything that hurts is worth your time.
Not everything that’s hard is meant for you to carry forever.

And at some point…you have to decide:

Is this worth losing myself over?

Or is it time to reclaim my life?

Your energy.
Your joy.
Your routines.
Your people.
Your peace.

You get to dictate the direction your life goes.
Even after the spiral.
Even after the shutdown.

Especially then.

And if you’re the friend watching someone you love fade a little…

Reach out.

Don’t overthink it.
Don’t wait for the “right moment.”

Just show up.

Because sometimes the thing that pulls someone out of their shutdown…isn’t advice.

It’s presence.
It’s consistency.
It’s love.

And sometimes…
it’s the reminder that they still have the power to choose themselves again.

~ the jessie

ie

There’s something about death, or the anticipation of it, that has a way of pulling people back together.

Not in a loud, obvious way.

But in texts that turn into phone calls.

In “we should get together soon” finally becoming “what time can you be here?”

In hugs that last just a little longer than usual.

It’s a strange, almost hidden blessing in the middle of something unbearably heavy.

Right now, one of my closest friends is in hospice.

And I can honestly say… this is one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through.

There’s no way to prepare for it.

No way to make it make sense.

It’s just…heartbreaking.

But in the middle of all of that sadness, something else is happening too.

Our friend group, the one that life slowly scattered over the years, is coming back together.

And I know we’re going to need each other.

Carrie has been my friend since elementary school.

She’s not just a friend, she’s history. She’s roots.

When my job transferred me to Colorado, she had just graduated from college. I asked her, half seriously, “Do you want to come with me?”

And she said yes.

So we loaded her mattress onto my moving truck, and just like that, we drove from North Dakota to Colorado, two girls (and my mom) with no real plan, just trust and a whole lot of life ahead of us.

That was 25 years ago.

We moved into Palomino Park…which, if you know, you know, basically Melrose Place for young adults.

And that’s where our Colorado story begins.

That’s where we met our Colorado friend group, the group that has been our foundation for over 20 years.

Beer kickball.

Endless nights of Sex and the City.

So. much. wine.

Then eventually…all the kids.

A whole lifetime lived inside those years.

So many memories that now feel even more sacred.

Because that’s the Carrie we all know and love.

She met her husband.

I met my now ex-husband.

We built lives here.

There were seasons where we were inseparable…

and other seasons where life got busy, husbands, kids, careers, where catching up looked more like a quick call or the occasional get-together.

But one thing never changed:

We loved each other.

Carrie has the biggest heart of anyone I know.

She loves her family fiercely, the kind of love that shows up in every small detail.

She has the tiniest, most perfect handwriting you’ve ever seen.

Total type A. Organized. Thoughtful. Intentional.

In high school, she was always the designated driver.

And as adults? Let’s just say… the rest of us could outdrink her without even trying.

She loved the simple things.

Starbucks was her treat.

And even then, she rarely splurged on herself.

She gave so much more than she ever took.

And now…here we are.

Sitting in a space that feels unfair and heavy and surreal.

Because sometimes life just isn’t fair.

And this is one of those moments.

But in the middle of it all, I’m holding onto something:

The way we’re showing up for each other again.

The way the group text is alive.

The way we’re circling around her, and each other, with love, support, and shared memories.

Holding onto the stories.

The laughter.

The version of her that lives in all of us from those early days.

Because we’re going to need that.

We’re going to need each other.

And for me…just gratitude.

For 35+ years of friendship.

For a lifetime of memories.

For a friend who loved me through every version of myself, flawed, imperfect, growing, and never wavered.

And I hope she knows…

I’ve loved her the very same way.

Always. 🩶

~ the jessie

That feeling when a dress looks great on the hanger but something about it just doesn’t feel right once it’s on your body.
The anxiety that shows up as tightness in your chest or a constant pit in your stomach.
The sleepless nights where your body is exhausted, but your nervous system refuses to power down.

If something feels off, it probably is.

We spend so much time overriding these signals, telling ourselves to push through, toughen up, be grateful, be productive, be “fine.” But our bodies keep score. And eventually, they speak louder.

Disclosure: I’m not a doctor. I’m also not a pill pusher.
But I am someone who believes deeply that there are seasons in life where you need support just to function, and there is no shame in that.

Major life events create major emotional responses.
Death. Divorce. Job loss. Big transitions. Caregiving. Parenting.
They all take a toll, even if you’re doing your best, even if you look like you’re “handling it.”

I’ve had mild anxiety for as long as I can remember. I feel things deeply. When I’m happy, I’m really happy. And when I’m sad, I’m really sad. If that makes sense.

When our daughter was in high school, life felt especially heavy. I was working full time, trying to manage the household, juggling schedules, emotions, responsibilities, often feeling like I was doing most of it alone.

I’ll give credit where credit is due: my former partner contributed financially in meaningful ways. But looking back, I realize that what I really wanted, and NEEDED, was a partner. Someone to help shoulder the emotional and mental load, not just the logistical one.

That season pushed me into a state of complete overwhelm.

And that’s when I made the decision to go on anxiety medication.

Not because I was broken.
Not because I couldn’t “handle life.”
But because I needed help getting back to a version of myself that could breathe again.

It made a tremendous difference.

I still get overwhelmed, because I’m human.
I still feel all the feels, because that’s who I am.
But they’re no longer unmanageable. The highs and lows don’t feel quite as dramatic or consuming. I can pause, regulate, respond instead of react.

And that’s the point.

Asking for help doesn’t mean you’ve failed.
It means you’re listening.

Your body is constantly communicating with you, through anxiety, exhaustion, restlessness, tension, sadness, even discomfort in what you wear or how you move through the world.

Your job isn’t to silence it.
Your job is to listen… and then make decisions that support you.

Sometimes that means rest.
Sometimes it means boundaries.
Sometimes it means therapy, medication, or leaning on your medical team for guidance.

And if you’re not sure where to start, start simple.

Talk to your primary care doctor.
Ask friends you trust if they have recommendations.
Look into online therapy platforms like BetterHelp, Talkspace, or Alma, there are more options now than ever before.

Buy a book that resonates with what you’re going through and commit to reading it at a time of day that works for you. Not to rush through it, but to create a routine of connection. With the author. With the message. With the reminder that you are not alone.

Because you’re not.

There are people who have walked through what you’re feeling right now.
And there will be people who walk through it after you.

A few that might resonate depending on your season:

• The Gifts of Imperfection by Brené Brown

• Maybe You Should Talk to Someone by Lori Gottlieb

• You Can Heal Your Life by Louise Hay

• Activate Your Future Self by Mimi Bouchard

• The Let Them Theory by Mel Robbins

There’s no one-size-fits-all answer.
But there is something out there that’s the right fit for you.

For me, it’s a light daily anxiety dose, and reading, reading calms me, always something fun AND something that is self-help.
And when I layer in music and yoga, it creates a sense of calm in the middle of all the crazy.

And honestly?
Wine and girlfriends help too.

If you’ve got someone you trust, talk about it.
Say the things out loud.
Get those heavy feelings off your shoulders.

And if you’re sitting there thinking, I don’t even know who I’d talk to…

Message me.
I’ll listen.

Because sometimes the first step to feeling better…
is simply not carrying it alone.

~ the jessie

In fact, watching Temptation Island while going through a divorce might just be the fastest way to lose all remaining faith in men. And depending on where you are in your healing process, that could either be a blessing or a curse.

The Curse: The Ultimate Trust Destroyer

If you already have trust issues (and let’s be real, divorce tends to come with a few), this show is like pouring gasoline on an already smoldering fire. You’ll watch men who swear up and down that they love their girlfriends, but the moment they’re given “freedom,” they’re making out in hot tubs, whispering sweet nothings to a 22-year-old Pilates instructor, and justifying their behavior with lines like, “This experience is about growth.”

It’s infuriating. It’s cringe-worthy. And if you’re trying to rebuild your sense of hope in relationships, watching men self-destruct their commitments for a little attention might not be the healthiest way to do it. You might start to wonder: Is this what all men do when given the chance?

The Blessing: A Reality Check You Didn’t Know You Needed

On the flip side, if you’re still romanticizing your ex or questioning whether you made the right decision, Temptation Island might serve as a much-needed wake-up call. Watching these men (and yes, some women) prioritize their egos and instant gratification over their relationships can remind you exactly why you deserve better.

If you’re already leaning toward a “men are the worst” phase, this show will push you over the edge. And sometimes, that’s exactly what you need to stop longing for the past and start demanding more for your future.

So… Watch or Avoid?

If you’re feeling fragile and trying to hold onto some belief in love, Temptation Island is a hard no. But if you’re in the burn it all down stage of your divorce, where you’re embracing your independence and done making excuses for bad behavior, then sure—pour yourself a glass of wine, roll your eyes at the nonsense, and enjoy the confirmation that you’re better off.

At the end of the day, Temptation Island is a trashy, over-the-top reminder that you don’t need to settle. The real challenge isn’t resisting temptation, it’s refusing to accept anything less than what you truly deserve.

~ the jessie

Instead, I quickly learned that the dating landscape is a battlefield—one filled with men who only want one thing. The attention, the validation, the chase. And once you hold firm in your worth, once you decide you deserve to be prioritized, respected, and pursued for more than just a fleeting moment, many of them vanish.

I went on my first date since separating. It went well. Really well. I felt the excitement that I hadn’t felt in years—the kind of butterflies I thought were long extinct. We laughed, we talked, we connected. And then I did something radical: I held my boundaries. I didn’t sleep with him. I honored myself. And what did I get in return? Silence. Ghosted.

For a moment, the old wounds surfaced. The self-doubt, the questioning—Was it me? Did I do something wrong? Was I not enough? But no. Not this time. Because I refuse to let a man’s immaturity and inability to communicate make me question my worth.

If there’s one thing my past has taught me, it’s that I won’t waste another second on someone who doesn’t prioritize me. If a man can’t show up for me now—when everything is new, fresh, and at its most exciting—he won’t show up later. And I’m done with that.

So, here’s to putting myself first. To not settling. To refusing to give my time, energy, or heart to anyone who doesn’t value it. The right person will come, and when they do, they’ll show up fully—not just when it’s convenient.

Until then, I’ll be here, building the life I deserve.

~ the jessie