On New year’s Day, 2024, My husband of 20 years left me, giving me 3 days notice before he went.

It completely blindsided me; I hadn’t seen it coming.

In those very early days, numb with shock, and drowning in grief, I felt like I was barely clinging on. But then, a defiant little spark fired up in me, “I’m going to come out of this more, not less.” – this became my mantra.

This is the story of my journey – setting out as a 55 year old woman, working through the pain, the healing, the discovery of self.

Due to the content, this blog is suitable for adults only. Within the entries there will be references to sexual activity and drug use. This is neither salacious nor gratuitous, so if that’s what you seek I gently suggest you move on elsewhere. Where these topics are discussed it is purely within the context of my own healing and self discovery. I am in no way making recommendations, giving guidance, or promoting lifestyle choices, particularly where such activities are not legal.

I share my experiences as honestly as possible because when others have done so, they’ve unknowingly held and supported me. It would be the best kind of pay it forward if my words could do that for someone, somewhere.

I publish posts exactly one year after they were experienced and written in my diary; publishing in real time felt too raw, my steps too fragile to risk judgemental feedback, negative responses, or any other less-than-nurturing interactions. Twelve months felt like an appropriate duration for private grieving and healing before public sharing.

One last thing, there’s going to be a liberal sprinkling of what my Nanna would have called ‘choice language’. This is frequently gratuitous. If you read, you’ll have to live with it.