“Please, just look at these numbers. I can’t believe we are in this position—again.”
He hangs his head in shame.
I shake in frustration.
Am I just projecting? Certainly, I’m not perfect, but…
$827 on booze and cigarettes last month? How is that quitting?
We’re treading water. I can see the tsunami coming.
The house line of credit interest rate keeps climbing. My salary isn’t covering it anymore.
And he’s not working - again.
He says nothing.
Eventually, he gets up and tries to ease the tension in my shoulders with his hands.
Always reverting to the physical.
“I’ll do better, I promise.”
I sigh.
“Ok. We got this, right? It will be better.”
But I don’t really believe it.
I want to trust him. I want him to say, “It will be ok.”
But I realize something, sitting there at my computer…
He has never actually said those words.
I have.
But he hasn’t.
So I sit there quietly asking myself something I didn’t yet have the courage to say out loud:
Where is my safe place?
I close the file.
He’s gone upstairs.
I pick up my game and play for a while—numbing the feeling of being alone in a life that, according to the outside world, should have felt full.
My kids were grown.
I loved my house.
I loved my friends.
And I loved my husband.
But something wasn’t right.
We kept circling back to the same place. Over and over again.
Nothing changed.
Except me.
Ten years ago, I was still in that marriage.
At the time, I would have told you:
He cared
We were trying
Things would get better
I believed those things.
I needed to believe those things.
Because the alternative meant admitting something much harder:
That I was holding together something that wasn’t actually holding me.
Here’s what I didn’t understand then:
You can stay in the same life for years…
and slowly become a completely different person inside it.
Not all at once.
Quietly.
Piece by piece.
The things you tolerate change
The things you notice change
The things you can no longer ignore… change
And one day, without any big dramatic moment, you realize:
You are not who you were when this started.
And that matters.
More than most women allow it to.
Because we’ve been taught to:
stay
try harder
be patient
be understanding
keep things together
Especially after 20+ years.
Especially when everything looks “fine” from the outside.
Especially when leaving - or even questioning - feels like blowing up your entire life.
So instead, we adjust.
We shrink.
We tell ourselves:
“It’s not that bad.”
“We’ve been through worse.”
“This is just how relationships are.”
But underneath all of that… something keeps whispering:
This isn’t it anymore.
If you’re reading this and something feels familiar…
not necessarily the details, but the feeling…
I want you to hear this clearly:
You are not behind.
You are not broken.
You are evolving.
And the life you built 10, 20, 30 years ago?
It may not fit the woman you are now.
Not because you failed.
But because you grew.
That realization is uncomfortable.
It can feel like:
grief
confusion
guilt
even a little bit of panic
But it’s also something else.
It’s the beginning of a second wind.
Not a complete life overhaul overnight.
Not a dramatic reinvention.
But a quiet, steady process of:
resetting
reorganizing
and moving forward in a way that actually fits you now
That’s what I’m building here.
A place for women who are somewhere in that in-between space.
Not who they used to be…
but not quite sure what comes next.
If that’s you, you can start here:
A quiet place to begin again.
Subscribe to receive thoughtful letters about rebuilding our lives, slowing down, having fun, gaining confidence and finding a sense of purpose.
If you’re creating your own Second Wind, I’d love to have you here.
No pressure. No big promises. Just one small step forward. Remembering who you were before and who you always wanted to be. Be her, here, now.
This is the first piece in what I’m building here. I am so grateful to each of you who are sharing this journey with me. At times, I have felt alone, but my people are always there for me - defining what love really means.
I believe my purpose in life is to be that person for you. To show you that even in darkness, we can find the light.
the part where she realises she has been saying =it will be ok= for both of them ... thats a lot