Fifteen years ago, as I rode the elevator to Family Court alone for the last day of trial, I felt sick. My soon-to-be ex-husband wasn't the only one waiting in the courtroom. My mom and sister were there too — in support of him. Both had written declarations against me, and my sister, maid of honor at our wedding and our first child’s namesake, testified against me in court the day before. I'd had no contact with either of them for three years, something my husband and I had agreed on at the time. Or so I thought.

My mom was the one who first taught me to make myself small and always put others first. When I suddenly resisted, she couldn’t forgive me. Neither could my sister. Or later, my husband.

In response, he blindsided me with divorce papers and accusations that I was an unfit parent who should lose all custody of our three- and six-year-old daughters, for whom I’d always been primary caregiver. He didn’t want shared custody. He wanted me to leave our home immediately and give up both custody and any decision making authority. He wanted to erase me.

But I would not go quietly, and after 16 months of litigation, we were at the end of a three-day bench trial, where I represented myself against his aggressive and well-resourced attorney.

I tried not to throw up while we waited for the judge's decision. Me by myself and he with both his family and mine.

No matter what happened, I knew I’d done the right thing. I never wanted to fight my husband in court. There were no winners in this war, only survivors, and our kids were the most wounded. But when forced — under the most brutal circumstances — to either surrender everything, or fight for myself and my girls, I knew what I had to do, and it changed me forever.

Not overnight. It’s been a long, hard journey since that day the judge ruled in my favor. But that experience taught me the most important lesson of my life: no one was coming to save me, and I would have to find the courage to become my own hero.

And that was everything, because that’s when I learned who I really was, what I was capable of, and that I could finally trust myself. So years later, after life as a single mom raising two kids in one of the nation’s most expensive cities, facing a global pandemic, the break-up of another long-term relationship, and an empty nest, I was undaunted.

It was my turn.

I started writing, gave up my shitty, overpriced apartment, and went on the road full-time as a traveling house and pet sitter. Since then, I've traveled thousands of miles up and down the West Coast, chasing the sun, and learning everything I can about myself. I've made new friends, explored beautiful places, and reconnected with myself after decades of putting everyone else first.

This year marks the 15th anniversary of that day in court. And I'm celebrating it the way it deserves — by finally doing the work I was always meant to do: helping women who've spent a lifetime being everything to everyone — while abandoning themselves — finally become their own hero.

If any part of this story resonates, I'd love for you to join me on March 21 for the Midlife Reinvention Clinic — a free, live event where we'll write our way toward clarity together. One hour. Just you showing up for yourself. That's the whole assignment.

And if you're ready to talk sooner, my door is open.

Fifteen years later and just getting started,

-Amber 🥰