“The wound is where the light enters you.” ~rumi
I never imagined I was at the 49 here. It’s about being in a crisis, confused and owning your identity. I met him just before my 16th birthday. He was everything I knew. We built our lives together. The end was 30 years of marriage, raising children, sharing memories, traditions and routines. And one day it all collapsed with five unforgettable words: “I need some space, Heather.”
At first, I thought that was the stage. However, the space became silent, the silence became separate, and soon he had signed his divorce papers. There is no longer a man who I have built a full adult life. And I look in the mirror and who’s not there?
I’m not just saddened about a relationship. I was saddened for myself. My version given everything. A bent, adapted, compromised version for “us.” And under the heartbreak there was a heavy cocktail of responsibility and responsibilities.
I made him blind me, gave up and accused him of not fighting for us. I resented him by having the freedom to leave while I had the crushed fragments of my dreams. But deeper, I blamed myself for not seeing any signs. To ignore subtle shifts. Losing yourself in the process of trying to live out a marriage that had been slow to hold back.
The truth is that our marriage has ended because we are separated. I’ve begun to evolve. He didn’t come with me. And after years of implicit tension, emotional distance and value of inconsistency, we were no longer on the same path. Yet, even that understanding did not facilitate sadness.
For months I was in survival mode. I worked and cared for my responsibility through social events. It is configured on the outside. But inside? I was falling apart. The night was the most difficult. That’s when the question bothered me:
What did I do wrong? Why wasn’t I enough? Will someone ever love me again?
Then one quiet afternoon – nothing particularly special, but I was sitting in my bedroom, surrounded by silence, with sunlight flowing through the windows. I was exhausted from my thoughts. There were no dramatic triggers. It’s just the overwhelming tranquility that finally gave me the space to enter new questions.
What if this isn’t over? What if this is the beginning of going back to your home?
It was a moment when everything changed. I decided that I would no longer be a woman waiting to be rescued. I was going to be a woman who saved myself.
Heartbreak lives inside the body. And I was screaming. Dull pain with no dull pain in the shoulders, restless sleep, chest. I spent a very long separation from my body.
But healing demanded existence. So I started walking my dog every day. I touched my feet on the planet and breathed deeper again. I returned to Pilates to a gentle movement. I swapped out comfortable food for nutrition that made me feel lively. Each small act of care was a message to yourself: you are important. You are worthy of care.
The most toxic place I lived was not my home. It was my own heart. The story was cruel: you failed. You’re too old. You’re fat. You will not be loved. You are always alone.
But I found those thoughts and started asking, would I say this to my daughter or my best friend? Of course it’s not. So why did I tell myself them?
I began journaling affirmations: I am sufficient. I’m soothing. I’m adorable. I’m the whole thing. Slowly, my inner critic softened. I began to rewrite my story – not as a woman who left, but as a woman who rose up
The next chapter was the most magical and most confrontational. When your life revolves around someone else for nearly 30 years, you forget who you are outside. I began to remember.
I thought I love writing.
It reminded me of how soothing it is to dance to the music I worship barefoot.
I remembered my curiosity, my dreams, my longing for meaning.
I meditated and started journaling every morning. Continue on to the Solo Nature Walk. I spoke to my guide, my angels. I cried. I created a sacred space for me alone.
And then slowly… the woman I was in front of him and the woman I was after him began to meet. And they liked each other.
Healing is not a straight line. One day, you feel intense. Other days it’s easily broken. But both are part of the process.
Even now – there’s a great new guy in my life – Grief still visits me from time to time. Milestones like our children’s weddings and the birth of grandchildren sparked old feelings I thought I had already processed. The moment when “what happened” clashes with “what happened.”
But now, instead of meeting that grief with shame or self-judgment, I will greet it with compassion. It’s okay to have joy with one hand and sorrow with the other. That’s how healing really looks.
If you are in the middle of your own broken heart, here’s what I’ve learned might help:
Take care of your body: movement, nourishment, rest. Your nervous system needs it.
Challenge your inner critic: Talk to yourself with the love you gave to others so freely.
Rediscover your true nature: You are more than someone else’s partner. You are soul, fire, power.
Let with Love: Blame will tie you down to the past. Forgiveness will free you.
You are not broken. You are rebuilding. Every tears, every retreat, every breakthrough carves a more shining, clever version of you.
About Heather Prince
Heather Prince is a mental relationship coach who helps women over 40 get healed from a broken heart and regain their self-worth. Her divorce journey promotes her mission to guide others to integrity. Download our free workbooks from Heartbreak to Wholeness at FMF90.com/giftFunnels.
