The Awakening: A Three-Part Becoming”

There are years that grow you, and there are years that open you.
2025 was the year that cracked me open — not gently, not quietly, but honestly.

I didn’t expect a marriage to end.
I didn’t expect grief to become a roommate.
And I definitely didn’t expect my nervous system to become a storyteller before I could find the words.

But life has a way of handing you a mirror and saying,
“This is what you’ve been carrying.
And this is what you can no longer pretend not to see.”

What began as heartbreak slowly became something else…
an awakening I didn’t know I needed.

The Crack Open

The truth didn’t arrive all at once.
It came in whispers: a tight chest here, a sleepless night there, a silence that grew wider by the day.

My body spoke before my mind admitted it.
My nervous system — buzzing like a loose wire — finally whispered,
“We’re not safe like this. Stop pretending.”

For a long time, I thought the ending of a marriage meant I had failed.
But now I understand:

It wasn’t a failure.
It was the beginning of becoming.
The moment God leaned close and said,
“You’re not breaking. You’re awakening.”

Reflection Question:
What truth have you been afraid to look at because you know it will change everything?

Delivered

There were signs — small ones at first.
Little truths I swallowed because I didn’t want to disrupt the picture I had painted.

It wasn’t another woman.
It was another version of life
that I was never meant to shrink myself into.

And when the truth finally surfaced,
I realized I didn’t lose a partner.
I lost the version of me
who mistook endurance for love
and silence for strength.

This was my moment of return.
My doorway back to myself.

I wasn’t discarded.
I was delivered.

Reflection Question:
What version of yourself are you finally ready to release?

Becoming Her

There’s a version of me I never fully met,
because I was so busy surviving.
So busy fixing, explaining, absorbing,
making myself smaller
so someone else wouldn’t feel threatened by my presence.

But once the dust settled?
I saw her —
the woman underneath the weight.

The one who doesn’t chase clarity,
because she embodies it.
The one who doesn’t beg for reciprocity,
because she requires it.
The one who doesn’t break to be chosen,
because she chooses herself first.

This is the becoming.
The quiet rise.
The sacred rebuild.

Once you're delivered back to yourself,
you can’t return to the places
that required you to dim your light to survive.

I’m not who I was in that marriage.
I’m not who I was in that grief.
I’m not even who I was yesterday.

I am becoming —
fully, boldly,
and without apology.

Reflection Question:
Who is the version of you waiting on the other side of your healing?

Until Next Time ~ Lady Jay