The Aphrodite Collective

There’s a kind of silence that follows heartbreak — not the dramatic, stormy silence of slammed doors or shouted words, but the heavy kind. The kind that settles in your kitchen at 2 a.m. while you’re staring into the blue light of whatever social media app you have open.

Divorce, they say, is one of the most painful kinds of grief — but no one tells you what it’s like to experience it as a stay-at-home mom. To suddenly be faced with a future that doesn’t look anything like the one you built your entire identity around.

You wake up one morning and realize your “we” has turned into “me.” And not in a liberating, pop-song way — but in a how the hell do I pay the electric bill way.

Stage One: The Shock

It starts with disbelief.

You think maybe it’s a bad dream, or maybe things can still go back to normal. You move through the house like a ghost, folding laundry, cooking dinners, smiling for your kids — because if you stop moving, you’ll have to feel it.

You replay every conversation, every fight, every moment you thought you were safe. And yet, here you are. You keep breathing, though every breath feels heavy.

Stage Two: The Fear

Then comes the fear — cold and practical.

How do I find a job after time out of the workforce?

How do I afford a deposit on a place that allows dogs?

How do I make my child feel safe when I don’t even know where home is anymore?

This is the stage where Google becomes your best friend and your worst enemy. You type things like “how to start over with no money” and “divorce checklist for moms” while crying quietly in your car in the school pick-up line.

You try to stay strong, but strength isn’t a constant — it’s something that flickers. Some days, you glow. Some days, you barely spark.

Stage Three: The Surrender

Eventually, the fight leaves your body.

You stop trying to control every detail. You start to accept that some things will be messy, some days will be dark, and sometimes the only victory is making it to bedtime.

This isn’t weakness. This is surrender — and surrender is sacred.

It’s the quiet knowing that your world has been shaken, but you’re still here. You may not have the answers, but you’ve got the will to find them.

Stage Four: The Rise

And one day, without even realizing it, you start to rebuild.

You figure out how to make ends meet, how to smile again without forcing it, how to trust the sunrise. You start to remember who you were before the world told you that your worth was measured in someone else’s perception of you.

You remember the woman who once had dreams that didn’t fit neatly inside a house. You remember her magic. You remember you.

And that’s when it hits you — this heartbreak didn’t destroy you.

It stripped away everything that wasn’t real, everything that wasn’t you, and left behind the core of who you’ve always been: a fighter, a mother, a creator, a goddess.

The Moral of the Story

There is no perfect roadmap for rebuilding your life. But there is one truth I’ve learned through the ashes — you will rise again.

Not as the woman you were before him.

But as the woman you were meant to become all along.

And when you do, your light will burn softer — but stronger.

Like a candle that’s been through the storm and still refuses to go out.

✨ To my sisters walking through the same fire:

You’re not broken. You’re becoming.