When I decided to file for divorce, I thought that once the decree was signed and I had moved out, I’d finally feel free. The endless arguments, the silent treatments, the emotional abuse, and the constant walking on eggshells would finally be behind me.

But the truth is—the court can’t give you closure.

My real healing didn’t start until well after the judgment was final. It started when I had to figure out how to handle weekends without my kids. It started when I had to build a life around shared holidays. It started when I looked in the mirror and asked myself: “Who am I now?”

Why I Divorced Twice

Many of you may not know this, but I actually divorced my ex-husband twice. Sounds crazy, I know.

The first time, I didn’t feel like my reasons were “bad enough.” Behind the scenes, my marriage had been breaking down for years—cycles of arguing, detachment, punishment by silent treatment, and emotional abuse so constant it felt like the air I breathed.

But when people on the outside looked in, they didn’t see it that way. We were still going to the same church. We tried nesting. We tried to play nice. And because people didn’t see the “big, bad reason” they expected, I felt guilty. I questioned myself constantly.

Maybe I hadn’t tried hard enough.
Maybe I wasn’t justified in leaving.
Maybe I was making the wrong choice.

And when the pressure came—from friends, my church, even my family—it pushed me back into shame. Divorce felt like a giant failure stamped across my forehead. Eventually, I gave in. We got remarried.

The Second Divorce

Not long after, I was pregnant again. And before our son was even born, I knew I couldn’t stay.

I filed for divorce again, and by the time my son was six weeks old, it was finalized. My ex thought I’d change my mind once the baby arrived, but this time I didn’t. I was resolute.

But even though I knew I had made the right decision, it didn’t feel clean. It didn’t feel easy.

It was gut-wrenching.
I cried when my kids weren’t with me.
I spiraled under the exhaustion of solo parenting.
I felt broke, judged, and ashamed.
I felt like I had failed—and like I was giving my kids a subpar life.

That’s when I realized: healing wasn’t going to come from a court order. It had to come from me.

Taking Responsibility for My Healing

Everything shifted when I decided to take ownership of my healing.

I joined a women’s empowerment coaching group focused on becoming your own soulmate first. I pushed myself to make new friends. I tried new hobbies. I built a new community around me.

And I had to learn a lot of hard lessons—lessons I’m still practicing today:

• How to ground myself when anxiety spikes.
  
  
• How to self-regulate instead of spiraling.
  
  
• How to prioritize self-care and give myself permission to do less, not more.
  
  
• How to love myself when I felt completely unlovable.
  
  

That’s when I began to feel whole again—not because everything was perfect, but because I was finally reclaiming who I was.

Why I Created the Thrive Framework

That journey is the reason I created the Thrive Framework.

I know what it feels like to think divorce is the finish line, only to realize it’s the starting line for an entirely new kind of healing. I know how lonely it feels to grieve the life you thought you’d have while trying to figure out who you are now.

The Thrive Framework was built from the exact practices that helped me move from broken to rebuilding—grounding, self-love, boundaries, and creating space for joy again.

If you’re stuck in survival mode, wondering how to move from pain to purpose, I’d love to walk with you.

👉 You can learn the Thrive Framework inside the Thrive Masterclass and begin your own healing journey today.

Because the court can’t give you closure. But you can.

Sending you love and light 

- Taylor 🫶🏾