As we drove away that frigid January night, just ahead of a blizzard, quietly weeping, I thought the worst was over. We headed south, and over the next three days, as the miles passed and the temperatures climbed, our spirits soared with the hope that a fresh start offers. Optimistic to a fault, I believed that smooth sailing lay ahead after this season of change.

 

Four months earlier, in an instant, my 25-year marriage erupted violently along the serious fault lines buried just beneath its surface. A month later, my 13-year-old daughter, Riley, an academic and extracurricular superstar with great plans, was diagnosed with a debilitating chronic illness. Her inability to attend school and our consultation with specialists led to the decision that she and I would expedite our planned move from Maryland to Florida in hopes that the milder climate would be salutary.

 

After some deliberation, my 19-year-old son decided to remain happily ensconced in Maryland where he worked, went to school, and belonged to a close-knit group of friends. The agony of leaving him and our beloved seven-year-old dogs was unimaginable. Yet we loaded a laundry basket with summer clothes, packed up our laptops and a few books, grabbed some snacks, and set off. We were leaving our “perfect” nuclear family for our new bachelorette existence; leaving suburbia for a lively beach town; leaving our extensive social network for the unknown. 

 

We arrived to an emerald ocean under a cerulean sky and the welcoming arms of visiting family, and happily undertook the task of transforming our apartment into a sanctuary. Our days were rich with exploration and discovery, and we savored every simple pleasure and serendipitous event (such as finding a local doctor specializing in Riley’s little-known illness). We were overcoming obstacles and forging ahead.

 

And then we weren’t.

 

Two months in, Riley became terribly ill and additional diagnoses were made. Her dream of attending the prestigious private school she’d worked so hard to get into was dashed. And I learned that instead of signing the separation agreement we’d discussed before I left, her dad had opted for the scorched earth option of divorce warfare. Their relationship became the worst of the collateral damage. 

 

Months of unremitting misery followed. The bad movie that our life had become was played out in hospitals, courtrooms, and doctors’ offices. And in isolation. 

 

Most days I put one foot in front of the other and did the next right thing. Yet I had restarted my life with the intention of thriving rather than surviving, and on good days I remembered that intention despite being utterly unaware of how to accomplish it. And then I came across a sentence from Colleen Saidman Yee’s Yoga for Life that I felt compelled to write down and post prominently:

 

“It takes immense bravery to break a habit of thinking you aren’t enough.”*

 

Reflecting on that concept every morning felt important although I couldn’t articulate why. I added it to my arsenal of positive thinking and gratitude and pondered it as I met each new challenge. 

 

There were brief respites from the struggle and sadness and chaos; shining signposts of potentially brighter days ahead. Riley and I reveled in our increasing closeness and took pleasure in sharing music and books and films. We adopted a crazy Chihuahua who became a local celebrity and filled our days with great hilarity and affection. Visits from far-flung family and friends were especially healing.

 

On one such visit, I was walking through Urban Outfitters with my two twenty-something nephews, when one of them brought my attention to New York Times bestseller You are a Badass: How to Stop Doubting Your Greatness and Start Living an Awesome Life by Jen Sincero. 

 

“Auntie, you are a badass, you know that, right?”

 

I laughed in surprise and thought no more of it. Several weeks later, the book arrived as a gift. I’d like to say that I devoured it immediately and emerged a different person, but the truth is, it sat on my desk for a while, periodically whispering to me. Eventually, I made the connection between doubting one’s greatness and thinking one is not enough. 

And so, in tiny increments, I began the hard work of internal change in hopes of weathering the tsunami of external change washing over me.

 

Meditation and mindfulness proved effective at quelling the panic brought on by the prospect of physical and financial ruin. A renewed commitment to taking care of myself even as I watched my daughter deteriorate provided me the wherewithal to continue. One day I realized I was actually pondering concepts such as forgiveness and surrender and, threaded throughout it all, self-love.

 

But growth and change aren’t linear, as the universe was all too happy to illustrate. One year in, a complex settlement agreement brought a temporary respite from bitter litigation. A few days later, Riley woke me in the night and revealed that the physical and mental toll of her illness were beyond her ability to endure further. She was hospitalized as a suicide risk. The struggle to navigate a shockingly inadequate mental health care system, to provide her with an education, and to re-ignite her desire to live, seemed Sisyphean at times.

 

And yet there were moments of grace intertwined; moments when I was able to rely on a new inner strength and experience the beauty of life as well as the sorrow. These moments buoyed me through several catastrophic medical events and additional neurological and psychiatric diagnoses for Riley. They allowed me to begin to make connections in the community. And they fueled my determination to create an amazing life despite the many challenges we faced.

 

Cobbled together, these moments have developed into the lesson plan for that amazing life. I’m learning to live in the moment with humor and gratitude. I’m learning to love myself and set boundaries while serving others. I’m learning that lowered expectations and silver linings are the key to a joyously abundant life. And I’m learning that I am more than enough; that, in fact, I am kind of a badass.

 

As we approach the two-year anniversary of our move, our circumstances have changed little. We are still subject to the whims of a cruel disease and the sorrow and isolation that accompany it. We are still recovering emotionally and financially from a harrowing divorce. We are still working to get Riley an education on her own terms. But our home is filled with laughter, and industry and inspiration, and it all began with that kernel of an idea that I am enough; that believing in myself was the change I needed to make to withstand the vagaries of the cosmos.

 

* Yee, C. S. (2015). Yoga for life: A journey to inner peace and freedom. NewYork: Atria, p. 230.