There's a version of forty I carried around for a long time without realizing it. She lived in a house with a partner, maybe a child, a life that looked a certain way. I didn't examine her too closely. I just assumed she'd be there when I arrived. She wasn't. What was there instead changed everything and somewhere underneath the grief was relief. Acceptance isn't the consolation prize. It's the door you couldn't see because you were staring at the wall.

You've tried therapy. You talked, cried, maybe felt a little better and then went home feeling exactly the same. It's not that therapy doesn't work. It's that the kind of therapy matters. EMDR doesn't just help you talk about what happened, it helps your brain actually process it. And for a lot of women, it's the thing that finally moves the needle.

Nobody prepares you for the loneliness that comes with healing. Nobody tells you that you'll lose relationships as you grow, or how hard it is to find people who match your level of commitment to change. Healing can feel lonely and I won't pretend otherwise. But nothing hurts more than unresolved trauma and relationships that drain you. You deserve more than that. You just have to believe it.

Loneliness carries such a stigma, yet it's one of the most common human experiences. What if instead of avoiding it, we embraced it? Through my own journey into solitude, I discovered that loneliness can be a powerful catalyst for self-discovery, inner strength, deeper connection, and an undeniable closeness with God. The silence that once felt unbearable became the very space where I found peace.