My Divorce Journey: What I’ve Learned About Healing and Growth
I never imagined I’d be writing this. But here I am, not broken, just becoming. This is my story of divorce, healing, and what growth truly looks like.
1. The Shock of It All
No one gets married thinking it will end in divorce. I walked into that chapter with love, hope, and a vision of forever. But in March of last year, everything shattered.
One morning, as my husband was brushing his teeth, he casually turned to me and said, “I’ve never loved you.”
Just like that. No warning. No build-up.
I froze. My body went still, the tears wouldn’t stop, and none of it made sense.
A week later, a voice deep inside told me the truth was in his phone. In the eight years we were together, I had never gone through it — but that day, I did. I guessed his password on the first try. Within two minutes, I found what I needed: he was having an affair… with a married woman. Not just any woman — someone who had entered my home, shared meals with me, laughed with me, someone who knew me and chose betrayal anyway.
And still, he lied.
Even after I showed him the truth.
Even when I told him I knew about them spending our wedding anniversary together — April 22, 2024. That day, I lost it. I screamed. I threw things. I drove over 100 mph with nowhere to go and nowhere to place the rage. I wanted to die. He stood there and told me he was afraid for his life after what he had done to mine.
That was the day I knew I had to let go.
Four days later, I filed for divorce and had him legally removed from the home he defiled. The house I built. The one he had planned to kick me out of so he could live there with her.
He used me for nearly a decade. And the worst part? He was fine with it.
2. Sitting With the Pain (And Not Rushing It)
Grief doesn’t follow a script. I didn’t get to cry once and move on. I had to fall apart repeatedly. I had to sit in the silence. I had to accept that the man I married had died before my eyes the moment he chose to become a stranger.
I started journaling. I called therapists. I let my friends and family wrap their arms around me when I couldn’t hold myself up. And I let God hold the pieces I didn’t know how to carry.
Healing didn’t start with “moving on.”
It began with staying still and allowing the pain to do its work.
I learned that heartbreak isn’t something to fix. It’s something to feel. And the more I allowed myself to feel it, the freer I became.
3. Rediscovering Myself
Somewhere in the wreckage, I started to find myself again.
I returned to blogging and poured myself into Sabby’s Sojourns. I tried modeling something I always dreamed about but never believed I was good enough for. I reconnected with my Korean roots. I spent more time with my twins. I danced in fairy wings, traveled solo, and even considered starting a podcast.
I also secretly saved money throughout the marriage, not because I expected any of this, but because I hoped to grow our family. Those savings didn’t keep me out of debt, but they helped me survive. I’m still standing today because of that, and because of the grace of God, the love of friends, and the unwavering support of my family.
I was never just someone’s wife.
I am me.
Bold. Soft. Resilient. Becoming.
4. What I Know Now
Here are some truths divorce taught me:
Not all endings are failures.
Peace feels better than pretending.
Boundaries are self-love in action.
Joy is still possible and deserved.
You can rebuild something beautiful from brokenness.
5. The Beauty in Rebuilding
Healing isn’t pretty. It’s raw, unpredictable, and exhausting. But every step has brought me closer to a version of myself I’m finally proud of.
I hosted a divorce party — not to glorify the pain, but to reclaim joy. I’ve booked modeling gigs, connected with beautiful creatives, and I’m slowly learning to tell my story from a place of strength instead of shame.
I still feel lonely sometimes. I still wonder when my heart will soften.
But I have faith that it will.
One day, I’ll trust again.
One day, I’ll love again — deeply, truthfully, and with someone who sees me.
I believe mead should be in more love stories because love should taste like something sweet and hard-earned.
I’m learning to write one of those stories now, just with myself as the main character.
Here’s to heartbreak that didn’t win.
To healing that’s never linear.
To rebuilding what was lost — and becoming more than I ever imagined.
He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3
