A few weeks ago, I wrote a post called “Honest” about wanting to be more transparent and vulnerable online. Then my life imploded and I turtled up again faster than you can say, “But wait, I thought you said –”

Long story short? I moved us into a new house single-handedly, which threw my back out and wore me down to the bone, and then my husband and I made the difficult but mutual decision to end our twelve and a half-year marriage.

There is no simple explanation for what happened, nor will I attempt to offer a complicated one. The unfortunate truth about relationships is that they change over time, and what our relationship changed into was better suited to something between friends. So that’s what we are. We’re friends who are raising our two awesome kids together.

What this means for me personally is that I’m looking for a job. A publishing career is great, but I’m not Stephen King-level and, as such, need to transition to something that will reliably pay for super fun things such as rent, groceries, clothing, etc.

I’m heartbroken, but I’m alive. I’m grieving, but I’m healthy. As a survivor, I know what it is to put myself back together after something’s ripped me apart. I have the most supportive friends on the planet, delightful kids, and a caring ex-husband with whom to raise them.

I’m eager to jump back into the workforce and contribute to a team again. I’m looking forward to inside jokes and team building activities, for avid conversations about the latest episodes of Westworld and coffee breaks.

Change is difficult and painful. My comfort zone was vast and I hadn’t shifted from it in a long time, but now that I’m venturing out I find I’m less scared than I thought I would be.

So how’s that for vulnerable and honest? When spots teams have lost some players and the new teammates haven’t found a good groove yet, they say the team is in a rebuilding year. I think that’s a good way to describe my life right now. I’m in a rebuilding year. Wish me luck.