When I went through my divorce, some people would tell me, “You’re so strong.” I appreciated hearing those words, but you really don’t feel so strong when you’re going through it. Yes, you made an incredibly hard decision. Yes, you did something to change your life when others fear change. But Jesus, you just broke a vow. You just ended something that wasn’t supposed to end. You quit. That’s what it feels like. So, yeah. I wasn’t raising my arms up like Rocky at the top of the stairs. I was cracking half a smile in hopes I could quickly get to somewhere secluded so I could shed a couple tears, clean myself up, and keep moving.

They say “time heals,” and it’s true. But it took some time for me to realize my own strength. And it was December 28, 2015 when I first felt like that “strong” person people were talking about.

I tell people that when I was considering ending my marriage, I wasn’t thinking about someone else. I was thinking about a place. And that place was an apartment in downtown Indianapolis. I was actually envisioning a lot of what I’m doing right now- living on my own, doing my own thing, taking care of me- and just me. So it wasn’t a huge surprise when I signed a lease to rent my apartment downtown in mid-December.

But then, I had to move. So on December 28, I got back from Christmas break in Ohio, and I packed. I had already taken some of my belongings to a storage unit to empty out the house so it was ready to go on the market. But there was so much more to do. Boxes and boxes. Clothes, pictures, furniture, jewelry, books, CDs (yes, CDs). I was packing up this life that I had so many plans for.

Then I had to take my bed. My bed I had bought when I had just graduated from college was now one of the guest beds. God, I loved that bed. I was actually very excited to get it back in my life every day. However, when I moved it, I had to move our other guest bed into that room for staging the house.

Let me tell you, moving box springs and mattresses on your own is hard. Let me also tell you- I’m TERRIBLE at asking people for help. I’m sure some of my friends are going to read this and immediately think, ‘Sarah, you should’ve called me!’ But I think I had to do it on my own. I guess I had been doing a lot on my own for a while if I think about it. But this packing- this moving of things- I had to do it by myself.

I moved the mattress and box spring downstairs. I then went and got the other mattress and box spring. They were so heavy. I was pulling, then pushing. Trying with all my might to just get it where it needed to be. Tears started streaming down my face. I was so angry. FUCK. FUCK. WHY THE FUCK. WHY.

And then, it was done. I got the mattress on top of the box spring. I wiped the tears off my face, the sweat off my brow. I put the sheets on the bed, the comforter on top, then the pillows. It was ready to be shown.

I then walked downstairs, and I looked at it. All of it. Here were my things I had just moved into this place a year and a half ago. And now they’re moving out.

‘Jesus. I just did all of this.’

I then took a photo because at that moment, I did finally feel- and actually see- my own strength.

The next day, my sister and friend Todd helped me move everything downtown (yes, I actually did ask for help on that part). Downtown to MY place. My little piece of heaven looking out at the Indianapolis skyline.

Later that night, I had friends over to share this next step with me. This was the start to a new chapter. And I have to say- when you find moments when you’re actually smiling, actually laughing, actually feeling good about yourself, and ACTUALLY realizing your own strength- you have to really cherish them. And of course- open a bottle of champagne.