My Story.

In 1997 I had my first rock bottom. I remember standing in my laundry room with my 5-month-old in my arms when a yellow sticky note fell from my husband’s jeans pocket. The note had a simple smiley face drawn on it, but my intuition told me it was something more. And it was.

A few months later my husband moved out, and I hit a total rock bottom. All I had been taught, everything I knew, and everything I had planned for vanished overnight.

I found a no-bullshit therapist with advice that was so hard to hear. “Mari, he said, I don’t want to talk about your husband, I want to talk about you. How did you get here?”

At first I was shocked, pissed off even, but then I began to look at that. How did I get here?