I lost my marriage, my career, and my health all at once, which pushed me into deep depression and addiction.
Nobody ever tells you that simply walking across the front yard might, one day, feel like climbing a mountain. But when you find yourself deep in the valley of depression, it might as well be Everest. Checking your own mail probably doesn’t seem heroic to most people, but the day I finally made it to my mailbox, I felt something change.
I was at rock bottom, but that seemingly insignificant action started my thousand steps to healing.
Let me back up a little. For the first 35 years of my life, I tied my identity to other people or things. First, it was my high school sweetheart. We met when we were just kids—in 7th grade gym class. We both felt like the only awkward kid in the locker room. We had this bond that felt unshakable. When we married right out of high school, I thought we’d be together forever. But as the years went on, something didn’t feel right. We made it through my nursing school into careers, had two sons… I kept pushing down the subtle disconnection I couldn’t explain, hoping things would fix themselves. Therapy, romantic trips… Nothing helped.
I couldn’t shake the thought that maybe—just maybe—there was something he wasn’t telling me. One day, as we were driving, I couldn’t hold back any longer. Staring straight forward but speaking directly to him, I asked, “Have you ever thought you might be attracted to men?”
He didn’t respond right away. He just kept driving, staring straight ahead like me. Then, he pulled over, and I’ll never forget the moment he said, “Yes,” and we both started crying. In that instant, my whole world shattered. My own truth wasn’t what I thought it was. But even in my shock and pain, I couldn’t bring myself to scream or leave. I loved him, and that love didn’t just switch off because of his secret truth.
It wasn’t long after the divorce that I lost my operating room career, too. Health problems piled on. I had undergone gastric bypass surgery, then broken my back, had a radical hysterectomy for cancer, and was diagnosed with multiple autoimmune diseases. It felt like my body was shutting down on me. And so was my mind. The doctors prescribed dozens of medications—pain pills, antidepressants, biologics, chemo, you name it. I was on about 35 different meds that didn’t help but made me feel like a shell of myself.
The combination of losing my husband, my health & career threw me into a tailspin. I couldn’t work and could barely take care of my kids. Confined to a wheelchair, I moved back in with my parents and just… existed. My depression & antics wore out my welcome with them, and I found myself back in the lonely house I shared with my once-best friend. My boys were only there every other week. What was this fresh hell?
I started drinking to numb the pain, thinking alcohol was a “safer” choice. I completely ditched the meds for booze not realizing how quickly it would pull me deeper into depression. I barely ate, barely bathed, and didn’t care about anything. I couldn’t bring myself to care. There were many, many times I seriously considered ending it all.
But something inside me—something that I know was my Father God—kept me from taking those pills. I was numb, but I wasn’t gone yet.
Then, one day, an acquaintance knocked on my door. He dragged me, unwillingly, out of the house for lunch, and I’ll never forget what he said: “What happened to you sucks. But you’re better than this. The world needs you.”
His words, “They need you,” rolled around in my head. When he dropped me off at home, I walked back inside, looked around at the mess of my life, and for the first time in a long while, I wanted something different. The following day, I walked outside & checked the mail. That sounds so small, but for me, it was huge. I hadn’t moved in months. And with that one little step, I realized maybe I wasn’t as stuck as I thought.
After that, I started making micro-movements every day. Little steps that most people wouldn’t even notice—getting dressed, going for a walk, eating a meal, reconnecting with people, finding new friends. Each tiny step helped me inch forward.
My real transformation began when I started working on my sobriety. I got back into therapy and dove into personal and spiritual development. One of the most influential pieces of advice I received was from a mentor who told me to separate my “finite projects” from my “infinite purpose.”
It was a revelation. I realized that my marriage and my nursing career— were finite projects. They had a beginning and an end. But my infinite purpose? That’s what I could live out every day, no matter where I was or my circumstances. That’s what I was born for, what I had been yearning to do since I was a little girl. That purpose brings hope to people who’ve failed, just like I had. Whether it was failing myself, being failed by others, or being failed by my own body, this purpose transcends any temporary role, title, or project.
Life sure as hell doesn’t turn out the way you think it’s going to… but because of the unexpected turns in my life, I learned a valuable lesson about resilience. Knowing yourself and having your own driving purpose is non-negotiable. I had been a wife. I had been a nurse. But when those things were taken from me, I felt lost because I didn’t have a defined purpose to carry Amy through.
Years later, I’m walking a completely different & purposeful path. I’ve built a successful digital marketing agency, found love again with my partner Joseph, and reclaimed my health and my life. None of it happened overnight. It took thousands of tiny, resilient steps to get here—starting with something as small as a heroic walk to the mailbox and figuring out that it had to be directed by ME. Resilience isn’t built in one grandiose leap of success but through a thousand tiny, wavering, brave steps.
I practiced resilience by taking small, consistent steps like personal development, reconnecting with people, and focusing on sobriety. Someone helped me discover my infinite purpose, and I rebuilt my life one micro-movement at a time, regaining strength and direction.
My advice to you is to keep moving, even if it’s just the smallest step. Don’t stop because those little actions will eventually lead you out of the darkness and onto a new path.
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