"Owning our stories and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing we will do. There is wisdom and worth living in our stories." – Brene Brown

We are not just one story; I am not one story. There are many stories I could share with you, from my growing up in a small town raised by a single mom, receiving a letter from my biological father for the first time ever at the age of 40, to my career choices and how I arrived to where I am today. However, the (first) story I want to share with you is what I consider my most inciting moment to date.

I moved to California 6 years ago with my husband. He was recruited by a big corporate conglomerate in Silicon Valley, and so, we decided together to relocate. He was charming, South African, funny, adventurous, humble, perhaps a little naughty… and boy did he love an adventure and to take risk. He was my best friend and the best partner. No matter what we encountered, from life choices, family struggles, and traveling the world, we had each others back. My friends were envious of the way he treated me; my manager at work even once said “If you want to know what a great relationship looks like, meet Charlene and her husband”.

I thought I was in a 'perfect' relationship (as close as one gets given there is no such thing). Until ...in an instant everything I knew to be true crumbled around me. My life turned upside down. The man I thought I knew – that my family loved (I often thought more than me at times) and that my friends adored – had been harboring a deep dark secret for years; possibly our entire decade together, I will never know. In that instant I was evicted from my life.

So here I am chopped at the knees, panicked, in shock. And in a foreign city where I knew no one. I decided that if any two people can overcome this it was us, as a couple, and as individuals. I got us into therapy and for almost a year, I bore this secret alone. Even after I asked for a divorce, I kept it hidden from most people.

All the voices and rules of the world as I knew it came crashing upon me. How could I have let this happen? Negative thoughts flooded my every breath.

• "You are so independent, smart, where have you been?"
• "How foolish could you be?"
• "If something is wrong it must be you."
• "Don’t tell anyone, the shame is too much to bare."
• "The embarrassment is too great."
• "You are a fool and should have known."
• "Who you thought you married is now a stranger."

And on and on the voices flooded. "How will you tell people? What will they think? Everyone at work knows the TWO of you. You can’t change your name, that will draw attention. You can’t show anger, that is too personal. Don’t cry that is too unprofessional. Be a zombie. Show up and pretend nothing is wrong. Stay quiet. Keep it hidden. Don’t bare the shame of it all. You are broken. Damaged. Aging. Childless. Unwanted. Used. How will I ever trust a man again."

How will I trust myself? 

I went into survival mode after the first year. Lawyer, divorce, sell house, move cities, start new. I had tried to solve the problem without vulnerability and I couldn’t do it anymore. I drove myself into the ground hiding it all. Pretending. Lying to everyone. I felt outside myself. Disconnected from who I truly am. I did everything possible to not feel pain or be vulnerable. I was tapping out of life. Numbing with TV, shopping, food. I asked my coach in one of our sessions, “do you think I am depressed”? She actually (lovingly) laughed, and said, “no, honey, you are just EXHAUSTED”!

The middle of your story is often the longest. I stayed here for a long time, tapping in and out. Being in the dark, crying on the floor at home, being angry and ashamed, leaning on friends and then feeling like I was burdening them, making bad choices in who I chose to be new friends, taking on a lover, and then fooling myself into thinking I loved him, which of course I didn’t. I was ashamed that I was divorced. I wrote it on a post note at my company's Women's Leadership event in a break out session on covering. I would do anything to not own this – to not have this “stigma” attached to me. To not walk around with a huge I DON’T TRUST YOU sign on my forehead. To not let this DEFINE me.

Fear Kept overriding the still small voice inside telling me to rise up. Own it. Be the change.

I am not what happens to me, I am what I choose to become.

So I gathered my resources, my people, my coaches, even a stranger here and there and I learned to express my anger, my sadness, to find my truth, heal, lean on my community, lean on my management to support me, be vulnerable and ask for help, to not be ashamed. To OWN my story through sharing it. I found community and support in my work family. Friendships I will treasure for a lifetime. Including, Goddess help me, dating advice ;-)

I began this journey to heal a broken heart and in the process I found myself. This eviction lead me to a truer meaning.  A truer ME.

The worst thing is the best thing that has happened to me.

Truly.

This Brut-iful* adventure has led me to finding the true meaning of trust in relationships, courage to own my story, shame resistance, and the beauty and necessity of vulnerability. To share from my heart and not from hurt.

"When we deny our stories, they define us. When we own our stories, we get to write the ending." – Brene Brown

In a story where I could have easily learned to close myself off, stay mistrusting, and let fear guide me, I have found just the opposite. I am open, I am trusting, I lead with Love. I embody it. I am living for it. It is all around me in ways I never knew could be possible. 

Owning our stories of struggle, whether heartbreak, disappointment or failure, gives us the power to write our own daring endings. I am still writing mine.

My wish for you, is to write yours.