(April 2025 – I write while on hiatus…)

I do wonder if I’m okay. I’ve been in a deep state of survival. Although, in truth I have no reason to explain myself, I find myself wanting to write about it. This is my safest place after all isn’t it?

I’m no stranger to mentally and emotionally dark places, and I’m not easily frightened by the depths of my own suffering. Suffering is a place I’ve visited many times for many decades. I know how to pull myself out of it.

This time, despite my best efforts to stabilize myself, I am still admittedly having a hard time.

Oh God, It’s Really Happening

I am getting divorced. Big T – Trauma.

My queer marriage, is being “dissolved” during the rise of fascism in my country where queer people are being openly prosecuted and attacked… killed even. Super Big T – Trauma.

But why?

In a 700 square foot apartment with 2 humans inside, a conversation is recorded over Sunday cleaning music in 2021. The weight of the conversation was realized in 2025:

“I love you!” I holler over the music.

-silence-

I raise my voice, playfully, “I LOVE YOU I SAID!!!”

“Who the fuck are you talking to?”

“You… Dang…” I shrink.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?”

Two years later we were married.

This ending has become an extreme sport of ongoing arguments, never ending paperwork, and outright aggression. After awhile, I’d become cellophane – crackling, transparent, and filled with complaints.

Somehow, my clothes ragged, I degraded into a beggar. Even groveling for a show of good faith. Each time I was met with purposeful misunderstanding. The energy expended to maintain the grief, work, care tasks, and begging my ex to resolve things in a clear, concise way, ultimately burned me out.

I then decided to become a plain grey rock. One so still and simple. A bland, unfeeling, indifferent grey rock when I was once a prism.

Don’t misunderstand, I’m grateful to have been made a witness to the birth and death of a great love. It was my decision and I would’ve made it 100 times over. That also doesn’t mean that the feelings and grief magically go away.

Reflecting on myself, my role, and where I go from here has taken up nearly every end of my mind these last few months.

The person I became in the relationship, then marriage, then separated… I hardly recognize her. Witnessing my own mess of emotional turmoil was humbling to say the least.

My self-confidence is at a low I haven’t seen since middle school. My brain is completely stuck in a thick fog. Find myself biting my tongue and overthinking every decision I make. I’d probably apologize to the sun if it burnt me.

I’m exaggerating. The sun only accepts cash apologies.

So what should I do? I’m seeing clearly why I am in this situation. I’m validating my experiences and connecting with my support system including a therapist to restructure my mind. I hope and pray that it works.

One Year, Many Tears Later

About twenty thousand. Twenty thousand United States Dollars over a basket and an incense holder. Before you ask, there was nothing I could do. Once the contested divorce was initiated by my ex, we were opted into court proceedings, lawyers fees, additional taxes, and subsequently hell.

One year, five months, and four days until the very last detail of the divorce was resolved. Finalizing the divorce took longer than the entirety of the marriage. Should I feel proud of myself for getting out so quickly or pathetic because I never had a wedding anniversary? The shock carried me through New Year 2026.

Then two people I know died from different cancers within two weeks of each other.

Yeah.

I have cried enough tears to erode a small sliver of the Grand Canyon. Cried until my body shook like a gazelle narrowly escaping death – because I did. I just cried.

I called upon my gods, my support system, and therapist. When I dedicated myself to feeling even a little better, life started to open up to me again.

Then, I traveled.

Hope which started as a small grain I bled to protect, blossomed. My people reminded me of who I was at my core and provided me a safe space to fall apart and put myself together again. They didn’t mind my cellophane complaints and I didn’t have to protect my hope so much. They reminded me how deserving of happiness I am – not just despite what I’ve been through, but inherently.

I allowed the grief, loss, and pain transform me into a happier me. I started seeing the glimmers. When I decided to be as happy as possible, life started showing me more joyful times, more deep belly laughs, and more intimacy.

And then I Quit My Job

That’s right, I dropped my financially abundant job in the worst job market in American history. After saving up to do so of course.

Months before handing in my two weeks notice, I questioned it every single day:

Is this the life I truly desire? Typing away on a bright screen concealing my anger under the guise of professionalism. I was smiling when I didn’t want to, and giving infinite grace those who intend to impede my job…. What a self-denying nightmare.

I finally quit because I remembered why I started this blog in the first place – I believe in my ability. Truly, I see myself as a permanent creative who is destined to share my story to help others on their journey.

Had the idea, just needed the platform (time). And now, I have both and wisdom to boot.

I’m committing fully. This is my chance to live this life, the way I desire and at a pace that works for me.

For the first time in over a year, it’s quiet.

One day, I’m feasting my eyes upon the majesty of the forest in Bear Canyon Lake. The trees swished together in the breeze – mother nature’s breathwork symphony. My beautiful friends surrounded me in laughter and uplifting conversations by the campfire.

Another day, I’m post work-out, I’m hydrated and calm in my living room. My content is recorded. There is nothing further for me to do. The gentle ticking of the wall clock and the soft rustling of my monstera’s leaves recreate a soft soundscape for my new life.

Peace has found me again.

I feel the sun on my skin and I can breathe.

I languish in my own rhythm and put meaningful, responsible effort towards where I’m going. Rushing is no longer in my vocabulary. You cannot find urgency in my lexicon. I am fluid.

My new norm is intentional and highly considerate of self. “What can I do for myself today?” Is how I start every day. Balancing rest with productivity and creativity? I love this for me.

So, with that *brief* invitation into the last year of my life while I was on hiatus, I return to the subject of this post. Am I really okay?

Yeah, babe. I’m back and better than ever.

-Z. Nova 2026