The waves crashed against the shoreline, the storm clouds pushed aside the sun, as tears unforgivingly took hold of my cheeks. I was the last of the group left on the beach, alone and vulnerable. 

A couple of months earlier bags of garbage and donations lined my driveway as my parents and I emptied out the belongings of my life. The house sold a day before it even had a chance to be put on the market. Shortly after, I was granted a leave by the Board of Education that would place my 15 year teaching career on hold. Construction crews worked day in and day out to build a new luxury apartment complex with resort-like amenities in the area I had been searching for a new place to call home. A new job offer became reality. The pandemic turned the housing market into a money-making machine that cleared away my student loan debt, credit card debt, and blessed me with an abundance of funds to pursue a new start. 

At 37 years old, I had a clean slate. Less belongings, no debt, money in the bank, an opportunity to start a new career, and a strong desire to pursue whatever was meant to be mine. 

It was that day on the beach with the beauty of the open ocean beside me that I knew I’d come so far. After 5 years of pursuing a man that wasn’t right for my future goals, his less than honest actions were displayed on social media. While acknowledging my own accountability in the ordeal, I sat with the heavy feelings. I wasn’t going to let anger be one of them. 

“Ma’am, a storm is coming. You might want to leave the beach soon.” I could no longer ignore the storm clouds as I headed to the safety of our beach house. That storm never came, and the tight grip placed upon my heart was subsiding quicker than expected.  For the first time in my adult life I knew that my self-worth was no longer tied to a house, belongings, a job, and most certainly not a man.