When Shit Hits the Fan, Start Here

The Small Things That Held Me Together

Let’s get real for a second. We all know approximately half of marriages end in divorce. It’s just the way of the world.

And don’t get me wrong, I loved marriage. I fucking loved it. I loved the commitment, the family unit, the ritual of it all. I was good at it. For someone like me, an only child who lost my larger-than-life dad at the age of six, the ability to start my own family felt like winning the lottery.

I still love marriage. And I look forward to being married again one day.

So what do you do when that idea of heaven breaks in two? When you have no tools, no roadmap…just yourself, naked on the shower floor while the water is still running, knowing your two beautiful children need to be fed, dressed, and out the door for school?

You start small.

And I don’t mean this to be depressing or gut-wrenching. What it’s really about is getting back to the basics and how the basics can TRULY SAVE YOUR LIFE. Small steps, stacked over time, become a new way forward.

If I go back to those first gut-punch days, weeks, and months, here’s what I’d want you to know: if you’re on the verge of saying, “Oh shit, I’ve really got to do this…” you can.

Without being a psychologist, I know one thing for sure: everyone reacts differently when trauma hits. Some people avoid it altogether. They bury themselves in work, in distractions, in anything that keeps them from feeling. Others charge at it head-on, desperate to fix or control what feels broken, almost like if they can “do” enough, they won’t have to sit with the pain. And then there are those who shut down completely, frozen under the weight of it all like their nervous system just hits the brakes.

If you’ve ever read about attachment styles, you’ll recognize the echoes: avoiders who turn away (*I can’t wait to dive into this soon), fixers who lean in too hard, and the ones who collapse under pressure.

Looking back, my own ‘frozen’ phase lasted close to nine months. And that was just the paralysis, not the heartbreak or the slow work of healing. After more than 20 years in a relationship, it takes a long time to accept that kind of loss.

None of it is wrong. It’s just survival.

And for me? I broke wide open.

And while it was the messiest option of them all, it forced me to feel everything I’d been running from and address everything… and I mean EVERYTHING. The feelings and patterns I couldn’t name, couldn’t understand, couldn’t see clearly. It was time to do the work and get to the core of my own shortcomings. Breaking open meant I couldn’t hide, I couldn’t numb. I had to strip it all back and rebuild piece by piece. It wasn’t pretty, but it was the doorway to something real.

There’s a strange quiet that shows up when your life splits. The phone looks blurry. Food tastes like cardboard. The sunshine feels too bright. But if you’re lucky, you have your people. That’s the first ping of hope. They don’t give advice. Not a plan. Just presence. They just hold you and your children. The women who’ve walked this shitty path before and even the ones who haven’t, sit beside IT and beside YOU until you can stand. That’s what saved me at the start: women who didn’t require me to make sense, who didn’t need a tidy timeline, who were comfortable with the ugly middle. Comfortable with this new normal.

Unlike my marriage, they stayed. And they weren’t going anywhere.

They found ways to step in. My dear friend Wendy had me over for dinner like it was routine. No asking, no fuss. I think I spent half the time not speaking, she just feed me. She’s also the reason I have my life-changing therapist to this day. Erin let me crawl into her bed and just be. She’d gone through a high-profile divorce herself, so no words were needed. We both just knew. It’s a weird club to be in (one you never want to join) but when you’re in it, you get it. That’s the thing about women who’ve walked through heartbreak: you don’t need language. You just need someone who won’t leave.

And while I don’t consider myself basic, as silly as it sounds, I had to start from zero. BASIC GIRL 101, let’s go. Day by day, things looked almost embarrassingly simple. I’d been the high-functioning working mom, the one who loved her career, loved building the family empire, and loved (and still loves) being a mom more than anything.

And let’s not forget, I lived a very public life. But at my core I am a truly private person. So navigating a high-profile divorce in secret…well, that’s its own mind-blowing story that to this day still remains under lock and key.

But in those early days? Oh my fuck. I couldn’t even get dressed. Couldn’t get out of bed. Sure, the ten pounds I dropped looked great on the outside, but let’s be honest, it wasn’t healthy. I didn’t even have ten pounds to lose.

That’s why before we even begin to talk about how to move forward financially, legally, or any of that…you have to start with grace. Start with taking care of your sweet babies, if you have them, and start taking care of you. Start with new rituals, even tiny ones.

There were a few things we did every single day in our household just to make it through. And as I write them now, they sound so basic.

But here’s the thing: basic is what works.

Basic feels like a new, safe space. And it is.

The Small Things That Saved Me

Therapy (for me, for my kids).
I didn’t run to therapy because I wanted to. I went because I couldn’t do this alone. I needed support. Ask for help. There is no shame in therapy. It wasn’t about being “fixed.” Although the deep dives eventually came. But in the beginning it was about having a safe place to fall apart—and showing my kids that healing is normal.

Gratitude—forced at first, real later.
I wasn’t journaling to be cute. I was journaling to survive. At night, with my kids, we’d name the smallest comforts “We’re together. That ice cream tonight was delicious. We have a comfy bed to sleep in.” That practice rewired me. And eventually over time the gratitude list turned into profound moments of compassion and empathy. To this day I am still humbled by the depths of my children’s awareness. If you need help starting, this gratitude journal was my anchor.

Morning and Night Time Rituals (non-negotiable).
My mornings used to be rushed. But post-divorce, survival looked like opening the windows immediately, dimming the lights, and playing soft music before I could talk myself into staying in bed. It sounds tiny, but it shifted the whole day.

Talk to your people.
The right people never think you’re “too much.” I spent hours in my den after the kids went to bed, talking to my girlfriends on the phone. Every night. It saved me. They never made me feel like too much or never got off the call before I was ready to do so. Community heals what silence can’t.

Move your body. Get outside.
Not for steps. Not for a six-pack. Just to feel alive. Some days it was a short walk down to the beach. Other days, it was sitting under our olive tree with the dogs. Sunlight doesn’t solve everything, but it damn sure helps.

Journaling.
There’s no right or wrong way to do it. Some days it was a brain dump of everything swirling in my head. Other days it was just a list of things I wish I’d done differently or a lesson I was trying to unpack. Sometimes it was one line, sometimes five pages. The point wasn’t to write beautifully, it was to get the weight out of my body and onto paper. This one is my favorite and I’m still writing daily.

Breaking wide open wasn’t pretty but these small things held me together.

And if you’re there now, wondering how you’ll possibly do it: start here.

Because the truth is, basic works. Basic is beautiful.

And all the small things? They’re never small at all.

xx- Jen