A year ago I thought my life was over. My marriage ended and I thought I was done.

The reality was that my life was only just beginning.

Somehow I’ve made it through a year of hell – somehow, I’ve survived.

This last year has taught me so much. The fact that I’m still alive is astounding. There were so many days, weeks, months, that I didn’t think I’d make it. That I didn’t want to make it. So much of the last year plus, I was barely alive.

But I’m well and truly on the other side now. Especially after getting ILR, I feel like I can truly put this in the past, and turn the page. The next chapter awaits and I honestly believe it is going to be the best one yet.

A year ago today I confronted my husband, told him to get out, and faced the fact that my marriage was truly and completely over. It was possibly the worst day of my life, with the only exceptions being 24 October (when I found out he was cheating on me) and 30 October (when he moved all his belongings out). Today is a pretty dark day, but I wanted to reflect back on how far I’ve come.

Here are the life lessons I’ve learned from a year of hell.

My gut instinct is never wrong.

I trust my gut. I can tell when something feels off. I have honed my gut instinct as a well-tuned asset to every part of my life. There have been times when I showed up in a new country, knowing no one, with my gut instinct as my sole companion. It has never steered me wrong.

One of the most difficult parts prior to my marriage ending was that my ability to rely on my gut instinct was taken from me. I was made to feel like I was crazy, hypersensitive, and overreacting – when I was right. I knew there was something wrong, and I knew about the cheating for so long. But the lies and manipulating and gaslighting prevented me from trusting what my gut knew to be true. Never again will that ever happen. My gut instinct is spot on, every time, and always has been. Rebuilding my trust in myself has been hard. But the “I knew I was right all along” feeling is validating. I will never fail to trust my gut instinct ever again.

When someone shows you their true colors, believe them.

If someone is acting like they don’t care about you, believe them: they don’t. If someone is being cruel or hurtful, believe that they are trying to hurt you. If someone says they are going to change but never do, believe that they won’t change. If someone is acting like a bad person, they are (almost certainly) a bad person.

So often we try to see the best in people – especially the people we love. We don’t want to accept their actions as truth, because we believe they are better and can be better. But the reality is that when someone is showing you who they are, you should believe them. They are that person. Difficult as it may be to accept that someone might not be who you thought they were or who you want them to be, believe what they show you.

In times of trial and despair, you will find out who your real friends are.

When you are at your lowest, and when you need your people more than ever, you will discover pretty quickly who actually cares about you. The real MVPs will come out of nowhere and surprise you the most (shoutout to my landlord). I cannot express how many people came out of the woodwork for me in the last year. From personal phone calls at 7am, walks and calls during lockdown(s), helping me buy a car, supporting me through my ILR application, passing along divorce information, reminding me to eat, sitting on the other end of a phone as I cried or just sending a message to check in – I have been overwhelmed with love from people who care about me.

I can’t put into words or express how much that means to me. I would not be here without it, and without these people who have gotten me through as I crawled my way up through the darkness.

While I have found so many people who do truly care about me, there have been a shocking amount of people who have shown that they do not care about me. People will also disappoint and hurt you. I have been abandoned, dropped, ditched, and forgotten by people I considered to be best friends or like family. People I thought would always be there for me, weren’t. People who didn’t contact me, who didn’t message me. People who have seen all my posts and ignored it all.

It hurts. However, they have shown that they don’t care – and time and energy spent on them will only be wasted, so I don’t do it anymore. I don’t think it’s worth it to give to people who give absolutely nothing back. So while at your lowest you’ll find out who all is there for you, it’ll be pretty obvious who is not there for you. And it will hurt.

Numbing the pain won’t help long-term. You need to sit with it and feel it.

I faced an immediate decision after my marriage ended and I was living alone and about to go into another lockdown: numb the pain and forget it for now, or feel the excruciating feelings and let it move you forward. I went basically sober from when my marriage ended through the two months to New Year’s Eve – and even after, I really didn’t drink much until lockdown ended in April and I was able to start seeing my friends in person. I knew that if I started drinking (at all), I wouldn’t be able to stop and I would depend on something else to make me feel better.

I definitely believe I made the right choice. I have sat with the pain, I have felt it, I have nearly been destroyed by it. But it does fade over time. It does get better, it does sting less, you can heal. I don’t think numbing the pain will make it go away. And when you stop numbing it, it’ll still be there. Numbing it only prolongs when you deal with it. Numbing won’t serve you in the long run.

You NEVER know what someone else is going through.

Truly, you never know someone’s story unless they tell you. And that’s only if it’s the full story. Everyone goes through their own life and many people silently suffer. Very few people knew the reality of how bad things were for me before my marriage ended. Don’t make assumptions, don’t assume you know the ugly truth unless you truly do. Be kind. A little kindness goes a long way. I wept over messages from strangers, who I’ve never met, but who took a few moments from their day to send me some kind words. I appreciated it, and still appreciate it, so so much. We never know what’s going on in someone’s life, so just be kind. There are a lot of good people out there – I encourage you to be one of them.

Doing things alone is hard, but empowering.

I’m not going to lie, being independent is hard work. I have had to do so much alone this last year – the little things around the house that he always did for me, driving everywhere, traveling and roadtripping and camping around the country on my own. It has been so hard. But it is empowering as hell.

I am confident, independent, strong, and powerful. I have done what so many other people never have done and never will do. Whether it was bagging my first solo Wainwright in the Lake District, driving myself on the single-track roads around the Isle of Mull, walking all 84 miles of Hadrian’s Wall across the country, or getting Indefinite Leave to Remain as a victim of domestic abuse when everyone told me I had no chance, I’ve done everything this last year almost completely on my own. Seeing the strength of your actions reflected back to you or in hindsight is one of the most empowering experiences. I don’t know anyone else who would have made it through what I’ve been through.

I am the strongest person I know. And I am proud as fuck to be that person.

Men are pigs, and they lie.

About a decade ago, an old friend and I were at her cabin and went for dinner with her aunt and step-uncle. I was talking about some guy and whatever “drama” was happening that week. And this man, possibly the wisest man I have ever met, looked at me and just said, “men are pigs, and they lie.” What an absolute LEGEND. This has literally been my new life motto this last year – to be honest, I don’t know why it ever stopped being my life motto! I even have it on a sign hanging on my living room wall. No, I know not all men are pigs – I have a select few men in my life who I know are not pigs. But this is the assumption I operate on now that my trust and faith has been completely decimated and it’s helped me this last year.

One day at a time: this is how I have survived.

I look back at the last terrible year and a bit, and I have no idea how I’m still alive. I was barely alive for so long, I didn’t think I could keep going, there were times when I saw no light at the end of the tunnel. But somehow, I made it. Somehow, I survived.

When life was so overwhelming, I focused all my energy on taking it one day at a time. Working through each day as it comes. Doing what I needed to do that day to get through. I’ve kept a journal and started every entry with a day count. It was my reminder: if I’d made it through 3 days, surely I could make it through 4? If I’d already made it through 30 days, surely I could make it to day 31? When I started getting into the hundreds, how could I stop when I’d come this far?

This is how I made it. When the future was too terrible and too overwhelming, I focused on each day at a time. Over time, the days added up. The days became weeks and months. And here I am, a year later, alive. Not just surviving, but truly thriving. Today is Day 365.

It gets better.

In July, I was talking to my parents and I called them liars. “You promised me it would get better,” I said. “You said it would get better, and it’s not getting better. When is it going to get better?!?” When you are in the darkness, when there is no light at the end of the tunnel, when you are in so much pain and feeling like there is no way out, it can be impossible to know that it gets better.

It gets better. I promise. I would not be saying it if it wasn’t true. If you feel there is no way out, there is always a way out. If you feel like no one will believe you, you are wrong – because I will always believe you. If you feel like it is never going to get better, that the pain is never going to lessen, that you can never get through it – please know, and I promise this with all my soul, that it gets better.

Believe me. It gets better.

A year ago I didn’t think I’d survive. I didn’t think I’d live to see this. I didn’t think I would ever be writing a post like this, because I didn’t think I’d make it.

But I’ve made it. I’ve made it through this year of hell. Of pain, misery, suffering. I have walked through the flames of hell and made it out the other side.

Thank you to every single person who has been there for me this last year. Who has reached out, who has helped me and supported me, who has simply cared. I, literally, would not be here without it.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart and I love you all so much.