I was the woman who whispered, "I can't do this anymore."

I remember sitting in the driveway with my car packed,

hands shaking on the steering wheel not sure if I was strong or just done.

I left the marriage.

I left the life I thought would last forever.

I left the version of me who had been surviving for too long.

I was exhausted.

I was broke.

I was a ghost in my own story.

But leaving isn't the end-

it's the first step toward becoming.

I built Rot. Eat. Move. not because I knew the way,

but because I clawed through the dark without a map.

Now this is a map.

Not glossy reinvention.

Not hustle.

Just survival softened.

Just the next right step.

Just a way home.

If you are the girl who had to leave,

there's a seat here for you.

Tea on the table.

A fire burning.

And the promise that you don't have to wander alone anymore.

With love from the crooked cottage.

-Mel