Reinventing Confidence After Divorce

Everyone says divorce is rough. But they haven’t heard how rough my divorce was. My divorce literally left me with nothing.

And I couldn’t be more grateful. Let me tell you why.

I was married to someone in finance who worked hard and played hard. And I mostly turned a blind eye to his escapades because I was living like a reality show housewife, but without all the drama and the cameras.

He could take every other weekend in Vegas if that meant that I could spend my time doing as I pleased, too. And I did as I pleased. I got really good at making mixed drinks. I took my girlfriends on safaris. I built a pilates studio in my home.

But my true passion was haute couture. Not just going to fashion shows and ogling the designers. No, I was learning how to sew in the haute couture style. I was halfway through a three-year specialization program in Italy (which was no easy thing, being the oldest person in all of my classes) when I got an email from my ex stating that he was going to be filing for divorce so that he could marry the “girl of his dreams.” The girl of the moment, maybe. I tipped my hat off to her.

Getting into the details of the divorce is just depressing, so let me just put it simply. We had signed a prenup when we married, which I didn’t fully understand. So, I was left with nothing. I had to drop out of my program and move in with my aunt in Texas. He took my dog. He sold all of my clothes. He rescinded my memberships to the social clubs we were in, and he told all of our mutual friends that the divorce was because I had deserted him to go play fashion designer in Europe.

And I’ll never forget the day when the divorce papers finally went through, and I had the worst panic attack I’ve ever had. It landed me in the hospital. And from there, I developed a case of vertigo that the doctors said was triggered by my severe stress episode. I couldn’t sit down at a sewing machine for more than a few minutes at a time.

See what I mean? It was rough.

My vertigo made it very difficult for me to do anything, let alone get a job. But I’ll admit this, I was lucky that my aunt was a very well-off woman. She lived below her means because she was smart with her money. The only luxury she really allowed herself was a wardrobe full of fine clothing that I remember being too afraid to touch as a little girl.

Now, my aunt was elderly and needed constant care, so moving in with her was a blessing for us both. My vertigo didn’t prevent me from being able to help her with daily tasks, and we got along well. She let me complain as much as I wanted to about my ex, at least at first. But after a couple of months, she told me that I needed to start looking for a job outside of the house. I needed to become independent again; it was the only thing that would fix a broken heart, according to her.

I started looking into becoming a fashion consultant for clients in Austin. I had a background in it before I jetted off to Italy, so it wasn’t so difficult to step back into the field. Of course, these days, the clientele wasn’t what I was used to. Everyone seemed to be an up-and-coming podcaster or internet influencer. It was a whole new world for me, and I was still deeply insecure and hurt from the divorce. But I was getting the hang of it.

One of my earliest clients was Devin, a podcaster and comedian with an adorable Texas drawl that I thought might have been a bit of a show. He was moderately successful within the Austin creative scene, and he said he wanted a fashion consultant because he had gotten some negative feedback online about the outfits in his viral videos.

Devin was half my age (okay, a little bit more), but from the moment we met each other, we clicked. He had no fashion sense, bless his heart. But he could light up a room with a single line. And people liked to listen to him. I liked to listen to him. It wasn’t long before our professional relationship became a physical one.

After listening to Devin’s standup, I made some gentle changes to his wardrobe. Nothing too crazy. He was an easy client. Never rejected any of my suggestions.

I remember that one day he sent me a screenshot of the comments under his latest video that he had posted online. And my heart sank because a lot of the comments were quite harsh. Things like, “this guy isn’t funny” or “recycled jokes, but at least his delivery is also bad.” I’ve always been shocked at how cruel people can be online.

But Devin called me right afterwards, and his tone seemed downright ecstatic.

“I’m not understanding something,” I told him. “The feedback seems kind of negative.”

“Yes,” he replied. “But they’re finally talking about my material. Not my clothes. You did it!”

He told me that this was the push he needed to start planning a comedy tour.

We went out that night to celebrate. Secretly, I was more relieved than I could tell Devin. I had been worried that I would fail at this fashion consultant gig just like I had failed at my marriage. Just as I was feeling to get my vertigo under control. I had packed away my sewing machine just so that I wouldn’t be constantly reminded that I couldn’t use it.

I hadn’t told Devin much about my background, but he was in such a good mood, and he wanted to know how I had become such a fashion expert. Maybe it was because of the champagne, but I ended up telling him everything. It was a night that I’ll always remember as one that brought us closer together.

I’ll also always remember that night because it was when my aunt passed. It was peaceful and painful, the doctors assured me, but I was, of course, heartbroken and even more stricken than before. Now I really felt like I had no one left. Sure, things with Devin were nice, but he wasn’t my boyfriend. Still, he was the only one I really talked to, so I called him up, and he helped me through the next few weeks of arrangements.

As it turns out, my aunt left the majority of her assets to me. I was suddenly in a much better financial position than I had been even in my marriage. And I was at once extremely relieved, still grieving, and even more anxious than before. Would my ex-husband try to come back into my life now? Would Devin suddenly want to accelerate our relationship? Would I mess everything up and lose all of my aunt’s hard-earned savings?

The stress made my vertigo debilitating. And I found myself canceling almost all of my client meetings, including with Devin. I was getting embarrassed about him seeing me in this state.

But Devin came anyway, right to the house. He had a casserole with him.

As we sat at the kitchen table and I tried to control my breathing to lessen the vertigo, Devin gave me a serious look.

“I’m cancelling my tour. I don’t think you should be alone right now. It doesn’t sit right with me. Plus, it was going to be a disaster anyway. It was going to put me in the hole, which everyone says is fine because it pays off later, but I don’t know. It’s just not the right time.”

I was quiet, but I knew that I would have to figure out a way to convince him not to stay. That staying would just make things worse. I told him I’d think about it and that we could talk about it tomorrow. But I wasn’t feeling well and would like to be alone.

I did think about it. I thought about it all night. And when Devin came back in the morning, I had an envelope with a check in it to give him. It was enough to cover the costs of the tour so that he didn’t have to put himself into debt over it. The envelope also had the keys to my aunt’s van that she hadn’t driven in decades but had always kept in good shape.

“What about you? I’m not leaving you like this” Devin asked.

My bags were already packed.

“I’m not going to be here, babe,” I told him. “My plane leaves tomorrow afternoon. I’m going back to Italy. And don’t worry, I’m not trying to escape my problems or anything like that. I’m checking myself into a rehabilitation center to help with my anxiety and my vertigo. And when I’ve got myself back together, I’m going to finish my program.”

Over the next two years, Devin’s career took off, and I was generous with my aunt’s money to make sure that he was going after his dreams without hesitation. On my end, I worked through my grief and my anxiety, and my vertigo became less and less of a problem. It would still pop up every once in a while, but that was usually a reminder that I was being too hard on myself.

Thankfully, I was able to get back to my sewing machine and my studies. And because I had almost had the dream of being a fashion designer ripped away, I found myself stronger and more determined the second time around. I had my confidence back, and I was never going to let my own insecurities get in the way again.