Fourteen years ago today, on October 29, 2010, I stepped into my new house for the first time. With my little silver house key in hand and a heart full of emotions, I turned the lock and stepped into the smell of fresh builders paint and the echo of an empty space.

After 22 years of marriage and in the early days of separation, I had bought a place of my own—a daunting, exhilarating accomplishment. I still remember sitting on the countertop in the kitchen, eating takeout from my favourite Indian restaurant that I’d grabbed on my way back from the lawyer’s office after picking up the keys. There I sat, with a plastic fork, surrounded by nothing but blank walls and big dreams, thinking, I did it, even though I couldn’t yet picture what lay ahead.

I was two years into the journey of my separation, heading towards divorce. Had I known then how long the process would take and how much strength it took to get through those years, I may have had more fear than faith. But on that day, I had more faith than fear – faith in myself and in the universe that things would be okay, that I would be okay, and that I could make this a beautiful home.

I had big plans: I wanted granite countertops, a fenced-in pretty flower garden, the best appliances, hardwood floors, and as much pink in my house as I could manage! I was determined that it would be a peaceful, safe space for me and my family.

A few weeks after moving in, my dog Sooty, went missing, there was no fence yet, and she escaped quickly through the back door. After searching high and low I took a chance and drove over to my old street. Sure enough, there she was, sitting patiently on the porch of my old home. She had crossed busy roads and through fields, past shops and school kids to get “home”. Waiting there as if to say, what kept you she reminded me of how natural it is to seek comfort in the familiar, even when we’ve chosen to step into something new. Building a new life isn’t easy, and in seeking something better, there’s often something we must let go of, a realization she helped bring to life that day.

Looking back now it wasn’t the granite countertops or the furniture that made this place feel like home. It was the people it housed and welcomed, the memories and moments that filled its rooms that gave it warmth and meaning. Over the years, this house has listened to laughter and we have filled this home with joy. It has witnessed heartbreak, held me as I grieved the loss of my beautiful mom, it has watched my kids and I study for exams, it has been visited by friends that became family, and it was our safe haven during COVID. I have had lots of evenings in my pretty garden, my kids graduated from this house, we’ve had birthday parties, celebrated countless holidays, and, yes, it’s had a lot of pink over the years. My house truly became our home.

Today my home now holds space for my psychotherapy practice, where I support other women navigating their own paths to independence and a sense of self through separation and divorce. My home has become a safe space for a thousand stories from my clients, witnessing the journeys of those brave enough to reclaim their lives, make changes, and build a new story. Like Sooty, some of them yearn for the familiarity of old lives, but with courage and patience, they find strength in new beginnings.

If you’re facing a difficult transition, remember that one day, you too will look back on your journey and see how strong you truly are. You will have more faith than fear and trust in your ability to navigate challenging times. I truly believe within each of us lies the strength to build and rebuild and to honour our journey in a way that finds us home.

Talk soon, Fran.