Policy & Practice | Summer 2026

y divorce took me one step forward and ten steps back. Within the mere seconds it took the judge to pound his weathered gavel against the small wooden block on his desk, everything I had held dear for the last 13 ½ years was gone. My marriage was over. My household income was drastically reduced. And I had two kids, ages 3 and 6, who were confused and devastated by the separation of our family. Life was moving fast and I was just trying to keep up with all of the shifting pieces while tending to my own broken heart. Honestly, it was exhausting. Crumpled in grief and weeping on a tattered orange sofa in the women’s bathroom of the damp courthouse basement, I pondered my choices. I knew I had reached a defining moment. I had just officially left an emotionally abusive marriage and I couldn’t go back. My response to my current circumstances would determine the future for not only myself, but my children. I could choose to wallow in self-pity and bitterness. Or I could get up and keep it moving by any means necessary. I chose to get up. M

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Summer 2026 Policy & Practice