It was just six days ago, that I signed the final paperwork.

After eleven months of navigating a divorce as my own attorney - while growing my business, running a household with teens, young adults, pets, and all the chaos that comes with it - it officially ended. The settlement hearing is done. The documents are filed. I am legally, officially divorced.

And I don't feel like the movies said I would.

There's no montage of me throwing out old photos set to an empowering soundtrack. I'm not standing on a mountaintop with my arms spread wide, ready to embrace my new chapter. I'm just... here. Still standing. Still processing. Still building my business. Still showing up.

Maybe you can relate - launching a business while life is giving you one curveball after another isn't easy. And if that's you, know that you're not alone.

The chapter closed. I don't know what's next. And I don't have to have the answer today.

You don't need all the answers today either. You just need to take it one day, one step, one incremental improvement in your life at a time.

When the Tradition Doesn't Match the Memory

We're heading into Thanksgiving - a holiday built on the premise that we gather around tables overflowing with food and gratitude, surrounded by people we love, feeling blessed and whole and ready to count our blessings.

And for some people, that's a close reality. Also, I'm genuinely happy for them.

But for a lot of us? Thanksgiving is complicated.

For me, it's watching how family traditions have shifted and faded. The large gatherings at my grandmother's house - her basement packed with aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, the kind of chaos that felt like home - those just don't happen anymore. Since she passed, we've all scattered. Maybe we weren't as good at organizing it as she was. Maybe we didn't prioritize it the same way. Maybe geography pulled us apart, or our partners' family obligations took precedence. Probably it's all of those things combined.

But this time of year, I feel the absence of it. That nostalgia for what was - those loud, messy, beautiful gatherings - sits alongside the reality that some chapters close whether we're ready or not. Even the good ones.

And that's just one layer of what makes this season complicated.

Maybe you're navigating family dynamics full of friction. Maybe you're pretending everything is fine when it's very much not. Maybe you're dreading the questions about your job, your relationship status, your life choices. Maybe you're managing grief, chronic illness, financial stress, or the exhausting performance of masking who you really are just to get through dinner without conflict.

Maybe - like me - you're walking into this holiday in a completely different reality than you were last year, and you're still figuring out what that even means.

Those 'Hallmark' holiday movies sell us escapism. Real life doesn't tie itself up with a neat bow. There's no guaranteed happy ending just because the calendar says it's time to be grateful. Sometimes the hard thing ends and you're left standing in the wreckage, still catching your breath, wondering what comes next.

Here's What Showing Up Really Looks Like

Here's what I've learned after 11 months of brutal:

Showing up doesn't look like having it all figured out.

It doesn't look like being healed, optimized, or "on the other side" of your struggle.

It looks like signing paperwork with shaking hands and then getting up the next day to run your business anyway.

It looks like managing a household, supporting your kids, and building something meaningful while your personal life is being deconstructed piece by piece.

It looks like sitting down to write this post six days after your divorce is finalized, not because you have inspirational wisdom to share, but because you know someone else needs to hear: You don't have to have this figured out.

I don't know what my next chapter looks like. I'm not going to pretend I've got some grand plan or that I'm "grateful for the journey" or any of the other platitudes people expect you to perform when something hard ends.

What I do know is this: I'm still here. I kept building. I kept showing up. The storm was brutal, I'm still soaking wet from it, and I'm still standing.

And if you're in your own storm right now - whatever it is - that's enough. Just being here is enough.

Permission to Not Be Fine

If you're dreading tomorrow, you're not alone.

If you're navigating rough waters and you don't have the answers yet, you're not broken.

If you're tired of performing gratitude when what you really feel is exhaustion, grief, or just... numbness, that's valid.

You don't owe anyone an inspirational transformation story. You don't have to show up tomorrow with a smile plastered on, pretending everything is perfect. You don't have to know what comes next.

The chapter closed. The next one hasn't been written yet. And that's okay.

Calmer Seas Ahead

I don't know when the calm comes. I don't know what it will feel like when I finally stop feeling like I'm treading water. But I do know this: the storm passes. It doesn't last forever, even when it feels like it will.

So if you're navigating your own rough waters this season - divorce, loss, transition, uncertainty, or just the grinding weight of showing up when everything feels hard - I see you. You're doing it. You're still here.

And that's more than enough.

Wishing you peace, wherever you are in your journey.

Happy Thanksgiving.

- Claudine