I might be putting on my Covergirl Full ‘N Soft mascara, but right now, it’s doing more than lifting my lashes—it’s lifting my spirit, bit by bit.
This isn’t a tutorial. Not really. Yes, I’ll be sharing the makeup I’ve been using lately—budget-friendly, accessible products that help me feel pulled together, even when life feels like it’s coming apart at the seams. But more than that, I want to talk about what’s underneath the concealer. The real stuff.
I’m in the hardest part of my divorce right now. If you read my first post, you already know some of the story. I won’t linger here—just know this: some endings take longer to live through than you expect. They don’t arrive cleanly wrapped. Sometimes they unravel you piece by piece before they give way to anything new.
In March, I moved back to Canada after living in Georgia for years. I came back with two of my three daughters—my oldest is still finishing university in the U.S. My middle daughter has started university here, and my youngest, who’s just 15, in high school.
This next part is hard to write, and even harder to live through: my youngest daughter has decided to return to Georgia. She misses the life we had there—her friends, the familiarity, the comfort. It’s completely understandable, especially at her age. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Watching her prepare to leave again, knowing how much I wanted her to feel at home here, is one of the most painful parts of this whole journey.
I’ve had to make peace with what I can’t control. I came back to Canada because I couldn’t afford healthcare in the U.S. post divorce, and because I needed a reset. But moving countries, restarting your life in your 50s, and parenting through it all while your finances are still unresolved—it’s no small feat. And some days, it’s nothing short of overwhelming.
During my marriage, my life became smaller in ways I didn’t fully notice at the time. Looking back, I see how I contributed to that shrinking, and it became even smaller during COVID. And it wasn’t until recently that I realized just how isolated I’d become. When you’ve had a partner, even a difficult one, there’s a built-in kind of company. Someone else in the room. Someone else to share the mundane with. The absence of that presence can be loud at times.
But here’s the good news: I’m slowly rebuilding. Bit by bit, brick by brick.
I’ve started reconnecting with old friends, and I’ve made new ones—unexpectedly, at the dog park. My dog, Bean, has been an absolute gift. He gets me out of the house on days when I’d rather stay curled under the covers. He’s also led me into the quiet rhythms of community, the casual hellos, and the deeper conversations that follow.
I’ve also laced up my skates and returned to the ice, feeling both familiar and brand new.I’ve been a figure skater since I was a child, but it had been a while since I tied up my skates. Then one April afternoon at the rink, a woman approached me and asked if I’d consider trying out for the adult synchronized skating team. I survived two tryouts without falling on my face. Apparently, that’s the bar—because I made the team. It felt wildly outside of my comfort zone at 57—but I went —and I made it.
It’s a group of strong, funny, real women, and I already know this season will be more than just competition. It’s a new chapter. It’s movement. It’s momentum.
If you’re a woman in midlife—especially post-divorce, post-move, post-whatever you’ve just survived—I want to say this clearly: community matters. Female friendship matters. Movement matters. Mascara helps, sure. But connection is everything.
This next stage of life isn’t just about reinvention. It’s about reconnection. With ourselves, with each other, and with the parts of us we’d tucked away for too long.
If you’re in that space too, you’re not alone.
We can do hard things. Together.
Tracey 💕
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