Mastering the Art of Starting Over

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It’s not as daunting as it might seem.

“There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning.” — Louis L’Amour

Recently, I passed a bittersweet anniversary. No, not the one from a few weeks back about my injury — although that one is so much easier to think about than this one. 

It was an anniversary related to falling in love with a lovely Englishman and I was preparing to move across the pond to marry him. 

I was about to begin an exciting new bi-continental life, still working and living part time in Calgary, but spending most of my time in England. It was the kind of “starting over” that is joyful, thrilling, exhilarating. 

And then there’s the kind that is anything but. 

That kind is one of the hardest things we’ll ever do. It takes courage, resilience, and faith — especially when the life we’d worked so hard to build suddenly crumbles beneath us.

I know because I’ve lived it.

After false starts and failed marriages, I was so sure I’d finally found my “happily ever after” with this lovely man in rural England. We lived in a charming 500-year-old stone cottage on the outskirts of a tiny, quiet village. Surrounded by rolling countryside, winding lanes, and a small lake a stone’s throw from our door, the life we’d created felt like a dream.

My years in that cottage and with that man were the happiest I’d ever known. 

I loved our evening glasses of wine in wing-back chairs by the fire, talking for hours. I loved cooking with him. Shopping with him. Just being with him, feeling his gentle presence and quiet strength was blissful. 

We had such fun, tearing up the cottage, restoring stone walls and original quarry tile floors, doing so much to the interior and to the garden to make it truly our home. I adored every creak of the floorboards, every gap in the windows, every quirky bit of character in our sweet home. I believed it was the foundation of something as enduring as the stones from which it had been built.

And suddenly, it wasn’t.

My life blew to smithereens on discovering two devastating secrets my husband had been keeping. The man I loved, the life I treasured, the beautiful home I’d poured my heart and soul into — it was all gone with a few simple, horrible words.

And there I stood amidst the rubble of the most beautiful life I could have ever imagined. One I never thought I could actually have. In one fell swoop, it was in ruins.

I didn’t just lose the marriage I had so appreciated and that had made me so happy. In the end, I would also lose everything I’d ever worked for. The beautiful cottage I adored, the home I’d owned in Calgary, and anything resembling financial stability.

I was so lost in the aftermath of that horrible time, I had no idea how to start over. I couldn’t even envision a first step.

All I could see was what I’d lost, and all I could think about was how to recreate it. I was so daunted; I was completely overwhelmed.

I soon realised that this was the wrong approach. I had to stop thinking about recreating what I’d lost. I had to give myself time to absorb what had happened, and to begin sifting through the rubble, deciding what was worth rebuilding, and what wasn’t. One piece at a time.

It wasn’t the first time I’d faced significant loss, but it was surely the greatest loss, and the most painful. And here’s what I’ve learned: 

It is essential to sit with your feelings. The grief, the bitterness, the anger… let them say what they need to say. Acknowledge them; they’re trying to help you process what happened. Give them a voice because if you try to ignore them, they’ll only shout louder to be heard.

Listen to them, say thank you, and let them go. Keep doing this when they show up, until eventually, they won’t have much to say and they’ll stop bothering you.

So you didn’t choose this situation. It sucks. I know. But you can choose what comes next. Open yourself up to possibilities you might not have seen or thought about, and trust that something better is waiting for you.

Starting over is messy. It’s imperfect. And it’s an art. It demands that you be vulnerable and willing to try new things and make mistakes. If you allow it, it can be a rebirth, an opportunity to discover new aspects of yourself and to create a new life that isn’t simply a reflection of what you lost. It can be a testament to what you’ve overcome.

There might be times you don’t feel strong enough or brave enough to do it, and that’s okay. Lean on your loved ones in those moments; they’ll support you till you can take that next step forward.

But I can promise you, you’ve got all the strength and courage you need. It’s right there inside you, whether you feel it or not. You’ll find them in repeatedly making the decision to keep going, no matter what. Just keep taking another deep breath and saying, “I can do this.” Keep putting one foot in front of the other and trusting you’ll get where you want to be.

And one day, you’ll look up and discover you’re there.