My (former marriage) therapist came to my wedding.

I carry with me a lot of shame about having been married prior to Brad. More than three years later, the word “divorce” still feels dirty in my mouth.

I never thought it would be me.

I mean, I know nobody who marries intends to divorce, but I really, really meant it. I never thought I’d find myself divorced. Marriage was too sacred. A younger version of me cared significantly more about protecting the sacrament of matrimony than being happy. I try to offer that younger version of me a lot of compassion. She was lost. I was lost.

There is a quote that, unfortunately, I can relate to all too well:

“Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it.”

Our divorce is not from my lack of fighting for our marriage. In hindsight, I wish I had had the grace to let him go without claw marks in his back. Begging your spouse to stay is a lonely, soul-crushing experience.

That’s why it took a lot of courage for me to stumble into our therapist’s office by myself.

“As you can see, I am here alone,” I said, upon entering. Those words were the hardest I have ever uttered. For me, at that time, I was admitting defeat — the biggest loss of my life.

Up until that point, I had only seen Joyce as one part of a couple. I had reached out to her months prior in a desperate attempt to save our marriage. And so, Joyce had always said that “the marriage” was her client.

Well, with no marriage to be salvaged, I became the client. Me. Lauren. My best interests.

So, we got to work. And work we did. It was hard. It was painful. It was years-long. Brad attended multiple sessions.

On April 3, 2025, I sat down in Joyce’s office for the final time. Our time together had come to an end — not because I was moving states, but rather, because the work we had set out to do was complete.

I had learned to love myself.

Two days later, she attended my and Brad’s wedding – not as my therapist, but as my friend.

Talk about a full-circle experience.