Time to start celebrating accomplishments

June 04, 2025

Yesterday, as we finished a year long creative project, Darya looked at me and said something that landed deep:
"It's time we start celebrating our accomplishments more."

It stopped me in my tracks. She was right. We've come so far—just the two of us, side by side, rebuilding from the ashes into something meaningful, magical, and ours.

But here’s the truth: I don’t often let myself celebrate. Somewhere, in the rusted machinery of an old paradigm, there's a voice that still whispers I haven't done enough. That I'm lazy. That I’m not allowed to rest.

Logically, I know it's not true. But trauma doesn’t care about logic. It carves grooves in the nervous system and runs on auto-pilot. I’ve lived in survival mode for so long that rest can feel like rebellion. And yet—every day—I rebel a little more.

Here’s what most people don’t know:

For years, I was the sole provider in my marriage. I worked four days in the salon, and the rest running a successful photography business from home. I worked nights and weekends. I cooked. I cleaned.  I did it all. 
And while I was working myself into the ground, my ex (who didn't really work) was playing the stock market with our entire savings, on top of maxing out the credit cards—without telling me.  Six figures! Gone in days.

Guess who paid the credit cards? Covered the bills? Made sure the kids never went without? Me. And guess who got yelled at for not doing enough? Also me.

Eventually, the stress caught up. I ended up in the ER with stroke symptoms. They found a brain aneurysm. That day cracked me wide open. Soon after, I had my first reading—the kind that rearranges your soul—and I knew: Change or die. It was that clear.

So I did the bravest thing I’ve ever done: I said enough! I stood up for myself and my girls. And I walked away from the chaos that was killing me.

But freedom doesn’t come without cost.

When we entered mediation, I believed it would be fair and less expensive. But the mediator—a friend of my ex that insisted we use—backed me into a corner. She pressured me to sign an agreement I didn’t fully understand, saying, “You know what these Middle Eastern men do in these situations…You need to sign and walk away.”
That moment still haunts me. I wasn’t offered space for another opinion. I wasn’t protected. I was cornered, threatened, and exhausted. And I signed.

I took on full financial responsibility for our home and business—every payment, every tax bill, full custody, and no shared support. I was already paying for everything anyway, so I thought: How hard can this be?

Hard. Very hard.

He refused to refinance. He kept his name on both properties and drained $30,000 from a home equity line—money I didn’t even know was accessible. And I still kept paying.

Eventually, I tried to buy him out. He stalled, got inflated appraisals, and dragged it through court until we needed new appraisals. My stress level was through the roof.

Then came the final blow: he wanted everything,
All the Persian carpets. No repayment of shared loans. No help with the kids’ extracuricular activites. No spliting major house repairs. All of these he was respsonsible for in our agreement.  Inflated appraisal vlaues on the properties...The only way he would settle was to get it all.

And I gave it to him.
I paid the loan to his brother, gave him all the carpets, paid what he demanded for the properties. I had just weeks to come up with hundreds of thousands of dollars.

When it was over, the total was close to $300,000.
I didn’t have it.
So I took out a business loan.
I remortgaged both properties.
And now, I’m paying it off—for the next thirty years—essentially making a third mortgage payment every month.

That was the cost of my freedom. And it is priceless.

The abuse ran deeper than I’ve written here. The trauma, still unwinding. But every day, I keep showing up. I work 3–4 days behind the chair. I run a full business with my daughter by my side—teaching, healing, creating products, mentoring, managing inventory, creating sacred space for others, hosting events, supporting our community, and more.

And still, sometimes I feel like I’m not doing enough. That’s the wiring I’m healing. But I’m here. I’m thriving. I’m leading. I’m raising daughters who are strong and sovereign. I’m building a legacy from love, grit, and spiritual fire.

So yes, it’s time we start celebrating our accomplishments.
Because what we’ve created—after everything—is nothing short of a miracle.

I am so damn proud of us!

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