Powdered Sugar

White specks of concentrated sweetness adorn my black off-the-shoulder top. Joss Stone soulfully croons in the background and I'm reminded of being an 18-year-old co-ed with no real worries -- or Friday classes -- in the world. Life comes at you fast.

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It's hard to believe I am here. In this mental space, in this apartment, in this neighborhood, in this state -- in Charlotte.

But, here I am. A 31-year-old divorcee rebuilding my life in a place where I had no friends or family. I could go on and on about what brought me to the Queen City but, instead, I will give you the Cliff Notes version of my story (find the entire ugly raw story here). Much of it is miraculous, the rest of it is redundant.

My ex-husband cheated on me. A lot of spouses cheat on their significant (that's a funny word to use here) others - I am aware. There is nothing special about me or my situation.

He cheated. He lied. He tried to cover it all up. But, what he couldn't hide was the pregnancy his actions produced -- or the ugly toll it, and his lack of trying, would take on our marriage. Around the time that my ex-husband was holding on to this heart-breaking secret, we learned we would have to move as our landlord had placed her house on the market, he lost his job, and there was a lot of stress placed on our breaking backs.

What a lot of people DON'T know is that my then-husband tried to divorce me first. Instead of being honest about his transgressions, he made it seem like our marriage was beyond repair with the line one high-school sweetheart feeds the other as they head to colleges on opposite sides of the country, "It's not you, it's me." The confusion I felt in that season was immeasurable. I remember begging him to explain himself while I panicked.

I ran to church, I ran to clergy -- I fell to my knees in despair. And I fought like my life depended on it to save my marriage, only to wake up, one day, and realize I was fighting alone. He said he wanted to make it work and save us. But I'm the one who sought out the therapist, the new place to live, helped him created his resume and apply for new jobs, I'm the one who continued to take my stepdaughters to church, get them ready for school, and help them with their homework after school -- soul-broken the entire time. I did it all. I continued to do it all. I was alone the entire time.

On February 14, 2016, after writing out Valentine's Day cards for my stepdaughters, going to church, and crying all the way home, I told my my ex I planned to file for divorce. He sat on the couch, staring into his phone and said, "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope you know I loved you and I will always love you."

Hmph.

Fast-forward a year and here I am in Charlotte. The place where God called me to be. To share my story with others and continue to counsel, uplift, and motivate others. My father jokingly calls me "Storm Chaser" as I moved here on the heels of a major hurricane. But, I just had to move on. And that's exactly what I did.

I've experienced a plethora of wins and losses since moving here but I've never felt more at home in my life. I know this is the city for me. Charlotte has been a place of rebirth for me. I discover more about myself almost daily and my testimony grows stronger with each passing moment.

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I look down at the white dusting on my shirt and smile at the observation.

Mini powdered doughnuts are a staple treat for my very beautiful, strong, and resilient mother. As a kid, I used to watch her enjoy them -- simple, small bites of sweetness, one at a time. And, when things got messy, she would just shake it off. I feel my heart swell and and realize just how far I've come in a year's time.

Life is sweet. We can only take it one day -- or bite -- at a time. And, when it gets messy, we must simply do the unimaginable: shake. it. off.

-Asha