Reinventing Myself After the Kids Move Out (and After Divorce)

So, here I am, rattling around in this big, empty house, wondering, “What the hell just happened?” Not long ago, my life was a circus of kids’ friends and girlfriends, School of Rock gigs, and trying to keep everyone fed and alive. But now? The kids have flown the coop, and I’m newly single. Thanks, life, for the plot twist.

It feels… weird. My whole world used to revolve around them—kids, spouse, our busy little family life. Friends were made, and weekends were swallowed by School of Rock. And now, I have so much “me time,” I don’t even know what to do with it. For the first time ever, I’m left with this terrifying question: What do I actually want?

Sure, I could jump back into work. But doing what? The job market’s changed, and—surprise—I have, too. The stuff I used to love now sounds about as exciting as watching paint dry. Do I stick with what I know, or do I go completely rogue? The thought is exciting… and also makes me want to hide under the covers.

For the last 12 years, my book blog was my job, my baby, my identity. Now, it’s a non-paying hobby, and I’ve got bills to pay. And let’s be real—book blogging just isn’t what it used to be. Reinventing myself sounds fabulous on paper, but it’s not just about finding a new gig. It’s about figuring out who the hell I am now that I’m not Mom or Mrs. Somebody. It’s about making friends who aren’t tied to School of Rock or my son’s band, and finding something besides books that I’m actually passionate about, and being okay with not knowing what that is just yet.

I miss the chaos of the kids being around, and yeah, even the “We should talk” conversations of marriage. But there’s a weird freedom in this phase, too. I can take a class on something random, start a project I never had time for, or just savor a cup of coffee without anyone asking where their shoes are. It’s a chance to focus on me for the first time in forever, and that feels… bizarrely good.

But of course, with all this freedom comes the pressure to figure out what’s next. And let’s be honest—it’s overwhelming. The world is wide open, but I’m not sure where the hell I’m headed. Do I try something completely new, or cling to the familiar like a safety blanket? How do I make friends now that I don’t organize book signings and don’t have School of Rock gigs? And most importantly, who am I outside of the roles I’ve been playing for so long?

Sure, I’ve still got my book world friends, and dancing with the Deadheads is a blast. But that’s not cutting it. As fun as these things are, they don’t fill the void of what’s missing. I’m searching for something more—a next chapter that doesn’t just feel like a sequel to the same old story.

Here’s what I’m learning: It’s okay to not have it all figured out (shocking, I know). Reinventing myself is going to take time, trial, error, and a lot of “What was I thinking?” moments. I don’t need all the answers today, tomorrow, or even next week. But I do need to start somewhere.

So here I am, stepping into this new chapter with a cocktail of excitement, nerves, and a little bit of “What the hell.” The kids are off living their lives, the marriage is in the rearview, and now it’s my turn. Time to explore, to screw up, and to find out who I am beyond the labels I’ve worn. It’s time to reinvent, rediscover, and reclaim this next stage of life—one snarky step at a time.