“If they were to get out of that situation, then this will all have been worth it,” I said quietly to a friend.

And in that moment, clarity found me.

I realized that everything I was doing-every act of courage, every painful truth spoken-was rooted in love. I’m doing my absolute best to lead with love, kindness, and empathy. To step out of my own shoes and to see the world through someone else’s eyes.

Because if I can do that, then maybe-just maybe-that glass house will break.

There’s a saying: “People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
It’s meant to remind us not to criticize others when we ourselves are flawed. But what I learned in my marriage was that sometimes it’s not about hypocrisy at all- it’s about illusion.

My ex-husband loved to throw stones, always believing he stood above judgment. And me? I silently hoped that one day, someone would throw one back hard enough to shatter the house entirely.

Because glass doesn’t just reveal- it distorts. It bends light, hides cracks, and creates reflections that can make lies look like truth.

From the outside, our life looked perfect: the smiles in family photos, the polite conversations, the well-kept image of success and stability. But behind the shimmer of that glass, everything was crumbling.

Eighteen years of performing. Of doing and saying the right things. Of keeping up appearances because reputation was everything.

I was living a life that wasn’t my own- a life controlled, dictated, and manipulated.

And all I wanted was to be seen.
To be seen in my pain. In my loneliness. In my quiet pleas for help.

But nothing came.

So, one day, I stopped waiting for someone else to break the glass.
I did it myself.

People often fear what happens when their struggles become public knowledge. They fear being exposed, judged, misunderstood.

But here’s the beautiful truth: when people finally understand what was happening to you, freedom rushes in.

Yes, there’s vulnerability in being seen- but there’s also healing. Because when the glass shatters, the illusion breaks too.

I saw this happen with my friend Connor- you’ll read more about him in my book. Connor’s story mirrors his in so many ways: the emotional abuse, the manipulation, the gaslighting. 

There’s a tragic script that abusers follow, and Connor’s wife played her part well- denying everything, twisting truth into accusation, turning his pain into supposed “insecurity.”

The pain inside his glass house was palpable.

But the day he allowed me to call his family- the day he stopped protecting the illusion and let the truth out- everything began to change. That was the day his glass house shattered.
And in that breaking, light finally entered.

Now, as I think about what it means to truly advocate for myself, strangely enough, I still find myself wanting good things for him.

Yes, that’s love- speaking softly through the ache.

Because maybe this breaking isn’t just for me.
Maybe it’s also for him.

Maybe this is what he needs to finally see clearly, to step into his own truth, to be free.

If he can see this not as retaliation but as one last act of love, then maybe this won’t be a fight- it will be a beginning.

A catalyst for change.
A moment when he can say, “This was the start of my new life.”

And if that happens,
then yes-
it will all have been worth it.

with all my love, xoxo J