Letter from the Editor: Let’s Exhale Together
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March always feels like the month where the world starts to exhale.
It’s the subtle shift you don’t fully notice until you do—light lingering in the afternoon, windows cracked open “just for a minute,” a sudden urge to clear a surface, sort a drawer, make a plan. March is movement. Not the loud, cinematic kind. The quiet kind. The kind that happens when you’re ready to stop holding your breath.
And when I think about movement—real movement, the kind you have to choose again and again—I think about my sister, Olivia.
If you know anything about what we do, you probably know the headline version: we built this work because we lived it. But the behind-the-scenes version is smaller and truer. It’s Olivia sitting at a kitchen table doing the math nobody wants to do. It’s Olivia making a list titled “What I can do today” when her nervous system is begging her to do nothing at all. It’s Olivia being a mom, being a professional, being a person in grief—and still finding ways to put language to the moment so other people feel less alone inside it.
People talk about divorce like it’s one decision. One conversation. One filing. One big dramatic scene.
But what I’ve watched Olivia live—and what I suspect you’re living, too—is that divorce is actually a hundred tiny decisions that you make while you’re tired. It’s the slow work of untangling. It’s the bravery of choosing clarity over confusion, even when clarity hurts. It’s the repeated act of saying: I am allowed to change my life.
March is the perfect month to talk about that because March doesn’t demand that you transform overnight. March doesn’t shame you for being in process. March simply asks: What’s ready to move? What’s ready to be seen? What’s ready to be sorted—gently, honestly, at your pace?
That’s why this issue is about the practical things that often carry the most emotional weight.
We’re talking about the “stuff,” yes—but we’re also talking about what the stuff represents. The home. The accounts. The routines. The invisible labor. The sentimental objects that feel like proof of a life you built. The paperwork you avoid because it makes everything feel real.
And we’re doing it the way Olivia does it: with language that tells the truth and holds your hand.
Because here’s what Olivia understands instinctively: you can’t divide what you can’t see. You can’t advocate for yourself around assets, budgets, custody schedules, or support needs if everything is still a blur. So this month is an invitation to bring things into focus—without panic, without perfection, without trying to become a different person just to survive this.
If you’re early in your divorce journey, I hope this issue feels like a flashlight. Not a verdict. Not a push. Just a little light: Here’s what this means. Here’s what matters. Here’s what to ask. Here’s how to take one step without spiraling.
And if you’re later in the journey—if you’re rebuilding, reorganizing, reinventing—I hope it feels like company. A reminder that progress doesn’t always look like confidence. Sometimes progress looks like reading one article and finally understanding what a term means. Sometimes progress looks like making one phone call. Sometimes progress looks like throwing out a folder you no longer need because that chapter is closed.
March is often when people start to feel the first flicker of: Maybe I can do this.
Not in a forced, inspirational way. In a real way. The kind that still includes tears, still includes fear, still includes unanswered questions. But also includes movement.
So wherever you are right now—messy middle, quiet beginning, exhausted aftershock—I want you to hear this clearly:
You don’t have to do everything this month. You just have to do the next true thing.
Also while we’re talking about Olivia, it feels notable to let you know her birthday is this month (March 15!) so if you get a chance wish her a happy birthday.
With love and one step at a time,
Genevieve “Jenny” Dreizen, Editor in Chief
