The Claudia Brown

“At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.” 

Eight years ago today, my husband told me he wanted a divorce.

If only I had been home more and spent less time at work, investing less in my students and more in my family—more in my husband — this wouldn’t have happened.

Eight years ago today, those words from my husband cut like a knife … because I knew he was right.

There had been many long days meeting deadlines, late nights, missed dinners … 

I was to blame. 

Two days later on June 3, I drove with a heavy heart to my college campus to host the Owlsy Awards, celebrating my students’ achievements with Owl Magazine. 

Locked in the office with Sydney, our Editor in Chief, my expression gave me away and the story came spilling out. Only a month ago I had told her I would be spending less time in the office because I was needed more at home. It was the first time I realized my marriage was in trouble, and now just a month later – my marriage was over. 

The time we had planned to prep for the awards passed quickly and a group of students had already gathered in the OwlCove, waiting on their host. 

The prospect of putting on a happy face and celebrating seemed comical in comparison to my mood. So when Jessica knocked on the office door inquiring when we would be getting started, I accepted defeat.

“Tell everybody something came up in my life and I’m not myself tonight, and I apologize!” I plead with her. 

Jessica just gave me an all-knowing look. “I got you,” she said.

Minutes continued to pass.

It was already 40 minutes past start time by the time I brushed on mascara and anxiously walked towards the Owlcove, fearing the response I would face. 

To my surprise, my arrival was mostly unnoticed by the groups of students and alums enjoying the catered dinner and laughing in small groups. 

I walked up to Jessica.

“Did you tell everybody?” 

She just looked at me and shook her head. 

“Did you tell everyone that I was off my game? To lower their standards and expect less from me tonight?”

Jessica gave me a sly smile as she laughed. “I didn’t tell them anything. I just took charge of the room until you got here.”

I stared at her dumbfounded.

She straightened her posture and looked me in the eye. “You got this, Claudia.”

I walked to the front of the room and the rest of the night became a beautiful blur. The positive energy from my students was infectious and the pit in my stomach actually gave way to moments of real joy. 

Later that month, my 15th wedding anniversary loomed like a heavy cloud. A magazine meeting was scheduled and I considered cancelling. 

How could I possibly keep it together?

Bre made sure that was the case. 

She gifted me a beautiful bouquet of flowers, while Sydney brought a cake. We celebrated my “anti-anniversary,” as they coined it —and not a single tear was shed.

Meanwhile that summer, Rachel just kept telling me that *I had to go to a burn!*  

It would change my life. I could tell people my story there, and they would want to hear it.  

I had first heard of the Burning Man community when Rachel suggested a story idea for our “Self-Sufficiency” issue. While it made for a great story pitch, attending a burn wasn’t on my personal bucket list.

But Rachel persisted.

And so, I went to a burn. By the following year, I had gained a new circle of like-minded friends. 

John M. was working on a travel feature about his journeys in Peru, and he encouraged me to view the uncertainties that lie ahead as an “adventure,” a perspective that continues to guide me well.

John P. told me I should model the example of Jim Carey and say “yes” to new experiences as I struggled to find my way. 

Phil was always there to lend a sympathetic ear – and recommend a good therapist, who I still see on a regular basis.

Steph watched my children so I could have my first girls’ night out in decades. 

Matt was a rock. “You’re a strong woman,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders and a nod of his head. “You’ll get through this.” Then he became my colleague, joining me for video shoots and writing workshops and providing leadership that consistently led to national recognition.

Faras cheered me from the sidelines, always believing in my potential and offering new opportunities for me to spread my wings, from a brief appearance in a music video to an hour-long podcast interview. 

For so long, I berated myself for misplaced priorities and what could have been. 

But every time I would struggle to come up for air, it was a former student who threw me a lifeline. 

All the energy I invested through the years came back to me tenfold when I was in my time of greatest need. 

When one door closes, another one opens …