I Found Myself as a Lost Child in Barcelona
I took a real pause after divorce, not the fake kind where you still answer emails and replay court conversations in your head, but a true reset where thinking stopped, and living started. My daughter and I deserved it. After years of trauma, rebuilding trust, repairing our relationship, and rebuilding a life from scratch, we needed something grounding and unforgettable. I let her plan most of the trip, and it ended up being one of the best decisions I’ve made in a long time.
We traveled to Rome, where my dad’s family originated in Pisa, and standing there felt surreal. We held up the Leaning Tower, climbed Mount Vesuvius, and walked through Pompei, where time stopped mid-breath. From there, we moved on through other parts of Italy, France, and Spain for weeks. What surprised me most wasn’t the history or the beauty, but the way pain sounded the same in every language. Everywhere we went, when people asked what I do, and I shared that I work in divorce support, the response was immediate and emotional. Different accents, same heartbreak. “I wish I had you when I was going through my divorce.”
Then Barcelona happened. We were walking through El Raval on a tour when I noticed a little girl, maybe four years old, standing in the middle of the square in a pink shirt with her face covered in tears and snot. She was frozen in fear, screaming so hard she was choking, while people walked right past her. There was no parent in sight and no one stopping to help. I knelt, held my hand out, and tried to reassure her, telling her it was okay and that I would help her find her mom. I could tell she heard me, but fear had completely locked her body. My daughter was calling my name because our tour group was moving on, and she knew I wasn’t leaving that child.
After what felt like forever but was probably five to ten minutes, a group of women with other children came over. The little girl screamed, “Mom,” and ran to them. Relief hit instantly. I explained that I had stayed with her and tried to help her find them, and they smiled, said nothing, spoke to the child, and walked away. It was a happy ending for her and a strange one for me. There was no acknowledgment, no words, and suddenly my daughter and I were alone, separated from our tour group in an unfamiliar city. That moment stayed with me long after we returned home.
Because that terrified little girl was me. That was me in my marriage when things turned dark, and that was me in my divorce when I didn’t know which way was up. I was screaming for help while people walked past, unsure, uncomfortable, or unwilling. My mom didn’t know what to do because no one in our family had been through a divorce, so she told me to give it to the Lord. Sometimes the Lord was on holiday, and I had to rely on myself, professionals, and one single point of contact, my attorney. She told me plainly that she handled the business side and didn’t have time to coach the emotional side, and she wasn’t wrong. Divorce is a business, and emotions make it expensive.
Divorce turns capable, educated, emotionally intelligent adults into terrified children overnight. Some people freeze, some fight, some collapse, and most bounce between all three. That is exactly why I do this work. No one should have to scream alone in the middle of chaos while money drains, decisions pile up, and no one explains what’s happening or what comes next. I refuse to let my people choke on fear and confusion when support and clarity can change the entire trajectory of their divorce.
Now that I’m home, I’m taking this calling to a new level. There are people everywhere who are hurting, recovering, and completely unsure where to turn when their life detonates. I’ve been through the fire, and I didn’t come out polished. I came out forged. If you are standing frozen in your own storm, hear this clearly. You are not weak, you are not dramatic, and you are not failing. You are human, and this time, you do not have to do it alone.
Melissa Lost in Barcelona
Lost in Barcelona