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I’m Tanya.
Writer. Coach. Mother. Woman who rebuilt her life after divorce.
I didn’t set out to write a book about divorce.
I set out to survive it.
There was a time when my daughter was one year old and I was sitting on the floor at two in the morning,
writing what I couldn’t say out loud.
The pages weren’t meant for anyone else, they were my lifeline. Word by word, they helped me breathe again.
Those pages became Divorce Confessions — first a book, then a movement.
A gathering place for women who are learning to tell the truth about their lives, stay with what’s real,
and rebuild from the inside out.
What I Believe
Healing isn’t about fixing what broke. It’s about finding what still lives inside you — and giving it space to grow.
Every offering here — the book, the retreats, the coaching — grew from that same heartbeat: a rhythm I call FRAME — Feel. Recognize. Anchor. Move. Envision.
It wasn’t shaped from my experience alone, but in partnership with psychotherapists and trauma-informed practitioners who helped ensure it’s grounded, safe, and real.
It’s not a formula or a system. It’s how real healing sounds when women begin to listen to themselves again.
My Path Here
Before this work, I spent close to twenty years in leadership and consulting, helping organizations navigate change. After my marriage ended, I learned that the changes that matter most don’t happen in boardrooms — they happen in kitchens at midnight, in quiet conversations, in the moments we admit that we’re not fine.
During COVID, I founded Your Village, a community for single mothers holding everything alone. We built babysitting exchanges, meet-ups, and circles of care — because support shouldn’t be a luxury.
Then, I knew I needed to expand my impact. So I trained as a certified coach (ACC, ICF and EQ-I, EQ-360) and began walking beside women through every stage of divorce:
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The nights when breathing feels impossible.
Everything I’ve lived — the breaking, the rebuilding, the mothering, the coaching — comes with me into this work.
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The long middles when you’re carrying too much.
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The quiet after, when you start asking who you are now.
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