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A text message changed my life. On the evening of September 7, 2008, I opened my husband’s cell phone while he was in the shower to read: 

 

"I can’t wait ’till you’re finally free and all mine. No more sharing."

 

Those few words tore my world apart in an instant.

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I’d been with this man half my life since we were sixteen years old. We had an eight-year marriage and shared three beautiful children, including twin girls just over a year old. We’d been through it all: buying our first home, then losing it in foreclosure; being overjoyed when I got pregnant with our second child, then devastated when I lost it six months into my pregnancy. I thought we’d seen everything, but this I never saw coming.

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I never saw it because everyone knew he loved me just a little more. They say in every relationship one person does that, loves the other more. The kids and I had always been his entire world. No part of me ever questioned that he’d jump in front of a train to save us if he had to.

I was all he ever wanted. Until I wasn’t.

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I set his phone on the bathroom counter and without a second thought threw open the shower curtain, turned off the water, and said; “Get the fuck out.” I watched him pull on his shorts in the hallway, still sopping wet, one leg and then the other. I crossed the room and opened the front door, pointed and yelled again “GET THE FUCK OUT!”

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He kissed our son goodbye, tossed his wedding ring in my general direction, and walked out the front door, slamming it behind him.

He never came back.

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Things had not been perfect between us prior to that day, I can’t lie. We’d been struggling financially to the point of desperation for what felt like forever. We’d lost our home the year before and were forced into bankruptcy after our twins were born. Our life was in a noticeable negative tailspin. Losing everything we’d worked so hard to acquire had destroyed our pride and left us both feeling helpless and miserable. I’d done everything I could think of to cut our budget and make it so we could pay the bills and still eat, but every month we fell further behind.

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On the day he left, I didn’t have five dollars to my name. Our electric, water, and gas bills were all past due with shutoff notices pending, and the rent was late. I hadn’t worked in over two years, and the economy was in the middle of a deep recession. The car title was in his name, as was our bank account. Overnight, I went from desperate to stranded and destitute with no way to provide for my three small children.

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That night I laid on the cold hardwood floor in our living room, my hair matted to the side of my head with tears that had finally run dry from my own dehydration. The only thought that floated in my semi-conscious brain was, “How the hell can I do this?” I’d tried so hard to think of a plan, anything, but nothing came, except that question over and over again. It seemed completely impossible. Yet somehow, at that moment, survival mode also kicked in, and with it came even more questions. Of course, we’d have to move right away, but where? I didn’t have a family who could take us in. And we’d need to sell everything we owned, but how? And I’d need a job, but doing what? And how could I afford to work when daycare would take up most of my salary?

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All night these questions swirled in my head without answers.

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The sense of utter helplessness was all-consuming. I was no stranger to hard times. I’d grown up in extremely difficult circumstances and had struggled all my life. I already knew what it felt like to go hungry; to not have a roof over my head or a bed to sleep in at night. But this was different. Being resilient and scrappy is fine when it’s just you. But when you have children to feed, there’s a new kind of panic that washes over you in overwhelming waves. In the past, I had always relied on #TheHustle to get me through anything. It was comforting knowing that no matter what came at me, I would always “find a way.” But this time, I knew Hustle alone would not save me, and I had no bright ideas.

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In moments like these we are faced with two options: fall apart, and disappear, or we can fucking fight! I knew I could never just give up, but I didn’t believe I had what it would take to fight. Not this time.

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About that time a friend walked in the door with her arms full of Costco boxes. She’d thought of everything: diapers and formula for the girls, dinner for the next week, and even enough cash to keep the electricity and water from being turned off.

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That is the moment that has defined my #RelentlessPursuit. That is the moment I Hustle and grind for.

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Something inside me just shifted. A light went on deep in my core followed by a burning desire to never put myself or my children in that kinda position again. I made a promise to myself right then that I would not rely on anyone to provide for my family. I wouldn’t borrow money from family members; I wouldn’t beg for help. I would somehow pay my girlfriend back and figure out how to handle my business on my own.

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Before this happened I’d always just thought I was unlucky and entitled to what little help I’d ever received. All my life I’d told myself this story, and believed it. Nothing good ever happens to me. I work twice as hard as everyone else for half as much. That was my core belief. And as a result, that was my life. No one ever told me that my life was the result of my thoughts, my beliefs, and my actions. I thought the only thing I could control was how hard I worked (#TheHustle), but that on its own left me feeling like I was drowning in quicksand. No matter how hard I worked, the results never showed. It took the catastrophe of that night, when my world collapsed in an instant, to spark within me a desire to drastically change my life.

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That week I sold everything we owned on Craigslist and filed for divorce. I took the money I made from our belongings to pay the first and last month’s rent on a really tiny, super-shitty, two-bedroom apartment. I had just enough left over for one more month of rent and a few groceries. That was all the money I had in the world. I didn’t even have a bank account.

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My older sister convinced me to get on food stamps, “Just until you get on your feet.” She said. I cried when the case worker took my story at the welfare office, but I knew I had no choice. I applied for every job I could find, but interviews were few and far between. When the second month came and my rent money was gone, I sold my wedding rings on Craigslist for a fraction of their value; enough for one more month’s rent. When the women came to pick up my rings, she looked around our little apartment, at my twins running around in their diapers and said, “I don’t want to know. Please don’t tell me the story.” She didn’t want my misfortune giving her new wedding rings negative juju.

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Things were certainly bleak, to put it mildly. It was terrifying, yet at the same time, there was a new spark of hope deep inside me that wouldn’t go away. Now I was in control of my future, and that was a whole new way of thinking about what was possible for my life. I remembered an Oprah show I’d watched where she’d talked about changing your thoughts because they have the power to predict your future. I mentally traced my life five, and then ten years back and realized that everything I worried about, feared, and stressed over had become my reality. That was a huge revelation for me. I saw it plain as day: I’d created all those “misfortunes.” I’d created that life. That was all the proof I needed. Even if it had only worked in a negative way up to that point, I knew I had nothing to lose and that possibility brought hope in a way I’d never known.

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My book Hustle Believe Receive tells the story of how I went from a newly single mom with nothing, who was relying on state aid to survive, to an executive of a software company, to a woman living her wildest dreams.  It’s real, raw and uncensored advice that works.  

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Check out just a few of the amazing moments I've manifested since 2009 through using my #HBRMethod and my #Futureboards. 

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By Sarah Centrella

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