Image: The revenants, by Amy Friend © 2002-2012.
I was a wife, and now I’m not.
The product is so much cleaner than the process. And in the beginning, this is how I thought of divorce. Discrete, an event. So I waited for it to be over.
There were mundane moments of suffering — my thumb would feel for my missing wedding band, I’d overfill the teakettle, or be half-asleep and bewildered to find only a single toothbrush near the sink. Every time, the surprise of it was clarifying, a series of breathtaking realizations. I moved the tissue box from room to room.
Beyond these details there was a progression of endings — moving out, quitting therapy, getting a lawyer, signing papers — all of it mounted toward the final goal. But each milestone passed without much change in my feelings. The finish line I imagined was in motion. Slowly I came to understand that divorce wasn’t so much an event as a death.
The distinction is crucial, for two reasons. First, because we have fewer expectations of when we’ll recover after a death. We understand that feeling normal again is more a function of time than effort. Second, because we have better tools for coping with mourning than with divorce. There’s a protocol of care, we forgive outbursts, moments of insanity. And if we’ve lost someone, perhaps we go easier on ourselves.
I did not go easy on myself. The grief eclipsed me, and embarrassed me. And thinking of it as an event only increased my suffering. When each phase found me still mourning, I worried that I would never be myself again.
Pain and confusion aside, just the paperwork seemed insurmountable. It was easy for me to get caught up in logistics and mistake them for the journey. Once you’ve taken actions A-Z, you are no longer married, and you get your life back.
Except, as with a death, once everything normalizes it doesn’t resemble your life anymore. The plans you’d made, the things you’d thought settled, are blown apart.
Now I’m no longer a wife, but the afterimage of that identity remains. Sometimes my habits still bend to accommodate the preferences of a person who isn’t there. I don’t know how long it will last, only that I don’t need a finite date anymore.
Divorce has changed me, matured me, perhaps more than marriage did. Now I know that our loneliest moments are some of the most universal.
If you’re going through a divorce, try not to worry so much about when everything will end, just know that it will. You’ll get through it, and there’s so much possibility waiting on the other side.
For those of you who have gone through it, when did you start feeling better? Did your thinking about the divorce process change over time? Advice appreciated in comments.
Mighty Girl 
Hi Maggie. I was saddened to hear that you were in the process of a divorce, knowing that it was such a hard process for me. Divorce was hard, the hardest thing that I have ever done, and I have had a lot of other hard things in this life.
As for ‘when did I start feeling better?’, it took a few years. I was not happy that it took a few years. I wanted to be OVER IT. But, time takes time. And, let’s see here, a ‘few years’ was really 5ish. I was married at 28 and divorced at 31 and didn’t feel better until my mid-30s. It just took time. My ex had moved on and re-married and that was hard, too.
Has my thinking about the divorce process changed over time? Yes, it did change over time. I now come to see that, while it was the hardest thing I ever did, it was also the best. Undoing and unraveling and then rebuilding made me into a more stable and happier me.
I am recently engaged and I bring this new me into this relationship and I vow not to do many of the things that I did before. I had to grow up a little more and I have been changed by the divorce into a more adult person. I can see now that we both had our faults but the only person that I have any chance of changing is me.
Blessings to you as you move through this. People told me to have fun, enjoy life, find things that you like to do, and your life will be full with that and the new friends and if a new man is to come, he will come. I was very impatient and wanted to re-marry, but it took a while for me to find my fiancee (and for me to become ready). He is not perfect, nor am I, but we try, and trying is a lot better than what was happening in my first marriage. Love to you!
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Beautiful post. I haven’t been through a divorce–only deaths of loved ones–but the way you speak of grief is spot-on. It sounds cliche, but death (of beloveds, of relationships) is a process, and the fact that we feel sad about loss long after the inciting event does not necessarily mean we are unable to move on or stuck in our grief. It can mean simply that the process is not yet complete. I told myself this during a year when I lost my father and my brother-in-law, and it helped me not feel embarrassed or like something was wrong with me during those times when I would suddenly be whacked over the head with a giant Grief Club and find myself crying breathlessly (sometimes in public). I would breathe and say to myself, “okay, okay, I know what this is. I got this.” And soon it would pass.
Once you have had your foundation shaken, you can never put everything back like it once was because the walls of the room have fallen down and some of the furniture has been broken. I think the people that get frustrated and stuck are the ones who keep trying to live in that old place.
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I went through this ten years ago. A good friend — experienced in divorce — told me I’d feel better in two years. I was horrified. I wanted to feel better *now*! But it did. It took at least that long. It was six months before I came out of the numb fog and another 6 before I would stop and cry at random things.
The thing is that, for me, divorce was a good thing. Well no. Not a good thing. It was something that made me sit back and really think about who I am and what I want, and ten years later I can honestly say that I like the person I’ve become much more than the person I was. And because of that, I’m so much happier. When did that change happen? I’m not sure. I know it started about two to three years after though.
I’m not glad I went through it. If there were other ways I could have learned what I did, I sure would have chosen those. But having had to, I had to choose the way forward that led here.
I read once that divorce is the most traumatic thing you can go through, second only to death of immediate family. It’s true, it’s a death of many things, and you do need time to mourn.
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I have to start with the caveat that for all intents and purposes, my first marriage ended very terribly and very suddenly one day (although it still took over a year for me to become legally divorced). Your comparison between divorce and death resonates with me, although perhaps not in the same way that you meant it to, because the best way to describe the way I felt about my divorce is to say that I feel like I died the day my first marriage ended. Over time, I felt like I’d been reborn and the 6 years since my divorce have unequivocally the best years of my life. Slowly I learned to make my own happiness a priority, I fell in love and married someone much more worthy of my love, and over all I’ve just been incredibly lucky to have stumbled into a post divorce life more wonderful than I ever could have imagined for myself.
My thoughts about the divorce have changed. I don’t think about my ex or really remember him all that well anymore, perhaps because I feel so disassociated from the person who was married to him. What remains for me is a sadness that I had to go through so much pain when that marriage ended. It is tempered by gratefulness that I got through it and that my new life has been so wonderful, as well as a sense of security that comes with knowing how strong I truly am. The process for me is that the pain over the trauma gradually overwhelmed the feelings I had for my ex, and now gratefulness is slowly overwhelming that pain.
I think that I’ve stopped thinking about the divorce in terms of “getting over it.” My father says things like “you’ll never get over it and you just have to accept that” but I just don’t agree. After about 3 years, I felt a real sense of having moved past it, despite having lingering sadness. And even prior to those 3 years, I definitely felt like I was on a fairly linear path to healing. There are parts of me that I hope time will heal a bit more fully- I never thought that 6 years out I’d still be having nightmares about my ex. I still cannot stand to say his name. It’s only in the past year or so that I talk (sparingly) about memories that involve him somewhat closely- like how I related to his mom, or the story of how my parents adopted a dog that his apartment wouldn’t let him keep.
I never thought that being a divorcee would be such a big part of my self identity. I don’t feel bad or ashamed or anything like that- it’s just that if I had to describe myself, I’d say that I am someone who endures. (Perhaps this is also why I enjoy long distance running- ha!)
As for advice- the thing that helped me the most was seeing a therapist for a number of years. More broadly, solicit all the professional help you need. I also saw both a psychiatrist and a nutritionist for issues that arose during the process.
Be gentle with yourself and don’t try to pressure yourself or set a date to feel better. Alternately, don’t let life pass you by just because you don’t feel fully recovered. I honestly met my now husband very early in my grieving process and I’m glad that I decided that he was too special to let slip away just because meeting him didn’t fall at particular place on my timeline.
Sorry for writing a comment book, but I do hope that you feel better soon. In my experience it’s like the divorce slipped from the center of my view to the periphery of my vision. I don’t know if it will ever fade away entirely, but it’s at a fairly comfortable place in my sphere of existence. I hope you find at least as much peace.
“As for advice- the thing that helped me the most was seeing a therapist for a number of years. More broadly, solicit all the professional help you need. I also saw both a psychiatrist and a nutritionist for issues that arose during the process.
Be gentle with yourself and don’t try to pressure yourself or set a date to feel better.” Yes to this. -M
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Hi Maggie. First time writer, long time reader.
I feel like divorce, for me, changed over time, much like how marriage changes. I definitely feel more mature, and definitely humbler post-divorce. I no longer offer “advice” about dating, marriage, relationships. I instead just listen, and empathize. When pressed, I ask what they feel in their heart and in their gut. And then listen some more.
I was actually talking to my ex-husband about this on Sunday, as we sat in the park watching our respective spouses wrangle our respective children. We contemplated how really fucking hard (and this is a proper use of an expletative) it was to work through it all, but that we both knew we had no choice. That it would be hard, but that it was worth it to work through this impossibly hard divorce and post-divorce life and be friends after. We cared about each other too much to do anything else.
I can’t speak to the loneliness, as I quite like being alone. Nor can I speak to “feeling better”, because I don’t believe I ever did feel better. I felt…different.
When my current husband and I went to our first parenting class, they told us to be prepared that things will never “go back to normal”. Instead, recognize each change as “the new normal”. I think divorce is like that, I think marriage is like that too.
Like I said, I don’t give advice anymore to friends going through divorce. However, the one thing I always recommend is Marvin Gaye’s album, “Here, My Dear”. It’s the album he made as a part of the settlement agreement with his wife when they divorced. All of the emotions you feel – anger, sadness, betrayal, hope, inspiration, and the goofy, almost pubescent realization that you’re in love again – are all there in song form. Ignore the fact that Gaye was equally if not more so coupable in the dramatics that ended his marriage – that album covers the process of divorce in a nutshell. I wore my CD out in the first year of my separation and divorce.
Good luck Miss Maggie, you’re awesome.
Thanks for the album recommendation. Music is so useful in these situations. -M
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I have no advice considering I’ve never gone through it. Only the experience of my parents divorce after 28 years, during the year of my wedding.
The great thing is (and hopefully something for you to look forward to) is that they both found amazing people and both got re-married within just a few years of their divorce. Both of my parents are now so so happy, and I couldn’t be happier for them. I know you will get there too.
I know it’s not the same, but my husband was in the Air Force and we didn’t live together for a year. Totally sucked, but I appreciate him so much more now that I get to see him everyday. I’m sure you’ll take great lessons from your first marriage into your next relationships.
Hang in there. And I think it’s totally normal to freak out, cry, be sad, be out of it, etc., considering I’m happily married and do those things. 🙂
YOU ROCK Maggie!
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I got married 8 years ago today, and divorced 6.5 years ago. I sobbed my way through yoga last night because sometimes, it still hurts so acutely.
I think that one thing that was difficult for me, as a generally Successful Person, was that it felt like a failure. I felt like I’d failed someone else, and I felt like I failed myself. Being a divorcee didn’t jive with the notion I had of who I was.
And you’re right on that it’s like a death. It’s the death of the life you shared, but it’s also the death of the hopes, dreams and plans you’d made as a couple or family. I remember thinking that I’d never do some of the things we’d planned (travel, have a baby in a certain year, etc.) and some of that was hard, but once I felt a little better, I was able to make some of those dreams happen for myself, albeit differently.
I remember that about three months after we’d split (and my ex has chosen to never speak to me again, btw) I came out of the gym, and picked up my phone to call him and tell him what I wanted on my salad for dinner that night, as was our Wednesday night custom. The forgetting and simultaneous remembering hurt so badly, and I remember sobbing to a friend that “there would never be someone who’d go get my salad and know what I didn’t want on it again.” And sometimes, it felt like no one would ever know me that intimately again.
At first, I set tiny goals for myself each day: wash sheets, make cookies, don’t lay around and cry. And after a few months, that became unnecessary. There is no deadline of when you will feel better, and sometimes, even years later, the pain does kind of take you by surprise. But you WILL feel better. You will adjust to a new normal, you will learn surprising things about yourself and your strength and you will recover. Divorce made me more sensitive to myself and to others.
If I can offer one piece of advice, it’s don’t punish yourself. I’ve spent far too long punishing myself for what I could or could not have done, not just in my mind but in the way I’ve treated myself. I regret that time period, because the truth is, I don’t know if anything I did or said could’ve saved the marriage. I am still learning to be nice to myself.
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Hi Maggie,
I don’t really have an experience with divorce but I just wanted to say how profound and articulate your words captured grief and loss. I can’t imagine this was easy to write or share but I thank you.
Stephanie
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A few weeks in, I had a moment between breathing in and breathing out where I felt okay. And then it was gone. But I held on to the memory of that moment. I took care of my body, avoided intoxicants as best I could, and fixed little things around the house. And I kept my eyes open for those moments, which were few and far between, but powerful.
Somewhere between a year and two years in, a friend looked me in the eye and said, “Shouldn’t you be getting over it now?”
I was pissed, but he was kind of right to ask. Gradually, I allowed myself to be okay. I didn’t want those ten years to have been a waste of my time and my heart, and I had to find a way to let myself be happy without diminishing the value of what I’d lost. It’s a tricky needle to thread.
And then there’s the crusty wisdom of my best friend’s dad, who said, “You won’t be worth a shit for at least a year, but it gets better. It just takes longer than you think it will.”
“Shouldn’t you be getting over it now?” Oof. Gotta love the no-bullshit friends.. -M
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I don’t have the perspective of losing a spouse through divorce, but I do have the perspective of losing one to a sudden death. I think it’s completely callous to say “divorce wasn’t so much an event as a death.” Suddenly, permanently losing the person you love the most, imagining the pain he felt as he died and you having no chance to save him or say goodbye is a lot different than making an adult decision to build separate lives and deciding that you will be happier without the marriage. Yes, they are both painful, and I don’t think the pain of one makes the other less valid, but I know that when people say they can sympathize with me because they got divorced I want to kick them in the shins. I’m sorry you’re in this pain, but you had a chance to fight for your love, and your son has a father in his life, and you and your ex’ each have the chance to live. My husband does not have that chance, and my daughter does not have that father. Please don’t compare divorce to death. It’s sad, it’s grief, but it’s not a death.
I’m sorry for your loss, and I don’t mean to diminish it with the comparison. I have also lost close loved ones, though not my spouse, and my intent was to convey that the mourning process is similar. It was helpful for me to connect the two events because it gave me a greater emotional understanding of why I was reacting to my divorce the way I was. Still, I understand why this hit a nerve, and I’m surprised to hear that people have tried to relate their divorces directly to your loss. That was not at all my intent. Again, I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. -M
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I am a first time commenter that is in the midst of ending a 10 year relationship. Every single day I have a different emotion. Some days I wake up and think it is for the best. Some days I can’t stop crying and thinking what I could have done differently. I know in the long run it will be better but it is going to take me a while to get there. One positive thing that I decided to do was up and buy myself a house. I am in the process of looking and after that, I will be adopting another dog. I might not have the life I imagined with the husband and kids right now but damn it, I am having some kind of life!
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Oh my god. I’ve been thinking about this like an event. And I’ve been so embarrassed by how much it hurts.
I’m currently in bed, where I kind of haven’t moved from for two days, and I am in a sea of crumpled tissues. My hair is on end, and I haven’t showered since… dunno. This post at this moment was a comfort. Thank you.
Oh honey, I’m so sorry. -M
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I am so glad you wrote this. xo
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Amazing post. So very on point.
It started to get easier for me when I started to let go of being angry (at whatever – him, the lawyers, the house, the stuff, the situation in general). Once I realized I could let the anger go it became harder and harder to get mad and that’s where I found peace.
To this day it’s very difficult for me to get angry. Annoyed, irritated, hell yes. But real anger? It’s such a senseless emotion for me that once I made the choice to let it go the rest of my emotional responses became so much more in tune with reality.
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In response to the death comment, I don’t think of it as a sudden death, and not even of a person specifically, but the death of the relationship and the life we once had. More like a drawn out battle with cancer than a sudden heart attack.
That’s not to minimize anyone else’s experience with an actual death of a loved one.
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It has been four years since my divorce, and I feel a greater sense of self than I ever had. I realize how much strength it took to leave and rebuild, and I am so proud of my younger self for getting through it with as much grace as possible (not always that much).
It was a roller-coaster and I second-guessed myself for the first year. By the second year, I was just angry. The third, a little better. And now — really good. I look back at the last few years and realize how rich the experience was — coming to really know myself, leaning on my friends, exploring new interests. It was awful and it was beautiful. It was necessary.
I have an amazing therapist and an amazing yoga practice now. Both have helped immensely.
It will get better. It takes a lot longer thank you think. Honor the journey. So many people support you!
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Oh, thank you for such a wonderful post. I have never been through a divorce, but my boyfriend and I just broke up on Sunday and I’m reeling. I know it’s not even on the same ballpark as a divorce, but even in an amicable break up, there is so much pain and loss. It really helps to read about how others muddle through it. Thank you, thank you.
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Divorce is a funny thing, like death, we all know something about it, but until you are in the thick of it, you might not know the depth of the feelings and reactions you will have.
It’s 4 years out of a divorce driven out of mental illness and safety issues. Even with something that is so clear and so needed, it’s still hard. It has become easier, but like a death, you grieve at different times, often unexpectedly. I have learned that there are certain holidays that are triggers or places too. But (!) overtime, the sadness, while still there to some degree, has softened. I am more patient with myself as I muddle through. My kiddo (who was 2 when Dad left) has more questions now, and while I would like to have it on a shelf we don’t have to deal with, he is making sense of it. I get to practice patience with him as well.
There will be events that you may choose not to go to — like a family camping trip, b/c you are the only single parent there — and all that coupling is rough in the wilderness somehow. But try to find a tribe of single parents you can hang with, so you can still go and do those things and enjoy! Some women who are insecure in their marriages or see your freedom as something they wish they had may be mean to you — I didn’t know this would happen, and it was painful and unexpected. Even though they were supportive and helpful when things were bad, once you are free, the friendship shifts. And patience is needed there too. Some friends will step up in ways you didn’t even know or imagine, but others might not. And that’s ok. You will find new and different supports. I agree with folks that it takes a couple years…which isn’t easy to hear, but there is a time when it will be on the upswing.
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I remember reading a line somewhere that has stayed with me:
Each divorce is the death of a civilization.” It’s not the same as a person dying (as mentioned above), but it is the loss of all that you had worked towards building, all that you had imagined. And sometimes it is the right and necessary thing.
Sending you all best thoughts and wishes as you move through it. It’s a tremendously hard and brave thing to have done. xox
Great quote. -M
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Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for this.
I’ve been separated from my husband for a year now, and completing the divorce paperwork has seemed an impossible task. I carry it around with me in my bag, every single day, promising myself that I’ll work on it, but always fall apart just looking at it.
I do have to say though, my children, my parents, my friends, coworkers, everybody tells me how much happier I seem, how much lighter my spirit is. And they’re correct. I am happier, my spirit is lighter. I made the right decision. Not the most popular decision, this is true, but the one that was right for me.
But it’s been hard to share the feelings of inadequacy when it comes down to – what other people assume is the easiest part – the damn paperwork.
So thank you for telling us about your struggles. It’s hard to not be a wife anymore, even if you were the one who ended the marriage (and I was).
Your strength and spirit have really kept me going sometimes, I check in with your blog daily. If you can manage to share your life, the good parts and the difficult parts, then it gives me hope.
What keeps me going is the undeniable sensation of living my life honestly, of being true to myself. This has helped me to be a better mother, a better friend, a better friend to MYSELF.
And just writing this has clarified something for me. Why am I struggling to complete a hard task alone? Why don’t I ask a friend or family member to help me? I would do that for a friend, and so I need to remember (and ask!) a friend to help me through this final task on the divorce checklist.
Please continue to share with us as you move through these stages. You’re helping more people than you could ever guess.
Keep on rocking, Maggie, you are amazing.
Ha! Yes, ask a friend to help you. Getting through the red tape was a huge weight off. Good luck with everything, and thanks for the kind words. -M
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My divorce was final in March of last year. I thought that being divorce meant that it was over. I was so caught up in the struggle over keeping my house and separating from a person who used to make me happy, but now caused me pain and grief, that I felt no pain. I used to joke that I would throw myself a “divorce party” the day the divorce was final. And the date came and went, and the relief I was supposed to feel was eclipsed by the most overwhelming grief I have ever felt. I am in a relationship with a wonderful man, and I would cry to him every night at the dinner table. I felt like I died, my dreams died, my best friend (my ex-husband) died. I spent 10 years with this man, and having him extirpated from my life (after he continued to harass me over who keeps what furniture after the divorce was final, I asked him to never get in touch with me again) I felt that those 10 years of my life were taken away from me. My 20s were gone and I was crying to get them back. What good are memories is you cannot reminisce them with someone else? By October, I was a wreck: I would visit old neighborhoods filled with memories of my time with my first husband and cry my eyes out. One afternoon, while going back to my office, I thought I saw my ex-husband walking towards me – smiling and looking like the 25 year old I used to adore – and in a nanosecond, this image vanished and I realized that it was an old man walking towards me. This is what made me realize that I needed therapy ASAP. I found a wonderful therapist and within 3 months, I was able to work through that grief.
Graduating from therapy gave me the closure and finality that I thought the legal separation would give me. I still have a tiny pocket of pain in my heart, but I am moving on. I asked my boyfriend to marry me before my last therapy session and I let go of the fear that just because marriage #1 ended poorly, #2 would would be the same.
Like you said, I grew much more through the divorce than I did in my marriage. I felt pain like I had never felt before. While I don’t wish to relieve that ever again, I am glad I such a maturing experience.
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One day, it just didn’t hurt as much as the day before. There are days now, many years later that I mourn for what I “thought” was going to happen, like the children’s milestones. In the end, we all seem much happier, fifteen years later…Xoxo.
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I’ve never been through a divorce myself, but my parents got divorced when I was a tween and my father in law passed away recently. Emotionally, they are surprisingly similar things. There’s still a complete sense of loss, and when life starts returning to “normal” there’s a realization that normal is now completely different from what it was before.
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I’m two years out from the time I started the divorce proceedings, which drew out forever and made the whole process even more painful. Just this past February the final papers were signed, and the day I received them was the day I finally felt free.
But when did I feel better? That was about 6 months after the decision to end the marriage. I had finally found the person I knew I could be. My attempts to prove I could make my seven year marriage work (at the cost of my own safety and happiness) were making me far more miserable than I had ever known till I finally separated myself from him.
Now I see that divorce was a necessary heartbreak for me to find myself. Divorce is not the ideal solution, but now I realize people who stick out a marriage “for the kids” are sacrificing so much of their own happiness. No one should be stuck in that situation.
My frequent thought during the divorce process was “I can’t believe how much joy there is in my life now.” Of course there were terrible heartbreaking moments of sadness, but I hope anyone going through a divorce can find a way to see the joy their new life will have.
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My husband has been divorced from his ex for a little over a year, and the separation was for two years before that. His ex-wife is engaged to be married next spring, and my husband and I were married last summer. Together, the four of us work to raise “our” (we all refer to him as such) four year old son.
It didn’t start out as the simple and straightforward partnership of sorts that it is now. It started with a lot of anger and resentment (I joined right in on behalf of my now-husband…I’m sure that was totally helpful) but time and distance from the main event have given everyone perspective and lessened the pain. Their situation was perhaps different (I know no details about your situation, so I’m just guessing) as both parties were incredibly unhappy, and are much happier now with different partners. I don’t think either one of them ever had much regret that the divorce took place. It would be lovely to have full custody of the four year old who we all adore, but he’s got four parents who are crazy about him, and we have managed to create a stable, two-household environment in which to raise him.
I’m sorry. This is very me-me-me, and I meant to offer words of advice.
It gets better. It has to get better. My dad is a huge fan of quoting “this too shall pass” at me whenever anything awful happens, to the point where I’d like to smack him and screech, “What if it DOESN’T?” Except that it always does.
Lean on your friends. Don’t hide from the grief. Trust that it won’t always feel like this. And with regards to the person who suggested you not refer to it as a death – it’s your website, and your divorce – you can call it any damn thing you want.
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C, I understand you are feeling upset about the comparison from death to divorce but there is no winner in the pain Olympics. I’ve lived through BOTH OF THESE EVENTS and I tell you, divorce indeed can be as painful as divorce. Don’t presume you know for other people. I didn’t get to “fight for my love,” because he up and left me for a younger woman while I was pregnant. He left us, he never looked back, and he shattered my entire life at the time. It indeed was a huge loss to me at that time, and I had to GRIEVE just as much if not more than when I had a loss through death. It’s not better or worse when your partner leaves because they do not want to be with you than when they can’t be with you. No one is a winner in any of these situations, no one is a worse loser. It all is awful.
Don’t make assumptions, please.
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A piece of advice I always give to people going through a divorce (and there are so many of us) is that the grief will ebb and flow. You will be fine for days, weeks, maybe even a whole month and suddenly a moment will just…wash over you. And you will feel very alone. But it passes. And the spaces grow larger. Another element of this type of grief is the fervent wishing that things could have been different. I don’t mourn my marriage – it was awful – but I do mourn my greatest dream, a lovely marriage. Even now, 2 or 3 years out, I desperately wish things could have been different for everyone. Ultimately, know in your secret heart that everything is going to be okay. It may not look like you thought it would (or like you wanted it to) but it will be okay.
The ebb and flow is a perfect way to put it. Succinct. -M
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Holy crap Maggie. You are such a good writer.
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This is why I think death is easier. I said easier, not easy. At all. This is a week for leaky eyes for me. I’ve never been more sad and angry at one person before in my entire life as I am with Chris. Some days are better then others.
You’ll find your own way to heal. We all do in the eventually. You are strong and amazing and you can do this. At least, I believe you can.
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Even though I got married young and to a person I had no business being married to, and even though it was only for 3 years, it took me a long time to stop acknowledging things like what might have been my anniversary or how many years we would have been married. Twelve years since the divorce and it’s finally something I can barely remember. It’s more the relationship than the divorce that caused me pain. The divorce gave me the possibility to start anew.
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Thank you for this. He left suddenly two and a half years ago. I was lost. In some ways I am still lost even though that marriage only lasted six years. I loved him with all I had and I never imagined life without him. I’d been through a previous divorce and it wasn’t anything like this. I still haven’t filed divorce papers after 30 months even though I know it’s over, he’s moved on, we haven’t spoken in over a year. I still reach to buy his favorite foods or to pick up a shirt I know he’s like. It’s crazy, it’s done, I’m not in denial. I just haven’t been able to bring myself to the point of filing the papers and cutting all the ties.
It has gotten better and my friends were patient with me. Six months ago one of them lost patience and told me to stop bringing him into every conversation. That was an eye-opener. I hadn’t realized how close I was still holding him. Now I watch what I say and I really try not to bring him into the present.
It will get better. It has to get better. It’s almost been worse than a death because I know he’s still out there living, but not in my sphere of reference.
Every separation, or divorce, or death is different. Be kind to your friends feeling the loss.
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Today would have been my 12th wedding anniversary. I had no idea it would have been my 12th wedding anniversary until I just looked at the calendar to sort out the “how long” business in my response to this lovely post.
I was married for eight years. I’ve been divorced for four. I can share that it took nearly four years for me to feel better and that when my marriage imploded (and it really imploded) a sweet and kind friend shared that it would take me five years to truly feel like myself again.
I also did one very big wrong thing that I will share because I don’t recommend it to anyone and that was I abandoned my own community and moved far away thinking that was going to help. While it feels like a great idea at the moment of implosion, it is the worst idea ever and landing in a strange land, alone, with no net makes everything that much more difficult.
I know that isn’t your story, but I’m just sharing it because I know many beautiful people read here and the end of a marriage can make us do irrational things that feel and look quite rational at the time.
Breathing and standing still and taking the best care of you that you can are all the things I highly recommend. Time will heal and there’s really no special road map for divorce, unfortunately. Because, as we know, there’s no special road map for marriages, either. We’re all the unique hearts that met and came together and said yes to one another and when it no longer can be, well, then the unraveling and the unspinning and the paths we take to finding the happily unmarried me is just ours alone for the taking.
I wanted to move so badly after the separation. I know this is different for everyone, but having to stay paid huge dividends in growth for me. -M
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There’s an old adage that states that it takes a person half the length of the marriage to fully emotionally recover from the dissolution of said marriage.
I’m not sure whether that’s true. I’m also not sure whether one ever gets over the pain of a failed marriage.
I only know that before I started feeling better, I had to feel a lot of pain. My advice is to embrace the pain and don’t try to gloss over your feelings too quickly. Recovering from divorce is a long process with many bumps and hurdles. Sometimes you’ll start feeling better, only to realize that it was a temporary reprieve and you still have a long way to go.
That being said, it took me about two years to “get over” my divorce. Those two years were fraught with more introspection and maturation than at any other point in my life. I learned an incredible amount about myself, my ex-spouse, and our relationship during that time.
One day, you’ll wake up and realize that things are better. When that time comes differs for everyone but hopefully everyone gets there.
Best of luck to you.
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I was divorced three years ago, after seven years of marriage. You’ve gotten a lot of thoughtful advice and comments here, but here’s what I would add: I’m now remarried to a wonderful man and have the life I always wished I had with my first husband. He wasn’t a horrible guy, he just wasn’t the guy for me–and if I hadn’t gone through the seven years of not-quite-right, I know I wouldn’t be able to appreciate what I have now.
Even though the divorce was one of the most painful things I ever had to go through (I think calling it a death is spot-on because that’s how it feels!), I wouldn’t change the way things worked out.
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To resonate some of the comments, yes – it does take several years to feel better. And yes, I love the person I have become after divorcing. I, too, think it helped me grow up and become the person I was meant to be.
The thing that I didn’t realize is that I have had to continue to work on my relationship with my ex-husband, because we have a daughter. And so, unlike death, the thing/person grieved hasn’t gone away entirely. And while it’s rewarding because it means Nina benefits, it still can be difficult. We know all of the right/wrong buttons to push. And it has been a lesson in how some things will never change. And maintaining that relationship with my ex has even cemented even further that we were not a good match.
However, sometimes I am still hit with grief and it is unpredictable in its appearance.
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I was divorced almost 6 years ago after 9 years of marriage. I’m getting married next week (whoa!) and there is still the occasional moment where a scent or a snippet of a song hits me like an unexpected medicine ball. It was about a year for me before I stopped wishing I could stay in bed forever. But understand that my marriage was on life support for 2 years before I pulled the plug.
I will always refer to my divorce as the death of a part of my life — a death of the person I used to be.
Congratulations on your new marriage and the fresh start. -M
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Thank you for sharing this. I have friends, happily married many years, who sometimes behave like I should be happy it’s over; now I can get on with my life once more. Only I can’t.
I’m on my 2nd divorce. I don’t even like admitting to it; for now my 2nd husband and I are only separated, but I know where this is going. He moved out (his choice, not mine) six months go and after all this time without him, I’m okay. Except I’m not.
I’ve been half a couple since I was 17. I haven’t been single for six months since then. I don’t know what life alone is like, and it’s very bewildering, and at times the loneliness is like standing in the middle of the Grand Canyon. No way up, and no way out.
I’ve learned to pursue the things I like, not the things WE liked. I took up running, and I’m considering classes, though I’m not sure for what. I’ve always wanted to learn guitar and sign language, and who knows? Maybe I’ll meet someone there. But every time I think about meeting someone new, I feel guilty, like I should really spend MORE time alone because otherwise, I won’t get to know myself and what I want.
Except I think I do know what I want: to find love again. For now I’d just be happy with a new friend to hang out with, do things with. Someone to make me laugh, and not feel so alone. It doesn’t need to be permanent, and you can bet the next time I walk down an aisle, it’ll be at my son’s wedding. I don’t have a lot of faith in the opposite sex anymore, but really, it should be me I’m unhappy with. I know I played a role in the breakup, and I’m working to learn how not to do it again.
When does everything stop looking like a whirlwind? I know the answer is “eventually”, but *when*? 🙂
It’s only been six months, girl. You don’t have to make any decisions or take any action right now. Let yourself take a nap. -M
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There was a point where, going through the divorce with a (very) young child involved, I and my ex-wife looked at each other and said:
“What we need to acknowledge is that we won’t be married, but we ARE in a long-term relationship, because of Kaylee. That’s inevitable, unavoidable, and ultimately good for HER, so we need to acknowledge that and embrace it. If we expect to file the divorce papers and never have to talk to each other, we’re going to be angry all the time, because that’s not going to happen any time in the next 20 years.”
So we did that. It was very hard. Then it was hard. Then it was hard some of the time. Now it’s kind of hard, some days.
Most of the time, it’s pretty good. We’re all going to Brave tonight (“as a family” as my daughter likes to say).
Amen to that. Treating each other with respect as parents is so crucial to your kids’ health. It speaks well of both of you that you’re putting that first. -M
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I’m a child of divorced parents and it definitely marked my life growing up. In the end, it made me be very careful about who I married and thus I didn’t marry until much later in life. On the plus side, it was a huge relief when my parents did finally divorce. It was better for them to be happily separated than miserably together.
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Gradually, slowly, I healed over the first year, and then it began to speed up. After the first year, I was still healing, still hurting, but the balance had shifted in favor of contentment over pain. By the time we’d been apart for two years, I felt like myself again.
He moved out in 1997, so it’s been a very long time now, but I remember so well how at first I felt like I could never quite get my feet under me. I was disoriented and on edge and out-of-sorts. Occasionally, I would discover that I felt OK, and then it would happen again, and then more often, and eventually it made sense that my towels were the only ones hanging in the bathroom and I had the whole closet to myself.
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Wonderfully written Maggie. I can feel the pain in your posts and it really makes me reach out to you and wish I could give you a hug. While I know nothing or marriage or divorce, I’m enlightened by your posts and incredibly thankful for you sharing your journey. Reading is and always will be a pleasure (not reading your pain, but your story obvi).
Evani
Thanks, Evani. -M
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During the process of getting divorced, I read a comment (on a wedding website, no less) that referred to divorce as “the death of a dream.” And that struck me as completely true—what I was mourning, more than the actual husband I was leaving, was all of the hopes and dreams and plans I had for our life together. That was the hard part, coming up with new dreams. Maybe this is where your Life List will come in handy—a ready made space for coming up with and pursuing new dreams. (Plus, you seem to be really good at checking things off!)
Also, at one point in my new place, about 2 months after I left him, I cooked. He’d always shamed and bearated me in the kitchen, so I hated cooking, but I needed to eat, so I turned up the music, fired up the stove, and danced around while throwing things in the pan. And it was delicious. It felt like such a victory, like I was discovering who I could be without him, and as it turned out, I liked that person very much. I hung onto the memory of that dinner every time things were hard, and now, two years later, I’m a pretty good cook. You will be too.
I love this story. One of the bright spots of all this has been discovering new things about myself, and letting myself try things that didn’t interest me before. -M
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I think there are certain ideas of ourselves, past identities, that we mourn. (We mourn our youthful selves, for example. Some people never get over it.) Divorce strikes me as the kind of thing where you mourn your former self even if you were the one who killed her. Even if you couldn’t exist if she still did. We can mistake this greif for greif about the relationship or the husband, and we grieve for those things as well, but losing the identity of ‘wife’ is also like losing an old friend.
Still, mourning is different from regret. One of my favorite writers is David Velleman. He has a paper called “Forget What Might Have Been.” There he writes,
“We can perhaps envy the (versions of ourselves) for whom things might have gone differently, as we envy any other person. But we cannot think of them as our more fortunate selves, because they aren’t selves of ours in the relevant sense, and so we cannot regard what they have as something that we ourselves might have had.”
Or in other words, “a future self of my past self is not a self of mine,” so regretting a you that might have been is weirdly like regretting that you were born who you are. Maybe that is comforting, to think about the future self of your past self that you are today as a person who was born into this divorce, you couldn’t have been otherwise because then you wouldn’t be you.
I agree about the difference between mourning and regret. I think it would be much more difficult to overcome regret, which is perhaps why so many people report wishing they’d taken more risks on their deathbeds. -M
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Maggie – Thanks you so much for writing this. I am just in the middle of this murk and turmoil, and I thought I was the only one who understood how death-like a divorce is.
Now I know I am not.
Ohh, now I am c rying again.
But still, thank you. We will be whole again eventually.
– SAWK
I’m so sorry. Sending good thoughts your way. -M
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Wow. When did I start feeling better? That is a question with so many answers. My divorce was a VERY long time coming, and so, in some ways, I felt better IMMEDIATELY. There was a certain relief that came from making a final decision; from being able to say, firmly, it’s time for you to go. But that relief, of course, was mixed with a number of other powerful feelings – most of them not the positive kind.
At the same time, since we have a son together and I’m adamant that we be civil co-parents, sometimes I feel like I’m still in the thick of it. For parents, the divorce ends the marriage, but it doesn’t end the relationship. And, woo boy, those co-parenting waters can be tricky to navigate sometimes.
But, if I had to boil it down, it took me about a year to start feeling better. I distinctly remember one spring day almost exactly a year after my husband moved out. Nothing exceptional was happening. I was sitting on the couch watching my son play contentedly on the floor with his matchbox cars. I looked out the window and saw the sun shining and the buds coming out on the trees. A hummingbird flitted its zigzag pattern across my front porch. After nine months of Seattle gray it was, rather suddenly, spring. It was a painfully obvious metaphor, which is maybe why I was sufficiently knocked out of my divorce stupor to notice it. If those daffodil bulbs had the strength and courage to push though a winter’s worth of cold, dark, muddy earth to find the sun, then so could I. THAT was the moment I started feeling better, and it was all uphill after that.
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I “started” feeling better after my divorce when I really began to believe that I deserved a better and healthier way for me to live my life. My marriage counselor advised me that it would take nearly five years for me to “get over” my divorce. It has not been five years. But, unfortunately, it did take about two. Two solid years of grieving this person I was madly in love with. Grieving the loss of what I wanted so badly in my future, my best friend, a marriage to one person – I know I did everything I possibly could, at that time, to make my marriage work. Would I do things differently now? You bet. I would have believed in myself and believed that I was worth someone upholding what I believe is a covenant of marriage – but, for so long I believed that he was everything and I was second-best. I do not regret the divorce, but I honest-to-God did not stop feeling better until I realized my self-esteem was in the garbage. I allowed myself to get there and I allowed my divorce to keep me there. I wanted my best friend back but what I didn’t realize is that HE was not my best friend and oh boy, that realization really hurt. My thinking about divorce has changed significantly. I guess I still believe in marriage, but I do believe profoundly that there are absolutely NO guarantees in life. There are no guarantees that anyone’s marriage will last or that someone will be faithful or that there is a perfect anything. However, I do believe that I can guarantee myself one thing. I can guarantee that I will never deny myself the opportunity again to believe that I am worth having a happy life, with or without someone. For me divorce was a huge wake-up call. I wish it did not take this because I loved my husband very much. But I do not think I would have been woken up unless this event occurred. “Hang in there” is so cliché’ but it’s so appropriate. Baby steps. Heel-toe. Every.Damn.Day. And sometimes, thankfully, there are amazing rainbows to see. Just never doubt just how much you ARE loved and the propensity for your heart to love again.
This is a great point. I’m interested in how much self-esteem is tied up in the way we interact with one another, especially in our romantic relationships. -M
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Maggie,
I have a little different view of divorce, as I haven’t been divorced myself (or married for that matter) but I am going through my parents divorce right now. I’m 28 and they have been married for 33 years. You describe the grieving process much as I see my Dad going through it. My Mom on the other hand has a new relationship (she did just days after leaving) and hasn’t grieved at all. As the adult kid through all of this I have learned that my parents, especially my Dad, need their friends, their family, and people who aren’t directly effected by their tears to cry at. I know I won’t ever get over the loss of my parents marriage, but I do know day by day it will get better. And even if my parents move on, re-marry and live “happy” lives they won’t ever not grieve the loss of their marriage. I think feeling that way is what will allow you, me, my parents all to move on with life, and accept that this different normal is the new normal.
I’m not so sure that this is advice, so much as I am just chiming in and saying “yeah, that.”
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Zero experience with divorce, lots with death. And with using process/procedure as a yardstick and then being surprised that life doesn’t go back to “normal” when tasks are successfully accomplished.
Six years to the day since my father died, I’m still sometimes surprised at his absence. And, on big days (birthdays, father’s day) I’m irrationally pissed off that, after doing everything(funeral, estate, court case) in perfect little-type-A fashion, he didn’t come back. That there was and is no reward, no instant cooling balm of feeling better.
The surprise comes less frequently now, but I suspect that my personal redefinition of normal will be an ongoing process.
Finally, my mum also is fond of “This Too Shall Pass”, as well as “Stay calm, be brave, and wait for the signs.”
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nearly seven years since my 5 month marriage to someone mentally ill and mentally/physically abusive ended. though i am better now and do not hear her abuse in my head as much as i once did, it is still there and colors every moment of the world i perceive and my relationships. not that i’ve really had any relationships since.
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I hate the expression “get over it” when applied to the death of anyone or anything that has been part of our own identity. As someone who’s been through divorce and deaths, don’t expect to “get over it”.
To me that implies that there will come a time when it no longer matters in your life, and – again just for me – that never happened. What DOES happen, however, is that you assimilate what happened. It becomes part of who you are, part of your life story, part of what makes you you. It takes time but IT DOES HAPPEN and YOU WILL NOT ALWAYS FEEL THE HURT/CONFUSION/LOSS/BETRAYAL YOU’RE FEELING NOW.
I was lucky. When my ex and I split up, by the time we got to the decision to divorce, we had been through most of the awful-est parts because we had beaten that dead horse practically into the ground, and the divorce was a relief to us both. This isn’t to say I did cry a lot, wonder what I’d done wrong, question EVERYthing, and miss him/us (the good times) terribly, but we had as close to an amicable divorce as it’s possible to have and I stayed close with his family and saw him – and later his second wife and their son – at family events, and it was, in the parlance, “all good”.
It was probably also easier for me because I was the one who moved out. This was a conscious and much-discussed decision but it was pretty clear: He was in law school and we had scored a coveted apartment right across the street, and I couldn’t see why he should have to leave that, so I moved out. His mother never forgave me for what she saw as abandoning her son although he tried for years to make her see it as the favor it was. I’m sure that not living in “our” place anymore made it faster/easier for me to move forward than if I’d been surrounded by all those visual reminders and cues.
It also helped that we had no children and that we came to our property division agreement on our own without the lawyers. I could have gotten alimony from him and was encouraged to seek it since he was going to be (and did become) an attorney, but all I wanted in the decree was to get my own name back, which I got. Not having a monthly reminder of what had happened helped a lot too.
Sending you comfort and strength. You can do this. You ARE doing this. You’re MIGHTY and don’t you forget it.
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