There’s been a growing conversation around the idea of celebrating divorces as milestones worth recognition. Some argue that the end of a marriage should be met with cheers rather than condolences, suggesting that it can herald the start of a new chapter in life.
I understand this perspective. After meeting countless divorced individuals, I’ve seen that for many, the conclusion of their marriage indeed signifies liberation. They emerge from toxic relationships, sometimes escaping from abuse or neglect, and they deserve to celebrate their newfound freedom. However, my experience tells a different story, and I will never raise a glass to my divorce.
Sure, I’ve heard it all: “You’re better off without him!” The dissolution of my marriage marked the end of deception, infidelity, and a profound lack of respect that nearly shattered my identity. But it also meant relinquishing cherished dreams and aspirations. The moment we signed that decree was like watching our hopes splinter apart, leaving behind promises made to each other and to our children.
Speaking of children, that’s another reason I can’t bring myself to throw a party. While divorce can bring stability to some families, for my kids, it was a different narrative. During the initial awkward phase, when my ex and I were still navigating our new roles, I remember a late-night conversation where I expressed my fears about the impact on our children. His dismissive response—“People get divorced every day. They’ll be fine”—haunts me still.
Eight years later, my kids are “fine” in many respects, but the scars from that experience linger. Each of my four children has processed the divorce in their own way, and their struggles were more significant than I ever anticipated. We faced financial hardships that led to the loss of our family home, and I, once a stay-at-home mom, suddenly had to scramble for work and childcare. Our traditions crumbled, and holidays turned into a confusing cycle of alternating years.
Therapy sessions followed, and school challenges arose. The stigma faced by children of divorce is real, compounded by societal judgments that seem to linger. I even came perilously close to losing one of my children to depression. While it’s impossible to say if the divorce was the direct cause, it certainly didn’t help.
There were mornings when simply getting out of bed felt like a monumental task. Witnessing the slow demise of my marriage brought a grief that was overwhelming. Yet, I persevered. I chose to find joy in the little victories: each day where laughter outweighed tears, watching my children thrive despite the upheaval, and feeling the unwavering support of incredible friends.
I even celebrated the moment I filled out my first FAFSA all on my own! I will acknowledge my journey of healing and growth, and I’ll celebrate my resilience in navigating the “firsts” after our split. If you want to toast to our progress, I’m all in (just make mine a dirty martini, please). But the divorce itself? That painful experience was a heavy burden that I simply cannot celebrate.
So, while I respect those who choose to embrace their divorce as a reason to celebrate, I remain firm in my stance. Now, let’s discuss those martinis!