My partner and I have spent years coming to terms with the reality that our marriage is drawing to a close. It has been a long, arduous journey filled with denial, heartache, and mourning. We navigated this struggle privately for quite some time and now find ourselves living apart, working through the process of divorce and adjusting to our new daily lives.
To outsiders, we may appear like a couple who has everything under control, but that’s because we chose to keep our struggles between us during this difficult time. While we confided in a few close friends, our neighbors and family were largely unaware. Our children sensed there was something amiss but didn’t know the full extent of our situation.
Despite our efforts to suppress our emotions, it was an uphill battle. Maintaining the facade of happiness when we were drowning in despair was exhausting. Since we began discussing our separation openly, many women, both familiar and unfamiliar, have asked, “What is it really like?” Perhaps they’re longing for reassurance or guidance, seeking hope in their own uncertain circumstances.
Some express a desire to make similar choices, needing to know they aren’t alone. They approach me, searching for the unfiltered truth, likely hoping for validation in their feelings. I understand their quest; I once needed that same affirmation. I needed to believe that I could rewrite my narrative and still stand tall in the next chapter of my life. I had to be sure that my family, including my ex, would be okay if we truly went through with our decision.
I can’t claim to have all the answers. Relationships are not universal; they shift, wear down, and sometimes become unrecognizable. What works for one couple may not suffice for another. So when someone asks, “I am considering this too. Are you okay?” I respond with a mix of yes and no. We seem content because we had already processed much of our pain before sharing it with others. We waited until we had made a final decision to disclose our situation. There’s no right way to handle this; it was simply our choice, marking the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. The pain comes and goes, and all we can do is keep moving forward.
Honestly, I find myself living a life I never envisioned. At times, it feels like I am expending all my energy just to escape a dark place. This sensation often follows fleeting moments of clarity. Ending a marriage has a way of being unpredictable like that, even when both parties are in agreement. One moment, you might feel liberated and content; the next, your heart shatters anew, and the tears come flooding back.
What you witness when you look at us is the dissolution of a relationship that no longer thrived. We aimed to support each other as we embarked on our separate paths, and thankfully, we are succeeding in that endeavor. Our bond remains strong because we created three wonderful children together. We promised to make this transition as smooth as possible for all involved. Some days that comes easily, while other times it feels as if the universe is challenging us.
I often feel like I’m leading a double life. There are moments when I question our decision, only to find reassurance in the simplest tasks, like searching for my daughter’s shoes and experiencing a surge of confidence. When the next wave of sadness hits, I find myself more prepared because I know I am doing what is best for me, my children, and my ex-husband.
I cry often, especially on the day I removed my engagement and wedding rings. I wanted to keep them on longer, but the weekend my partner moved out, I developed an unbearable sensation beneath them. I looked down to find my skin peeling and felt as if I had been stung by a hundred bees. Taking them off and watching them spin on the vanity was heartbreaking, but I knew I wouldn’t put them back on as I cried into a towel. The pain was intense yet oddly liberating, and I marveled at my bare hand, feeling both the weight of loss and the lightness of newfound freedom.
This experience is a blend of liberation and sorrow. It’s freeing to let go of a relationship that no longer nurtures you. You can miss someone without wishing for the past, and that contradiction can be bewildering. Some days I drift, merely trying to survive, while on others, I feel empowered and ready to conquer the world.
There are instances when bright sunlight is overwhelming, and I long for comfort. On those days, I can hardly gather my thoughts, feeling utterly drained. I never knew this level of exhaustion was possible. It’s filled with shame, a sense of failure, and an unnatural feeling of being stripped bare. Yet, as I peel back my layers, I realize I am the one in control of this process. I can only move forward, one step at a time.
Divorce can be a relentless challenge. I experience a whirlwind of emotions, striving to be the best mother possible, while also reminding myself that I don’t need to compensate for the end of my marriage to their father. I refuse to bear that burden, nor would I ever want him to.
One crucial lesson I’ve gleaned from this journey is that when you are ready to make a life-altering decision, you will. You will move toward it, even if fear clings to you. If you choose to stay in your marriage, that is your path. If you decide to leave, that is equally valid. You may find your thoughts oscillating between both extremes as you contemplate your next steps.
Ending a marriage isn’t a straightforward process. Each experience is unique, and it often signifies shedding an old version of yourself. Before you can find solace, you may feel even more lost. You will grapple with doubts, feeling shattered while holding yourself together by sheer willpower. But deep down, a voice will guide you. You will push through the pain, peel away the layers, and move toward your own truth — not anyone else’s, just yours. You can do this.