The reasons for my divorce are complicated and their own story, one that is between my ex-partner and myself. The Cliff Notes are that for a myriad of reasons, not being together as a couple anymore was the best decision for our family. There were issues on both sides, no one is to blame, and we had A LOT of very important, mature conversations that, frankly, should have happened long before a wedding. A few weeks after my ex moved out, our three-and-a-half-year-old kid looked at us and said, “Thank you for not fighting anymore.” I think that explains enough.
What I feel the need to write about are the reactions. I didn’t know what to expect from friends and family (and, as I was soon to find out, strangers). I had kept many of my relationship “issues” away from family — not wanting to harm our image as a couple should we work things out — so it came as a surprise to some of them. Though, for the most part, family and friends (especially) have been supportive, there is a certain rhetoric around divorce that really started to bother me.
“Marriage is hard. You just need to try more.”
I understand where this statement comes from. We live in a culture of seventy-two day marriages, marriages for money, marriages for fame. There is this idea that marriage isn’t taken “seriously” anymore, or that committed relationships in general aren’t taken seriously anymore. However, the “marriage is hard” argument has become overused, and when dealing with someone who has tried and tried and realizes that their family is heading down a dark path and divorce is the only way out, a very hurtful and damaging statement.
Marriage IS hard. It’s hard living with someone, communicating with someone, making your needs and desires known, sharing a life — talking about finances, the “boring, adult” stuff. All of that is hard. And marriage takes compromise. It takes each person waking up every morning and choosing to make the relationship work.
However, compromise is different than sacrifice. What I found myself doing was sacrificing fundamental parts of myself to try and make the relationship work. I don’t blame my ex for this, I did that to myself. But I somehow had lost myself in an effort to do the “right thing,” and all it did was hurt my partner and my son. And “hard” is different than “difficult” or a “constant uphill battle.” Yes, there will be arguments and disagreements, but every day shouldn’t be a battle. Every day shouldn’t feel like either walking on eggshells or trudging through a foot of mud.
Had I realized that earlier, I would have saved us both a lot of pain.
When I first started telling people about the divorce, a lot of response I got was that “choosing love” idea. But it takes two people for a relationship to work. It takes trust, communication, openness, and honesty — things my ex and I had lost or never had.
Divorce is an incredibly personal, difficult decision. And what it comes down to is that no one, but the people in it, knows the dynamics of the relationship. When we first made the decision, I had my week of crying, of freaking out, of feeling lost. But then I gathered myself up and started working towards making the best life I can for myself and my kid. Many people took my pragmatic, positive attitude as either not caring or the divorce being solely my decision. I know there are a lot of people out there who are disappointed in me. But if I’ve learned anything from becoming a mother, and now going through a divorce, it’s that I can’t control how other people act or what they say, but I can control how I react and how those things make me feel.
I’m learning that it’s okay for me to do what I know is best for my family, despite what others think. It all goes back to that old metaphor about putting on your own oxygen mask first. I don’t think that’s selfish. If I am going to be a good mom (and eventually a good partner again), I need to make sure I’m taking care of myself, too — that includes physical, emotional, and intellectual needs.
I know I’ll hold a stigma — maybe only for a little while, maybe forever — but I have learned more about myself, love, and relationships over the past four years than I ever have in my life. For that I am thankful.
And I know that if a friend ever comes to me in the same situation, I won’t fall back on “marriage is hard,” or “well, did you try?” or “love is a choice.” Instead, I’ll offer support. I’ll be someone to listen. I’ll help with a new budget, or childcare, or going out for drinks — whatever that person needs. The best response I ever heard was, “I’m sorry this happened to you. What can I do to be supportive?”