Finding Happiness After an Unwanted Divorce

My divorce certainly did not present itself as a gift, trussed up with a big red bow like a Lexus in a Christmas commercial. Instead, it was a big ugly box, filled to the brim with explosives. It was a present I never anticipated and one I never desired. But, as it came with a “no return” policy, I was determined to make the best of it. From Rewrapping Divorce As a Gift

When you are facing down the bullet train of a divorce you never wanted and cannot seem to halt, all you can think about is the devastation of losing your marriage. Your partner. Your best friend. The pain is unimaginable and a future without your spouse feels impossible.

I know. I’ve been there.

And I’ve also made it through.

Now, over five years out, I can say that my tsunami divorce was the worst thing to ever happen to me.

And also the best.

Sometimes you have to lose what you wanted.

To get what you need.

And sometimes you have to decide you want to feel better.

More than you want to hold onto the past.

Let Go of the Marriage You Thought You Had

You didn’t have a good marriage.

Maybe you thought you did. Maybe you still do.

But the truth is that it wasn’t the marriage you thought you had. Because if it was good, it would not be ending.

I had the hardest time accepting that truth. From my perspective, my marriage was great. And sometimes, when I think back at the wonderful moments we shared, I still do. I was happy. I had a good marriage.

But he didn’t. And it wasn’t.

In some ways, that realization was freeing. The divorce wasn’t the end of something good. It was the end of something broken. Even if I didn’t see the cracks.

You didn’t have the marriage you thought you had. It’s time to let it go.

I know his name. His face. His birthday. His social security number. His family. Yet I still do not know who he is. However, I can tell you who he was. He was my best friend. My lover. My confidant. He was the man who built a toy chest for our friend’s son’s birthday. He was the man whose scent instantly calmed me and whose arms held me like they were molded from my frame. He was a voracious reader and he devoured science fiction and fantasy novels. His favorite series was The Dark Tower, by Stephen King. He hated tomatoes and loved Sweetwater IPA. He preferred dark clothes and refused to wear V-necks. He wore his watch on his right wrist, the face to the inside of his arm. He was the man who patiently built me an office and then rebuilt it for me when I grew weary of the desk where I spent hours writing papers. He was a quick learner, but a poor student in school. He was a fan of Apple, Banana Republic, and Alice in Chains. He was never athletic due to bad knees, although he started to work out once the pounds encroached with age.  He was the man who stayed up all night for a week with our third puppy who came to us with kennel cough. He was so confident that I would win Teacher of the Year, that he ordered flowers before the votes were announced. He was the man I turned to for advice and comfort. He was my everything.

He was all of these things, yet he was also the man who left his wife of ten years with a text message. He was the man who hid debts and stole money from accounts. He was the man who wooed an innocent woman, told her nothing but lies, and married her although he was already wed. He was the man that locked the dogs in the basement and drove off, not knowing that they would survive. From Who Is He?

It’s Okay to Grieve. And It’s Okay to Move On.

An unwanted divorce is an enormous loss. You are losing the image you had of your spouse and your marriage. You are losing your present life. And you are even losing your hopes and dreams for the future. It touches every area of your life.

It’s okay to mourn the loss of what was and what would be.

I spent hours keening in my room, my pillow muffling my cries so that couldn’t be heard. I ran hundreds of miles with tears streaming down my cheeks, blurring the path in front of me. I would pick up the phone, just wanting to hear his voice, before I would remember that it wasn’t mine to hear anymore.

And I also made strides to begin my new life. I wrote and posted goals for the year. I made new friends and tried new things. I dreamed about what I wanted for my next chapter and started taking baby steps towards those aspirations.

By all means, grieve.

And also live.

I would have moments, even days, where the suffering was unseen. But its absence was always short-lived and my brain had a trigger-finger that would herald its return at the slightest provocation. My body held the memories like the discs in a juke-box, ready to play with the touch of a button. As long as I didn’t approach, I was okay. But as soon as I recounted the tale, my voice would tremble and the pain would come rushing back as though it had been lying in wait.

And so I kept telling the story. And with each retelling, the heartache faded a little more. And the suffering grew weaker. My once constant companion became like a distant friend – we may keep in touch on Facebook, but we have no real need for face to face. From The Evolution of Suffering

Don’t Sign Away Your Right to Happiness

It’s funny. In a divorce, people will fight over the house. The retirement. The cars. But they often forget to fight for what really matters.

Your own well-being.

Be too stubborn to allow your ex to control your happiness. They may have ended the marriage, but they didn’t end you.

My early inroads to happiness were initiated out of spite. I went to a party at the lake soon after the text, mentally saying, “I’ll show him that I can still laugh.” I accepted a date, thinking “I’ll show him that I’m still desirable.” I went hiking on “our” favorite trail, muttering “You can’t take this from me” with every step.

In time, my spite faded, but my tenacity did not.

I was more determined than ever to live a good life. To show that I am stronger than what happened to me.

If you can’t because of, smile in spite of.

I began to realize that by telling him that he made me happy, I was putting all of the responsibility for my own well-being on his shoulders.  That is a huge burden to carry and one that was unfair to him.  I had given him the power to make me happy.  Which means he also had the power to make me unhappy.

If I had left that power in his hands, he would have packed up my happiness with the rest of his belongings when he walked out the door.  I snatched it back from him, determined to find a way to regain ownership of my well-being. From You Make Me Happy

Just Because You Can’t Picture It, Doesn’t Mean You Can’t Create It

It’s difficult to imagine things that we have not experienced. It is one of the reasons that we fear loss more than we value gain. And when you’re trying to picture a life without your spouse after an unwanted divorce? The brain simply seizes, locking in on what is missing.

Your brain is only telling you part of the story. Yes, there is loss. And there is also possibility.

In the beginning, all I could think about was that I wanted what I had had. Then I realized I could create something even better.

It’s hard in the beginning to think about your future, unbound by the marriage you thought you would have forever. We tend to limit our thoughts and, in turn, ourselves.

The ending may have been unwanted. Now create a life you want.

Bloom where you’re planted.

Everything’s going to be okay.

That was my mantra for that first, awful post-divorce year.

Everything’s going to be okay.

I would repeat those words in my head as I lay sleepless every night.

Everything’s going to be okay.

My friends and family would offer those words as comfort, reminding me that the “now” was not the always.

Everything’s going to be okay.

I imagined some future where he would face consequences and I would be relieved of mine.

Everything’s going to be okay.

Sometimes, I railed against that platitude, uncertain how anything could ever be okay again.

Everything’s going to be okay.

But still, I held onto those words like a life raft, wanting to be pulled free from the pain.

Everything’s going to be okay.

Those words were my Xanax against the panic, the overwhelming fear of unwanted change.

Everything’s going to be okay.

One day I realized that it really was okay. Maybe it wasn’t the okay I imagined, but it was okay nonetheless. From Everything’s Going to Be Okay

Different Can Be Good. Or Even Better.

Yes, it is hard adapting to life after an unwelcome divorce. You are forced to change when you were happy with the status quo. It’s not fair. Life rarely is.

You can’t go back. But you can always move on.

And one day you just might find that you’re happy that your life didn’t go as planned.

I know I am.

So now here I am. Open and bleeding. No walls, no buried head. I need to learn to be here, to stay vulnerable, without allowing myself to panic and either hide or grasp too tightly. It’s not easy. It doesn’t feel safe.

I want reassurances. Promises. But the truth? That’s only a bandaid. I need to relax and breathe through my fear. I know I’ll be okay, I just need to do a better job of convincing myself. After all, the only true abandonment is when we abandon our true selves. And that’s one I can control. From Vulnerable

Here’s my personal message to those in acute divorce pain. In it, I give some strategies for moving on when all you want is for everything to be the way it was.

And a dose of laughter and truth:

So get out there and live!