We accept the people need help at the beginning and end of life.
Divorce is the end of one life and the beginning of another.
You will need help.
But how do you get it? Finding the support you need can be challenging, especially when you’re likely facing time and money constraints. Here are 7 ways that you can find and create the support you need until you can stand on your own again.
My ex had a birthday recently. His 39th.
I wonder if he’s still alive. At the end of it all, he seemed to be on a collision course with an early death.
I wonder if any wrinkles or grey hairs have started to appear. I used to look forward to growing old with him.
I wonder if he still lives in the area. I hope not. In fact, I would like it if he took a job at the research station in Greenland. Or maybe started growing potatoes on the moon.
I wonder if he’s lonely. Or scared. Or still addicted.
I wonder what he thinks about our past. His actions. My reactions.
I wonder if he’s living an honest life now. Or if he’s still playing hide and go seek. Only without the seeking.
I wonder if he’s happy. I hope he is. I had years of wishing him ill. I’m past that now.
It’s such a strange feeling having somebody go from being your every-thing and your constant to suddenly being a no-thing and a gaping absence. I don’t love him. I don’t hate him. I don’t even miss him. But after so many years, it’s hard not to wonder about him.
And I wonder if he ever wonders about me too.
And here’s what I really, really, really wish I could tell him.
For the entire story, see Lessons From the End of a Marriage.
This is a vending machine located in my school.
Notice the words above the money slot.
And then look at the product available for sale.
Every time I walk by, I have to chuckle.
It’s a reminder that we always have choice, even though the choices available may produce the same end result.
The headline on my news feed grabbed my attention.
Kelly Ripa Wraps Up First Week Back to ‘Live!’ With Awkward Divorce Comment to Michael Strahan
The names didn’t garner my notice – I haven’t seen Kelly Ripa since she was a newbie next to Regis and I had never even heard Michael Strahan’s name at that point.
What drew my eye was “awkward divorce.” And so I clicked.
And grew confused. I have not seen the clip, but from what I have read, the comment didn’t seem to merit the backlash it has been getting. The, “How dare she bring up his divorces?” As though the mere mention of divorce is taboo.
Fueling the stigma and feeding the shame surrounding divorce.
Maybe I’m just desensitized from years of teaching middle schoolers who randomly shout out things like, “How old were you when you first kissed a boy?” in the middle of a lesson on factoring polynomials, but it takes a lot to offend or surprise me.
Certainly more than referencing divorce.
Especially when it’s part of a question with the intent to learn (which it seems was Kelly Ripa’s goal as they were discussing bird’s nest coparenting).
Divorce is “the thing that shall not be named” in our current culture, as though the utterance of those two syllables will bring it to your doorstep.
It’s time for divorce to come out from the shadows. For those impacted to be able to speak without fear of judgment. For those with questions to feel free to ask them. And if they go unanswered, it is because of personal choice rather than from societal pressure to remain mute.
I have been part of more conversations about the intricacies of childbirth around lunch tables than I have about the end of relationships. And yet the experience is just about as universal.
Divorce is most often discussed with other divorcees. Behind closed doors or in members-only groups. But they’re not the only ones who can benefit from that discussion. Because those seeking to prevent it can learn from those who have endured it. By making it taboo, it only increases the mystery, shame and fear surrounding it. Talking about it, rather than increase its likelihood, may actually have the opposite effect as lessons are passed around.
Divorce is hell, but talking about it doesn’t have to be awkward.
Texas has been getting pummeled with repeated rounds of severe storms. And Texans aren’t surprised. Because they’ve come to expect these epic storms. It’s familiar territory.
And once you’ve been a Texan (raises hand), you’ve always been a Texan. With a Texan’s memories and expectations.
These are some pictures of flooding in San Antonio, where I spent my formative years.
From a young age, I was schooled to avoid creeks and low lying areas during any kind of decent rainfall. In driver’s education, we spent the better part of a class learning about the signs of a flooded roadway and the repercussions of ignoring those signs. This was harder than you may imagine, as the literal measuring sticks at flood-prone intersections usually ended up underwater themselves. Even before I started driving, I learned alternate routes through the city that avoided the roads that had a tendency to submerge. That included a stretch of I-10 through downtown.
As a child, I watched with horror the footage of a school bus swept off the road by raging floodwaters, teenagers desperately grasping onto trees awaiting helicopter rescue. When I went tubing down the Guadalupe River every summer, I would stare up, way up, at the high water marks on the trees and rocks. I was stranded by water several times, unable to leave the house or unable to return.
As you can imagine, this stayed with me.
Even though Atlanta’s soil is actually permeable (unlike the slooow-draining limestone under a dusting of dirt that supports San Antonio), I still react defensively when the rain starts pounding. I mentally catalog potentially flooded roadways (a rarity here) and think about the closest high ground.
When my ex (also from San Antonio) and I purchased our first home in Atlanta, we viewed it with Texas eyes and insisted upon full coverage flood insurance even though we were not officially in a flood plain. We didn’t care. We saw that small, tame creek and didn’t trust it. Because we had both witnessed the incredible transformation of trickles into torrents in mere moments. In our ten years there, we never did use that insurance (although the flood map was redrawn a few years before we left and the house was deemed to be in the flood plain. Validation:) )
Of course, we didn’t buy the insurance with the expectation of using it. We bought it just in case. Protection against an unlikely but previously experienced outcome.
I didn’t have cheating, lying husband insurance.
Perhaps I should have. But that was an unexpected storm, one that I had never experienced and never saw coming.
One that I have now experienced.
And it stays with me.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 