Ten Years Out: Timeline of Healing From Divorce
By Adriana Verdad
My divorce defines me.
And I’m okay with it….
Recently, I went out for drinks. I met someone at the bar, and after we got to talking we discovered some absolutely crazy parallels between our marriages, our divorces, and even our former spouses remarrying. Yes, mine will be remarrying in less than two weeks if you can believe it.
As the conversation went on, there were moments I felt bad I was talking so much in the past. As much as I openly write about it, and like confronting it, knowing that in doing so I am actually continuing to heal, it’s not really something I like to talk about for too long. I find that it bores people, but she wasn’t bored. I find that people think it’s odd to talk in the past so much, but I don’t do it because I’m not over it.
I found myself doing it, because as much as I know I am not alone, I feel alone a lot. Alone in what I have been through. Not many people can understand what I have been through. They can care, empathize, sympathize even, but they don’t get it like I do. They can’t. It’s not their fault, and I don’t harbor resentment that most people cannot possibly begin to fathom the fear, the terror, the anger, and the sadness that I have been through.
I started writing at the urging of my friends. They told me I had a way of phrasing things; they told me my stories were funny, they told me my story deserved to be told. I thought it certainly couldn’t hurt to share my funny, and sad, stories with others.
I get messages from people that my writing speaks to them, or has helped them, or they thank me for sharing what I do. That keeps me going. That, and the fact that a totally unexpected side effect of me sharing my very personal life with others is that I would heal myself.
But I realize now, that in doing so, in sharing these very personal stories with you, and just in my private life as well, that my divorce defines me.
Now, when I say that, I certainly don’t mean that it’s the biggest aspect of my life, because it isn’t. Think about it. What else defines me? Being a mother defines me, my career defines me, my blog even defines me at this point. It doesn’t mean I am only a mother, or a writer, or even just a divorcee (I’ve always wanted to say that word even once to try it on for size). It is not the end of who I am, but yes, it is very much a part of who I am.
Were it not for my marriage I wouldn’t be a mother, maybe not even a writer. I also wouldn’t be a divorcee. Furthermore, I wouldn’t have endured years of emotional abuse, years that sometimes come back to haunt me. Years that while they tore down who I used to be, also helped build the woman that I am. And is that a bad thing?
How can I take something, that was such a big part of my life, that played such a huge role in creating the person I am, and judge myself for it being such a big part of my story? How can I act as if it doesn’t matter, or doesn’t define me?
I suppose I could lie to myself, and tell myself that my divorce doesn’t define me, but that wouldn’t be authentic, and I pride myself on being authentic.
The fact is, that in my day to day life, there are always times when I catch myself slipping in the words, “my children’s father”, “my X”, “when I was married…”, because it took up the space of half of my life, so to pretend it didn’t exist now seems absurd to me.
That doesn’t mean I have to live in the past, or carry all that hurt with me, but to say that there aren’t times that those old feelings of insecurity don’t pop up is a bold faced lie. I am not the person I am sitting here at this laptop if I am not the woman who has been through hell and back.
I can hold my head high. I am moving forward. I am moving on, and I am doing it with grace, style, and an impressive amount of strength, but I am still the woman who allowed a man to control her for over two decades. I may be in a place where I would never allow that again, but to pretend that part of me doesn’t exist is not only untrue, but it is not fair to who I am today.
It is not acknowledging that the woman before you today has had her share of trials. It is pretending as if I don’t know what it’s like to love someone who will never love you back, because they can only love themselves. It is as if I had a disease that ravaged my body for 20 years, and once it’s healed, I never speak of it again. It is most definitely a part of the words you can use to define me. And I am more than okay with that.
I have to recognize the bad, to know there is good. Think about it. Without birth, there would be no death. Without love, there would be no heartbreak. Without good, there would be no evil. The world exists within polarities. My divorce defines me, an aspect of who I am anyway. It’s not the final word on who I am. It is not the end of my story, but it is a chapter I would remiss to ignore.
So yes, it felt weird to be sharing these things with someone, other than my page. It felt almost “wrong” at first, to speak these horrible things from my past, to not relive them, but to talk about them as if they were as simple as which melon I chose at the store last night. It created a sense of connecting on a deeper level with someone else. They made me feel not so alone. They made me realize I am the divorcee who was in an abusive relationship. They helped me to be okay with the fact that I will always have a small part of me that asks myself if I am good enough. They remind me there were worse times than what I?m going through now.
Lately has been a bit tough on me mentally. While I am obviously in a much better place, I have a lot on my mind, and being a single mom, there’s no one to help get everything accomplished. My mind goes pretty much non-stop, and I’ve even had to change my anti-anxiety meds to actually get some sleep.
But, when we talked, we talked about how there was a time we would have dreamed to be exactly where we are now. That’s not to say we have accomplished all our goals, or that we are done achieving, but there was a time, not that long ago in the scheme of things, that we feared we would not be where we are now. She, having purchased her own car and home, in only her name, and having a successful career in her own right. These are things that some might take for granted, but I know exactly how she feels. You see, my car is only in my name because his credit was so bad we couldn’t add it. I have gone from someone who, at one point, had $55 to my name, and no idea how to pay my bills, to someone who has made that car payment every month, and it’s not small. My only debt is student loans and the car note, which I hope to pay off in less than a year. I no longer receive disconnect notices, or fear each day for how I will take care of my family, because I am doing it on my own. There was a time, that I can clearly remember, not knowing how I would do all this’ and when I was married, my financial situation was actually far worse, on much more income.
I am getting ready to take my kids to see the ocean, something my oldest has asked to see since four years old, and we could never afford together. I am doing it. I told her that I love paying my bills, because I can. I suppose most people hate paying bills, and I can understand that too, after all, it greatly diminishes your expendable income. But for someone who used to live in constant fear of money, and anxiety that there was never enough, there’s enough.
While I still have the goal of traveling more, and buying my own home, with only my name on it, I can recognize, and be proud of the woman I am today.
So yes, my divorce does define me. It has turned me into a self-made woman. It has made me stronger than I ever dreamed I would be. It has forced me to spend time on my own, getting to know this beautiful soul that was housed within this body all these years. I am not upset that it defines me either. I am actually quite proud.
What defines you? What tragedy, or difficulty from your past has helped create the person you are today? Something from your past that you once wanted to run from and leave far behind? Embrace it. I encourage you to embrace those difficult parts of us we find hard to swallow, because they make up exactly who you are today. And when you begin to reflect on the things you have left to accomplish, remember how far you have come from the person you were. Think of how proud that person would be to see you today. I know the woman I was two years ago would not only be shocked at the woman I am today, but she would be proud, and completely inspired.
Much love,
Adriana
I spent over two decades with a narcissistic sociopath, but after leaving him, I have found myself. I’m learning to love life on the other side of marriage, love, and life. I write so that I can help others learn to love the other side as well.
Check out Adriana’a blog, Love the Other Side!
Ten years ago today, I awoke excited for the day and for my life. By the time the sun set that night, life as I knew it was gone.
Those “turn-on-a-dime” moments become so significant after they occur, cleaving our lives into “before” and “after” and leaving us permanently changed. That single day or single moment carries the weight of an entire era, as though that terrible thing didn’t exist prior to that moment of discovery.
At first, that day is heavy. A dreaded anniversary that marks the end of innocence and the beginning of grief. As it approaches, it pulls the memories along with it, threatening to overwhelm once again.
During my first few travels through July 11 after that terrible day, I again inhabited my body on the floor after receiving the text that changed everything. Sharp pains would travel along my ribs, tracing the lines where the wracking sobs violently tore tender muscle. I felt that sudden emptiness, like an unexpected drop on some horrifying carnival ride. Fear would again twist my gut, resolutely wringing out any sense of hope.
That day was a wormhole, providing a direct connection between past and present.
Over time, as the “after” begins to grow, that moment slowly loses some of its weight as the memories gain to lose their tenacious grip. It’s a day of significance but no longer a day to fear or dread.
And then eventually, that day becomes one of celebration. Not for what was lost, but for what has been overcome. It becomes a day that marks progress.
And that’s where I am today, ten years from the day that changed everything. I remember that broken woman keening on the cold, hard floor, but I no longer am that woman. Instead, I am the woman that learned to walk again and stubbornly built a new life from those ruins.
My husband discussed some hard stuff with me the other day. I’m proud of him for his self-awareness and courage and I’m also proud of me. Because my response, both in moment and in the days after, truly reveals how much I’ve grown since my first marriage.
In my first marriage, I would have overreacted to something similar. I would have instantly gone to defcon 1 with my fears leading the charge. And my reaction would have been the furthest thing from a safe space. In fact, it would have announced, “I can’t handle this, so you need to protect me from it.” Ugh.
A few years ago, my insides probably would have thrown a panic party while I worked to maintain a calm exterior. An improvement, for sure, but still not ideal.
But now? I not only responded in a calm manner. I felt calm. I didn’t try to catastrophize or worry about what could, maybe, possibly happen. I just listened. Instead of being in my own fear, I could be with him.
In my first marriage, I was afraid of any potential blemishes. They were threatening, something to be feared. And so I felt a sense of disgust at any sign of imperfection in myself and in my first husband. Of course, since neither one of us could uphold this charge, there was a constant low-lying tension between my expectations and reality.
It’s different now. Which is especially good since my now-husband and I have officially reached the age of mammograms and colonoscopies. It’s hard to maintain that veneer of perfection when a nurse half your age is squishing your boobs against a metal plate.
I have so much more tolerance – and compassion – for the struggles that we all have. I no longer see the struggle as a sign of weakness and I enthusiastically celebrate the courage and discipline evident in those that don’t shy away from their particular battles.
Before, I expected perfection but would put up with a lot as long as I didn’t have to look too closely.
Now, my boundaries are set further back. They allow for mistakes and the opportunity to be human and messy. But at the same time, they are less tolerant of bullshit and will no longer be consoled with pleasing words that are spoken in place of action.
We are not defined by how we handle the easy times. Instead, character is truly revealed in how someone handles the hard stuff.
My first husband’s response to struggle was to hide, lie and act out of shame. After experiencing the brutal conclusion of that approach, I intentionally sought out someone with courage who’s default setting is in revealing rather than concealing.
Yet again, I’m filled with gratitude for what I endured ten years ago. It may have been a conflagration, but it was one that prepared me for the growth that needed to happen.
There are the good reasons to reenter the dating scene after divorce – you’re happy with your life and you’re looking for someone to share it with, you’ve gained wisdom from healing and you’re ready to put those lessons into action, after reflection and hard work you’re better in touch with want you want out of a relationship.
And there are the reasons that many of us begin dating again – we’re looking for distraction from the pain, our self-esteem has taken a beating and we’re seeking validation and finally a fear of being alone with our thoughts is prompting us to remain busy with others.
Sound familiar?
I know it does for me. As much as I tried to convince myself that I was dating for purely noble and mature reasons, the truth was actually much more cliched. I wanted to feel wanted, desired. Spending the evening with the man de jour was significantly more fun than spending that same time processing my grief in my journal. And finally, as long as I had another date to look forward to on the calendar, I didn’t have to consider the very scary possibility that I would be alone forever.
And dating DID make me feel better. At least in the moment. Through the eyes of the men I met, I slowly began to reform the image I had of myself. I was able to begin to see my strengths again, instead of just my brokenness. I began to feel alive again. Hopeful, even, for the future that stretched out in front of me.
But dating is by no means the only – or even best – way to reach those milestones. In fact, here are six ways to reaffirm yourself that DON’T require dating:
Travel is amazing. Solo travel is life-changing.
Traveling alone provides you with opportunities to get out of your head and ditch your typical life-script. Travel forces you out of your comfort zone and requires that you look at the world – and yourself – in a new light.
This doesn’t have to be any time-consuming or wallet-draining adventure. Even a day trip to a nearby and unfamiliar town can be enough to shake up your expectations and help you find what makes your soul sing.
With the depressed mood that frequently follows divorce, it’s easy to let the appearance slide. And we often don’t even think about addressing it again until there is someone that we’re hoping to impress.
But why wait? You don’t need a romantic interest within sight in order to pay attention to what makes you feel attractive. Why not dress to impress yourself?
We’re often our own worst enemy after divorce. We take up residence within our own heads and beat ourselves up for not being healed already. So why not turn that focus outward?
We’re often gentler with ourselves in the process of learning something new; we accept the process and the mistakes along the way. It can be a good reminder that we can be kind to ourselves even while we are working towards a challenging goal. As a bonus, as you begin to master the new skill or topic, you gain confidence and broaden your sense of your potential.
You were a team – you and your spouse. And so it feels strange and alienating to now be a solo operator. Why not find a new team that you can play a vital role in? It can be anything from a weekly trivia meetup to a monthly kickball game through your work.
After divorce, it’s easy to feel as though you no longer matter. A team is a concrete way to remind yourself that you are needed and appreciated both for what you can offer and for who you are. After all, it feels really good to hear, “We missed you last week.”
You may be a newbie when it comes to this whole divorce thing, but you’re an expert at something. If you’re not sharing your wisdom already, look for opportunities to become a teacher in your areas of expertise.
When we teach, we are planting a part of ourselves in another and nurturing that seed until it grows. There is little in this world that is more life-affirming than watching knowledge spread and grow.
Part of the challenge in divorce recovery is the fear that we’re somehow doing it wrong. That we’re progressing too slowly or not responding in the right ways. And if you’re isolated in your healing, it can be easy to believe those assertions as they remain unchallenged.
A support group – either in-person or virtual – provides you with the opportunity to witness the immense variety in the recovery paths taken by others and also gain a sense of the commonalities that unite us all. Furthermore, when we give space to honor our pain, it no longer fights for supremacy in the rest of our lives.