Breathe. In times of trauma and transition, it’s all-too-easy to limit the breath. Set aside some time, sit or lie down in a safe and comfortable space and invite the breath in. Put one hand on your belly and one hand on your chest and feel them expand.
Be careful what you say to others. Once it is uttered, it cannot be unsaid. Speak what you feel. Give voice to your fears. Try not to lash out in blame.
And when you slip up (and you WILL slip up), be gentle with yourself. And vow to keep working at getting better.
Day Thirteen
Take note of your support system. Who and what do you have in place to help you through the next several months? Are there any gaps? Brainstorm how to fill them in.
Compose a message to your primary supporters. Let them know specifically what they can do to help and also communicate anything you don’t want from them.
Day Fourteen
Get outside. You’ve spent two weeks feeling like your world is over. Get into the environment (I don’t care if it’s too hot/ too cold/ too wet – just do it!) and observe the natural cycles and the grand scale of life.
Your life isn’t over. It’s a season change. A painful and sudden one. But a change, not an end.
Day Fifteen
Give yourself permission to grieve. You may feel as though you don’t have the right to mourn because everyone involved is still alive. You may feel as though you have not earned the right to be sad because you were somehow not enough. You may feel pressure and blame from others for “failing” at marriage.
That’s all bullocks.
Divorce is a loss not only of the past but of the imagined future. And it hurts like hell.
Day Sixteen
Lose yourself. Allow yourself to be fully consumed by something – a book, a movie, a Netflix binge, a birthday party, a day at the zoo with the kids.
For a few hours, set aside reality and just be in the moment. When the intrusive thoughts come, gently push them away with a promise to attend to them later. If you’re afraid they’ll ruin the day, set aside some time before the escape to cry yourself dry. I promise, it helps.
Day Seventeen
Tackle the task you’ve been putting off. Maybe this is starting to pack some items. Maybe it’s telling the kids. Or maybe it’s some paperwork the lawyer has asked you to assemble.
Divorce is full of unsavory assignments. And as with anything, procrastination only prolongs the dread. Striking that one thing off you to-do list will help you feel a little lighter. A little more hopeful.
Day Eighteen
Move. Whether you’re vibrating with anxious energy or you feel drained of all vitality, exercise will help you feel better. This doesn’t need to be anything fancy. You’re not looking to win any awards or even to commit to a program. Just move.
Go for a walk, take a yoga or Zumba class, or even just spend some intentional time stretching your body. When we’re stressed, the mind and the body disconnect. Make the intention of the day to begin to reconnect your mind and your body.
Day Nineteen
You don’t have to wait until you are healed to begin living. There are smiles to be found amongst the tears.
So today, find your smile again. You may have to hunt for it. The effort is worth it.
Day Twenty
You have lost so much. You are hurting and scared. Lost and lonely.
But that is not all you are and all you have.
Write a gratitude list (nothing radical yet, that comes much later), enumerating all that you currently have in your life to be thankful for.
Post the list where you see every morning. And read it as you begin each day.
Imagine a world where whenever you find yourself in over your head, an emergency survival guide for your immediate situation would suddenly appear. It would be succinct and on-point, telling you exactly what you need to know to make it through to the next day and only what you need to know to make it to the next day. The guide would be responsive, changing suggestions and recommendations based upon your current circumstances.
Change the wallpaper on your phone and computer to the following message (or something similar):
You may also want to post it around your house. You don’t have to believe it yet. Just post it.
And make sure you can see it when you start calling attorneys.
Day Two
Tell somebody.
Maybe you feel ashamed or guilty. Maybe you want to protect those around you from the situation. Maybe you’re afraid of appearing weak or vulnerable.
Get over it.
You can’t do this alone. Tell a trusted friend or family member what is happening. The trusted part is important. You need an ally, not a saboteur.
Day Three
Find your cry space. Maybe it’s your car in an empty parking lot, the sanctuary in the church across from your office or in the pool, where the water washes the tears away. It only needs to be a place where you feel safe letting down the walls.
Don’t try to pretend that everything is normal. It’s not. Take some time off work. Call in a family member to help care for the children. Let the laundry slide and allow somebody else to head the upcoming presentation.
Allow yourself to not live up to your everyday expectations of yourself. This isn’t everyday.
And beating yourself up won’t help you get any better. So be kind to yourself instead.
Develop your elevator speech. At this point, people around you are going to sense that something is going on, even if they do not know the particulars. And perhaps you don’t want them to know the particulars. Or, even if you’re okay sharing, you’re afraid that the floodgates may open at the wrong time.
Write a one-sentence explanation to give to people. Keep it simple and rehearse it until you can say it without tears or elaboration.
Feel free to steal the one I used after a friend gave it to me – “I’m in the middle of a major life renovation.”
Day Six
Enlist a publicity specialist. Not a professional one, unless you happen to be famous enough that your divorce is in the tabloids, but an informal one. The elevator speech is useful for relative strangers or people on the outside of your circle, but those closer to you will need more information. And if you don’t act proactively, they will either push you to talk before you’re ready or the rumor mill will be activated.
So enlist somebody to deliver the news to those who need to be in the know. Tell them what information you want delivered and what you want to keep private for now.
Day Seven
Check your sleep. At this point, the initial shock has faded into a zombie-like approach to daily life. You are preparing for a marathon, not a sprint. And you need to be rested. If you’re not sleeping, get help. You may need medication. It’s okay. There’s no shame in asking for help.
Sleeping too much is also a sign you may need help. If you’re struggling to simply get out of bed after the first week, it’s time to check in with a doctor or therapist. It’s okay. There’s no shame in asking for help.
Day Eight
Complete a social media and phone purge. Unfriend those who don’t bring you up. Or maybe decide to take a break from social media entirely for a time. Clean out your phone of photos you don’t want to stumble across or texts that bring tears. You don’t have to delete anything right now, just perform the digital equivalent of taking the photos off the wall.
One suggestion I read for those of you that have children – change your soon-to-be-ex’s name on your phone to “co parent.” It’s a powerful reminder of what is most important in a divorce with children involved.
And while you’re at your purge, examine your physical space as well. Sleeping alone but your sheets still carry the scent of the-one-who-is-now-gone? Wash them. A special gift taunting you from its resting spot? Put it away for now. Your brain will bring up enough painful memories on its own. No reason to help it along.
Day Nine
Nurture yourself today. Get a massage. Go to a nice restaurant and savor the service. Sleep in. Whatever sends the message to you that you are valuable and special. Do it. Feel it.
I bet by now your weight is starting to change. Either you respond to stress by refusing to eat or you use food to soothe the void in your heart. Either way, after several days, the effects will show. Don’t worry about them yet. Just make sure that your pants aren’t falling off.
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.
You are learning to breathe again.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 