Things No One Told Me About Divorce

Image courtesy of Sira Anamwong on

Image courtesy of Sira Anamwong on

So I’m now a separated, on my way to being divorced woman.

Just a few months ago I thought we were a happy couple and I was delighting in my housewifery.

Truthfully, I knew deep down my husband wasn’t fully committed to me, to us, to the farm I built for us. I even brought it up to him several times, giving him the opportunity to tell me straight out that he wasn’t willing to walk the same path I was any longer. He didn’t.

Deeper within me, I knew there was someone else. Maybe more than one. It was all online affairs, that’s all I’ve been told it ever was. I just had no proof. My proof came the morning of our son’s eighth birthday when I got to see naked pictures of a pretty, doe eyed girl from Canada displayed across his phone via Snapchat. Kitten, she was aptly called.

My world was decimated in the span of a couple of hours. I made my husband tell our son why he told us to leave. He refused at first, but finally gave him a stilted half truth.

Within three hours of finding the pictures, I was on my way to a new life. As of this writing, it’s been five weeks since I’ve laid eyes on the man I traveled 36 hours on a bus to meet, the man I gave four children (only one earthly), the man I loved more than I loved myself.

In that time I’ve learned some jagged pearls of wisdom. Grab a drink and let’s dive in, okay?

It hurts. Like hell.

It’s like the person you loved died, and only you know. You’re staring at your marriage, it’s not breathing, but no one seems to hear you screaming that it’s dead, the person you loved is dead. They see your spouse as a living, breathing, perfectly fine creature. They don’t get it. Only a few people who have been through it too understand what the hell you’re talking about.

Divorce has been made out to be this simple, easy little thing. It’s not. It’s earth shattering, mind numbing, heartbreaking hell. Oh and my divorce (so far) has been pretty amicable. I pity you sincerely if you’re going through a terrible one.

That it’s like you’ve been disemboweled and your organs have been spread across a pristine white table and yet, you should be dead, but you’re still alive. Chances are good you walk around with a hole where your heart used to live, you forget to eat and sleep, and you don’t remember what a shower feels like. You probably stink. Sorry, but it’s true.

That feeling could go on for days, or weeks. Or longer. I don’t know.

That people will flock to you in the first few days, wanting the dirt on your story, then they’ll stop talking to you. Thanks, assholes.

That you’ll have a ton of uncomfortable calls to make, especially if you were a stay at home mom with no income of your own. Social services has been incredibly helpful and kind to me. I’m grateful for food stamps and the fact that my husband is offering alimony. Not everyone has been as lucky as I have been.

That if you were a stay at home mom, you have very few marketable job skills. You’ve got decisions to make regarding school, work, childcare, where you’ll live, and more. Oh and you have almost no time to make those choices. Good luck!

That if you’re really lucky, you’ll have good people who take you and your kid(s) in and help you figure shit out. If you’re not so lucky, you’ll be penniless and contemplating giving blow jobs behind the Piggly Wiggly to make rent.

That you’ll forget so many important things when you leave and then freak out about all the things you need to buy.

That you’ll be splitting all assets, and you probably won’t get everything that you want.

That the thought will cross your mind pretty much daily of your spouse touching another person the way he touched you and it will gut you every single time.

That you’ll hurt because everything you knew is gone.

That you’ll consider going back because life may not have been perfect but it was comfortable. It was your shitty diaper. It was warm, and it was yours.

That you’ll alternate between excusing your spouse for being an asshole and straight out calling him/her an asshole.

That you’ll possibly hate them and love them at the same time.

That you’ll want to recklessly do all the things your spouse never wanted you to do. Full disclosure, mine included cutting all of my hair off and getting a nose ring. My shoulder length hair is gone but I haven’t procured a nose ring yet. IT WILL HAPPEN.

That you’ll range from feeling like the Genie in Aladdin gaining his freedom¬†to wondering if anyone will ever want you again.

That you’ll feel totally disgusting and undesirable.

That you’ll dissect every second of your whole relationship.

That you’ll suddenly see all of your lover’s flaws and wonder why the hell you put up with it all for so long.

That you’ll be tempted to call them in the middle of the night.

That you’ll feel guilty about laughing and smiling and going out alone. Even if it’s just for a cup of coffee with a friend.

That you’ll watch your children sleep and cry¬†because you know they’re dying inside and you can’t do a damn thing about it.

That you’ll range from wanting to become a nymphomaniac to being a nun and back again within the space of a few minutes.

That you’ll cry about the stupidest things. All. The. Time.

That you’ll want to talk to your spouse a million times a day or never again, and that will go back and forth as well.

That you have no idea who you are. None. You and your spouse were a package deal for so long that you forgot how awesome you were. Alone.

That you suddenly realize you’re X years old and you’ve spent X years with the person you thought was the one and it was all a waste.

Wait, you’ll realize again you’re X amount of years old and then freak out about no one wanting you.

But why would you EVER want anyone to touch you again? Ugh feelings!

That you’ll have to find a new group of friends because any married friends you may have had will no longer want to hang out with Debbie Divorce.

That your kids will not be sure if you want them to hate your spouse. Please don’t make them hate your spouse.

That you’ll be exhausted all the time trying to be both mom and dad.

And finally for now.

That one day, you will be okay.

I promise.


I don’t know if this website will continue. It’s radically changed from what I had originally planned. We’ll see.

Hang in there and be well.

– C