By: Sarah Thompson
Updated: July 8, 2021
Originally Published: June 8, 2017
After years of turmoil, my husband and I have reached a point where we can somewhat accept that our marriage is coming to an end. This journey has been lengthy, filled with denial, heartache, and a deep sense of loss. We navigated through these feelings privately for a long time, and now, as we live apart and approach divorce, we are gradually adapting to our new reality.
From an outsider’s perspective, many people might perceive us as a couple who looks content and will be just fine. However, that perception stems from our mutual decision to keep our struggles private during this difficult time. While we leaned on close friends for support, our neighbors, parents, and even our kids sensed something was amiss without fully understanding the situation.
Despite our attempts to suppress our emotions, it was an exhausting facade. Pretending to be happy when you feel like you’re barely staying afloat is an immense burden. Since we started discussing our separation more openly, I’ve often been asked by women—both familiar and unfamiliar—what it feels like. Perhaps they seek reassurance or guidance, hoping to find solace in knowing they are not alone in their struggles.
I frequently think about how those reaching out to me are looking for validation, just as I once did. They want to know if they can rewrite their story and emerge stronger on the other side. However, I can’t provide a universal answer, as relationships are not one-size-fits-all. They can bend and break, sometimes becoming more beautiful over time, and other times morphing into something unrecognizable.
When I hear someone say, “I’m considering doing the same thing; we’re in a similar place. Are you okay?” I respond with a mix of yes and no. Our apparent happiness is a result of having processed much of our pain before sharing it with anyone else. We chose to wait until we made a final decision before speaking about it, but this transition signifies the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. The emotional waves are unpredictable; some days bring clarity, while others feel like I’m wrestling with my own heartache.
Honestly, I’m living a reality I never anticipated, and at times it feels like every ounce of my strength is devoted to climbing out of despair. It’s ironic how your marriage can feel both liberating and devastating at the same time. One moment, you might feel a sense of freedom, and in the next, you’re grappling with fresh heartbreak.
What you see in us is the unraveling of a relationship that has lost its way. We aim to support each other as we navigate this process, and thankfully, we’re succeeding. Our bond remains strong because we created three wonderful children together. We promised to manage this transition with as much grace as possible, and while some days are easier than others, we are committed to standing tall.
At times, it feels as though I am leading a double life. There are moments when I question our decision, only to be reminded of my strength when I catch my reflection and feel a wave of confidence. Each challenge that arises seems more manageable because I know I am doing what’s best for myself and my kids, as well as for my ex-husband.
I’ve shed tears over significant milestones, like the day I removed my engagement ring and wedding band. I had held onto them longer than I intended, but when my husband moved out, the pain beneath the rings became unbearable. I lifted them to find my skin peeling away, and with that, I knew I wouldn’t wear them again. Sitting there, I cried, feeling the weight of loss, yet somehow, I also felt a sense of relief.
Letting go of a relationship that no longer serves you can feel both liberating and sorrowful. It’s possible to miss someone while simultaneously knowing that returning to that relationship isn’t what you want. This contradiction can be confusing, but it’s real and raw.
Some days, I drift through life in a daze, while others inspire a burning desire to take on the world. Yet, there are also days when the sun feels too bright, and all I want is to hide under a cozy blanket. The fatigue is overwhelming, a depth of exhaustion I never knew existed.
This journey can bring about feelings of shame and failure, making everything seem unnatural. It feels as though layers of my identity are being stripped away. I’m exposed but ready to move forward, albeit terrified. Then, I remind myself that I’m the one controlling this process, and I resolve to take it one day at a time.
Divorce can be a brutal experience, filled with a mix of emotions. I strive to be the best mother, but I also catch myself feeling guilty for not being able to stay married to their father. I recognize I can’t carry that burden, nor would I want him to.
One of the most important lessons I’ve learned is that when you are on the verge of making a life-altering decision, you will inevitably move towards it, even when fear grips you. Whether you choose to stay in your marriage or separate, that decision reflects your true desires. You may oscillate between both choices, but ultimately, you are shedding an old version of yourself.
Ending a marriage is rarely straightforward; it varies for everyone. However, it signifies a transformation, and before healing begins, you may find yourself feeling even more lost. You’ll grapple with doubts, and it may feel like you’re breaking apart, held together only by sheer determination.
But deep down, you will know your path. You will continue to navigate the pain, peeling back the layers, and moving toward your truth. Not anyone else’s, just yours. You’ve got this.
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Summary
Navigating the end of a marriage is a complex emotional journey, marked by denial, heartache, and moments of clarity. While the process can feel isolating, many seek validation in knowing they are not alone. Emotions fluctuate between freedom and sorrow, and the experience is uniquely personal. Ultimately, it involves shedding old identities and moving toward truth, one step at a time.