Eight years ago, I found myself reluctantly initiated into what I now call the Divorce Club. I often joke that I wanted to remain married, but my husband, along with his new partner, had different intentions. The response to this jest varies from knowing laughter to awkward smiles, depending on who’s listening.
Since that pivotal moment, I have navigated numerous hurdles. As a stay-at-home parent for over a decade, job offers haven’t exactly been knocking on my door. The financial repercussions were severe. I spent five years fighting for child support, during which I lost my home, my credit rating, and a significant part of my mental well-being. Challenges like foreclosure and bankruptcy sound like they might build character, but in reality, they are incredibly taxing. The emotional struggles were equally daunting. Managing four children while trying to provide a stable environment took its toll, especially with an ex-husband who seemed to enter and exit our lives like a storm, often leaving chaos behind.
Ultimately, we persevered through those dark times. My children are now thriving—two in college and two in high school—growing into wonderful individuals I am immensely proud of. As for me, I have worked tirelessly to create a sense of stability. I often write about divorce and have become a source of support for others seeking reassurance that they, too, will find their way through the pain and embarrassment that often accompany such a significant life change.
However, I owe those seeking advice an apology. I am the one who waves the flags of encouragement, proclaiming that you will not only survive but thrive. I respond to heartfelt pleas with uplifting sentiments, assuring them: “You’ve got this!” or “Yes, it hurts now, but you will rise and be fabulous!” I tout the benefits of parallel parenting, claiming that ignoring my ex-husband has been the key to my peace.
But here’s the truth: I recently encountered my ex, and I didn’t react as someone who has fully moved on would. Instead, I behaved like a petulant child.
Let Me Set the Scene
Three nights a week, I work late at my children’s elementary school, where we also host various Park and Recreation programs. On one of those evenings, while handling my usual office tasks, I noticed a figure waiting outside the door. Rushing over to let them in, I was stunned to find it was my ex, accompanied by his young child from his current marriage.
The moment felt surreal, as if time had slowed. Instead of a composed greeting, I froze, caught off-guard by nostalgia and unprocessed emotions. Seeing him interact affectionately with a child who resembled our own sons was unsettling, to say the least. I didn’t know what to say. I could have greeted him casually, or even made a snarky comment, but instead, I simply made a face.
It was an involuntary reaction, one that I can only describe as a grimace. I could see confusion wash over him as he glanced between me and his child, perhaps ensuring my unexpected expression hadn’t upset the little one. After he left, I felt a wave of trembling anxiety and nausea wash over me, accompanied by a sense of shame. I wished I had been more mature and gracious, instead of allowing my feelings to surface in such an unflattering manner.
On the drive home, I found myself reflecting on my emotions, expressing anger toward my ex for the past and the hurt he caused our children. Once home, with my sons out with friends, I allowed myself to feel the weight of my shame and loneliness. I reached out to a close friend, who offered comfort and understanding, and after making a martini, I took a moment to cry on my porch.
Reevaluating My Journey
This experience led me to reevaluate my journey. First, I realized that perhaps the concept of parallel parenting isn’t as foolproof as I once believed. If I had more frequent interactions with my ex, maybe the shock wouldn’t hit me as hard. However, with our children growing up, opportunities for face-to-face encounters are limited, and I’m not keen on initiating conversations just for the sake of practice.
Secondly, I need to acknowledge that I’m not as resilient as I often portray. There are days when the path to healing feels incredibly steep, and it’s essential to be forgiving—to ourselves and others. As I often tell those starting their journey: It’s OK to falter.
In summary, this incident has reminded me that healing is not always linear. We all experience setbacks, and it’s crucial to embrace those moments as part of our growth.
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