My partner, David, and I always envisioned a future with children. From the moment we got engaged, it was a given that we would start a family. Our shared dreams about parenting, discipline, values, and the kind of home we wanted to create fueled our decision to marry. For us, having kids was not merely a milestone; it was the foundation of our relationship.
However, we never reached that milestone. After getting married, acquiring a dog, and buying a house, we found ourselves hesitating to start a family, but we couldn’t pinpoint why. Unresolved issues loomed large between us. I was deemed too critical and resentful, while David exhibited dishonesty and evasiveness, as I perceived it. After five years of marriage and three years of therapy, these issues reemerged consistently, leading us to divorce.
The end of my marriage shattered me. It wasn’t just the acute sense of failure—my greatest shame—but also the trauma of leaving our shared home for an unfamiliar space. It was painful to lose mutual friends who either chose sides or felt awkward around us. What hurt most was that no one believed I should feel broken.
Everyone—from my family to coworkers—told me I was “lucky.” Lucky because David and I had no children, lucky to avoid custody battles or ongoing interactions. Phrases like “clean break” and “simple” were tossed around as if they were confetti at my unintended “Newly Single” celebration. Even the legal system trivialized my marriage; a simple form, a fee, and 13 days later, I received a letter confirming our divorce. It was easier to dissolve our marriage than to change a car title.
When people assume you’re lucky, they seldom check in on your emotional state or offer support. I felt the need to mask my feelings, pretending I was fine during social outings. When asked about my weekends, I spoke of mundane activities like housework or family visits, never revealing that I spent my nights crying on the couch or only ventured out to walk my dog. I concealed the emotional exhaustion that came from pretending to be happy all day at work. I didn’t share that I often found myself in tears before even making it home, or that I spent hours looking at old photos of David, fighting the urge to reach out and plead for reconciliation.
The dissolution of my marriage broke my heart in ways I had never imagined. It obliterated the life I had envisioned and the goals I had been working toward. The future that seemed so clear became muddled and directionless, and the children I had pictured were now just dreams. The suffocating fears of my new reality consumed me. Would I ever find love again? Would I have children if I did? Did I make the right choice in leaving, despite our struggles? The notion that I might never see David again—something others viewed as a silver lining—was particularly painful because I longed for him in my life. Sometimes I even wished we had children so that I would always have a piece of him with me.
Many individuals who have divorced with children might envy my situation, believing I was fortunate to escape the complexities they faced. However, I can assure you, no divorce is without its burdens. Even the seemingly straightforward ones can turn your life upside-down. Ultimately, the only fortunate scenario is one that never occurs at all.
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Summary:
Divorce is often perceived through a lens of luck, especially when children are not involved. However, the emotional fallout can be profound, regardless of the circumstances surrounding the separation. Many who experience a divorce grapple with feelings of loss, regret, and uncertainty about the future. It’s essential to recognize that every breakup, even those labeled as “clean,” can leave a lasting impact on individuals and their lives.