I’d Rather Get Divorced And Regret It, Than Regret Never Getting a Divorce

Don’t let fear of regret keep you stuck in an unhealthy marriage.

 

Should I stay, or should I go? I asked myself that question every day for seven years after my then-husband’s second affair. Some days, I thought I could maintain the facade for my three little boys, our friends, and my parents. Some days, I fantasized about what a new life would be like if I divorced.

I wished for a crystal ball to appear with an ominous finger pointing towards the bedroom, or towards the front door. My ex was unwilling to discuss a dissolution of our marriage. He was no fool; with me, he had a chef (albeit a poor one), a cleaning lady, a personal assistant, personal shopper and a full-time nanny all rolled into one.

I did convince him to go back to counseling, but after many months of exasperating sessions with our fourth couples’ therapist, I decided that I’d rather get divorced and regret it, than regret never getting a divorce. After an uncomfortable conversation with my married, Catholic and disappointed parents, I filed for separation.

I was feeling quite smug that my divorce would be the one to which others aspired.

He would move out and I would live my life as though nothing had changed. #delusional. I would have my boys as much as I pleased (he was the one who cheated after all), and I would graciously include their father in all the milestones of their formative years.

Therefore, no serving of papers would take place and I would inform my often-impermeable husband by myself. #highroad. Tell him I did, and after threatening me with a life of poverty and little access to my children, he slammed my hand in the door as I exited the room.

Closed was the easy road to happy Divorcedland and from the moment I wiggled my crumpled fingers out of the jamb, so began a three-year uphill switchback littered with loathing, legal bills, police involvement and a CPS visit to my home fallaciously called in by my ex-husband himself.

Not only did everything change, it changed in ways that had never crossed my mind.

I had to move. My ex refused to leave the family home. We had to “nest” until I could get him to release funds for me to vacate. He always handled the finances and I had no idea what we had or how to access it. #besmarterthanme. And though he had never participated fully in anything outside of sports with our children, after a short waiting period, he had 50/50 custody.

I had to part ways with old friends. My ex (who does come off as charming. #waituntilyoulivewithhim) gathered a harem of local moms to whom he professed that he was the poor, discarded victim of a ruthless ex-wife. #narcissist.

Stories of my vicious texts (did they bother to ask what he wrote to me first?), and tales of violence and mayhem in my home were told to label me as the unstable party. He jubilantly shared, in front of my boys, that I was thought of as “crazy” and “despised” by our mutual friends.

I used to co-chair charity events, attend lavish birthday celebrations, travel with other families, and have them over for Sunday night dinners. But soon after the news of our divorce spread, it seemed like no one had my new address in Divorcedland and requests for my company declined.

I had to watch my children suffer. I greatly underestimated that the stigma of divorce would reach past me and touch my children so severely. I had to move one time. They had to move two to three times a week. They still do. They were exposed to arguments over missing t-shirts and cleats and much more. They still are. They cringed as they saw their father and his girlfriend on Instagram before he would admit to having one and were slow to accept her. One of them still won’t. They were the victims of our most contentious and unkind divorce. They will always be.

I was officially in the city limits of Divorcedland.

I went sometimes five days without my children, I had lost a chunk of my social life, and I had uprooted my boys from a marriage putting them at risk for lower grades, emotional problems, and difficulty in their future relationships.

I ran like a hamster on a wheel trying to keep the status quo. Nesting, attending the same social events as their father, with the same people, at the same places. It was hard, and I was up to the challenge, but it wasn’t working for any of us. I hit my head against the wall often, and for years, until I realized that I had to drop the fantasy that divorce wouldn’t change my life and live like a divorced mother with three children who needed me no matter my marital status, no matter where we lived, nor whom we saw for Sunday night dinner.

Once I decided to make Divorcedland a temporary living situation I purchased a house, remodeled said house, and made it a home for my children. I now have a rewarding relationship with a man I adore, a patient financial consultant, a healthcare broker, and I am trying to learn how to play tennis. #humbling.

I am stressed. I am dog-tired…almost always. But I wouldn’t change a thing. I am happy and I am dedicated to giving my children a loving home and family life despite our most dramatic and traumatic divorce.

I have a new circle of friends, some from my years as a new mom, and some I have met more recently. They are stronger and more intimate friendships than the ones chosen by my ex. I attend many events alone. #alsohumbling. I take my sons on vacation by myself which is often lonely and hard, and always expensive!

My ex does not want to be asked for any type of assistance with our sons during my custodial time, so I am raising these young men with little support. I discipline them by myself. I deal with curfew issues by myself. I have taught my oldest how to shave and how to drive. I have spoken to my sons about safe sex, and about being respectful to women. I will continue to do so until it “sticks” even though they find it “weird” and “annoying”.

I am stressed. I am dog-tired…almost always. But I wouldn’t change a thing. I am happy and I am dedicated to giving my children a loving home and family life despite our most dramatic and traumatic divorce.

Making the decision to divorce was the most agonizing, insufferable choice I have made thus far.

Thankfully, Divorcedland is just a starting area until you find your new place where being divorced doesn’t define you. I see divorced moms as a mom first, then a teacher, an executive, a florist, or an attorney who just happens to be divorced. In fact, I have ceased to check the “divorced” box on intake forms. I am single and proud of what I have accomplished. I am grateful I had the strength to go. Divorce is not for the faint of heart. But hearts can heal, mine has, and if not already, yours will too.