I no longer live in Massachusetts–which, in short, is an introduction to the fact that I am now a 37-year-old woman finalizing my divorce.
This means very different things for two cis het people going through it. I think that, to some extent, society has painted a more sympathetic picture of men in their post-divorce world. For example, the first thing that comes to mind for me is the endless number of calls into the Savage Lovecast from [straight] men, all with the same complaint – it’s wildly difficult to “get out there” and date, whether you are newly separated from a female partner or trying out an open relationship.
This is how divorce and/or separation looks different for women. The common belief is that we always have the upper hand, regardless of how or why we may be looking for a partner. The notion is that, if we so choose to seek a “replacement” to take care of needs that trickled away after a split, we can do it at a moment’s notice. For some reason, society glosses over the very real pressure on women to appear unrealistically beautiful as they age, sustain their careers and families after traumatic events, and financially stay afloat.
If there is one thing I’ve learned so far in this process, it’s that neither person in a divorce has an advantage. (I’m not talking legally here, because a lot of what I’ve recently observed is that the judicial system seems to prioritize its own definition of “fairness” over the divorcees’ actual desires.) As a trauma victim, I probably could’ve predicted this, but the same lesson I learned through surviving my life to date applies in this situation: no person’s pain is worse than the other’s. This is to say that, while the stereotypical difficulties that arise after the de-coupling may have grains of truth to them, society seems to try to fast-forward past the experience itself.
The moment when you can each acknowledge that what once worked is no longer working.
All of the time you have to spend afterward, reassuring yourself that you — both of you — will be okay, even while you are in pieces.
The heartbreak that comes with watching your friends and family falter after learning of your decision.
The mourning of the life — all of the people, local streets, songbirds, small restaurants — you once knew and will never experience the same way again.
I know I have a lot to be grateful for up to this point, especially in comparison to others who have gone through divorce. At the top of my list is being surrounded by friends right now who love me [and understand all of the above]. A close second, however, is being in Colorado where I can see mountains from wherever I’m standing.
I could spend all day identifying the ones topped with snow, daydreaming about who might be humming along in the mist. Maybe once in a while, they daydream about people like me–humming along, shaking off remnants of the East Coast.
