The Divorce Broke Me but My New Love Helped Me Rebuild

Sometimes the end is actually the beginning

Divorce did not end my life, although I felt like I was dying in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. My marriage was done. I felt trapped and miserable. My girlfriends — from India, The Philippines, and Japan — surrounded me with advice and love. I survived on their coattails, such supportive women.

I’ve heard it said that crisis is an opportunity, not a disaster. Endings are beginnings. My marriage ended, and I began again. I left Cambodia in March of 2001, and I found myself back in the world. I was glowing with pain, like a Japanese Kintsugi bowl. Then I met someone.

Jay and I found love after our spouses dumped us.

His wife didn’t love him anymore, Jay said. She was tired of her two decades with him, and wanted out. He didn’t hesitate to leave. If he was no longer loved, he wouldn’t stay. It was my good fortune. He’s a good fit for me.

My own marriage was over at the exact same time as Jay’s, which I find miraculous. I was back in the USA, after my husband admitted to cheating on me for several months. It may have been two years. In any case, I was thoroughly shaken. Having miscarriages, going through gun battles in the city of Phnom Penh — we lived there and published magazines — and feeling utterly devastated and lonely, I wanted out of that country, out of that relationship.

I had to leave. I’m convinced I wouldn’t be alive if I’d stayed in Cambodia, where my first husband and I had a publishing business. When I left, we were making a lot of money, but I couldn’t be bought. Not then, not now. I’ve always had an entrepreneurial streak. As such, I can earn money. Side gigs, front gigs, whatever. I land on my feet. I’ve never stayed in a relationship for the ease of it. Love first and foremost.

After a month back in the States, I got on a dating site online, a new phenomena in the computer age. And that’s where I found Jay. We met on “Match,” and against all odds, fell in love. He is a Capricorn, and I’m a Virgo — both earth signs. We’re very ‘grounded’ people, if you believe in astrology. If you don’t, we are still down-to-earth.

When we met, he was 46, tall and fit with a nice smile and an easy laugh. Quite a traditional guy, but open-minded enough to listen to my stories and not go running for the hills. I was 41, biking twenty to thirty miles a day, and working awfully hard to shake the grief of my failed marriage. I was practically gutted when I left Cambodia.

Unbeknownst to me, I was suffering situational depression, and could have benefited from some anti depressants. I didn’t even consider it. Those medications were for people much worse off than me!

I had imposter syndrome about how bad things had been. My life couldn’t have been much worse. I’d lost two babies. The first was an ectopic pregnancy in 1997. I nearly died, and the battle in the streets of Phnom Penh just a week later rendered me unable to run or hide. Fortunately, the apartment walls were cement, and we survived.

As a US Embassy Warden, I was calling Americans who were on my list, checking on their welfare. We all knew each other. We heard guns everywhere. Tanks rolled, and we heard and felt loud explosions.

My first husband went a bit crazy after that. I watched it happen. He stayed up all night, refused to talk, came and went days without smiling. I felt very alone. His motorcycle would start up. I heard the roar of the engine. Then, he was off fast, down the streets of Phnom Penh.

When we ushered in the new millennium 2000, our marriage was done. That year, things got really bad. I lost another baby, and went through the misery of an emergency life-saving surgery.

My husband couldn’t be bothered to fly to Bangkok with me. In Phnom Penh, where we lived and worked our publishing company, I knew my pregnancy was not good. At the clinic, the ultrasound tech couldn’t find a baby in my uterus. She said, “Go to Bangkok, their equipment is better.” I strongly suspected I was having another ectopic pregnancy, and told my first husband.

He stared at me, cold and angry, and said, “You go. I’ll stay here and run the company. I don’t think the baby’s mine anyway.”

This, of course, was not possible. I never cheated, ever. He could be such an ass.

The reality was that he wanted to stay back and screw around with his girlfriend, a 22-year-old Vietnamese girlfriend. He was paying for her apartment and running around behind my back. Always bitching that my yearly travels back to see Mom and Dad were breaking the company.

Not true. It’s just hard to pay double bills, especially on the sly.

So, in early 2001, I left my life, my company, and my heart behind in Cambodia. My first husband was a Michigan boy, raised in the suburbs with nice parents, but an inveterate wild streak made him want to do the edgiest things. He completely lost the plot in Cambodia. I drew the line at having another woman in the relationship with ‘us,’ which he suggested after I caught him cheating. And anyway, he’d become as icy as the North Pole.

And isn’t polyamory supposed to be consensual? He was flat out cheating. So, I left. Of course I did.

Meeting Jay was good for me

We fell in love fast. We did everything together. I remember telling him, as we sat sipping Starbuck’s coffee, “I just want to find someone to get domestic with.” He smiled. He liked that.

He and I got rid of our other Match.com people and focused on each other. Our bodies fit together perfectly. He was warm and strong, and I was his soft counterpart. Then, 9/11 happened, and we went through it together. It was such a traumatic event, one of those touchstone moments that was part of our first year.

Several months went by, and we only got along better. This was going to be a lasting relationship. I knew it. Yet, I thought my first marriage would last too. I was wary. So was Jay. Who could blame us?

My dad asked us to housesit for him while he went to Mexico for the winter. He wanted someone to take care of the cattle, keep an eye on the farm, and take care of his dachshund Schatzi.

“If you two are going to get a place together, you can take three months here first,” Dad said, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll have a better idea of what you’re getting into.” Dad was smart like that.

Jay and I were spending all our time together, and we knew we wanted a bigger apartment than where Jay lived. So, I helped him move out of his place and we stayed at the farm during the winter of 2001.

I was working for Nordstrom, a department store that sold high-end clothes, make-up, and gifts. For December, I ran a gift shop with beautiful luxury ornaments. Every day, I came home with a new one, so we decided to put up a tree! Our first tree together was laden with colorful glass-blown ornaments, many we still have.

We sat in the living room with the lights off, admiring the colorful lights. Dad’s little brown dachshund sat with us, and we kissed and held hands. We talked about our future and planned things out.

At the time, we had little in terms of resources. Jay had support payments, and I was starting a new life in the USA. I decided I would go back to graduate school and become a high school teacher, like Jay. In time, we worked together — nearly ten years together at the same high school.

In the early days, we were both in our 40s, and we had decades of life to live! We would rebuild. It’s hard to remember back to those times now, our early days. The pain of our divorces was fresh, but we worked through it.

In time, we bought houses, but ended up on a farm. We have hens who free-range, and ducks who fly in for the winter. I got to know his kids, and now they’re my people. We’ve supported our families through marriages and births. We buried our dear parents — all of them. Through all this, we’ve been together.

Through all the hard pitches life’s thrown, we’ve stayed together.

I’m so grateful.

Thank you for reading!