The Rollercoaster of Emotions Called Divorce

Get ready to breathe in a paper bag from stress.

Are you ready for divorce? Have you thought about it long and hard, cried over it, then came to peace with it when you told your spouse?

When you’re unsure about divorce, it’s a day-by-day kind of rollercoaster. If a day with the spouse is great, you doubt your decision. If you argue, you’re ready to sign the papers in blood on the spot. It’s that constant change of emotion that makes the decision even more difficult.

I thought once I asked for a separation, there would be a few days of Joseph being upset and then he’d agree. Blame the Covid quarantine because my brain was far gone. (It still is, for the record.)

It was serious llama drama. I didn’t anticipate him begging me to stay with simultaneous vitriol. Imagine someone screaming how they hate you while hugging you close.

I didn’t think I would get emotional. I spent years going back and forth on this decision. My years of crying were over. And yet, feeling triggered prompted my defensiveness and tears. On one hand, the person requesting the divorce must be patient with their spouse’s feelings if it’s out of the blue. On the other hand, it’s human nature to defend yourself.

The number one argument you’ll have to defend: you are making the wrong choice in wanting a divorce and you are ruining our children’s lives.

Since my attempt at saying, “no, really, I just want a divorce. No, like seriously dude, I want a divorce,” didn’t work, I proposed a Parenting Marriage. That’s where the romantic aspect of a marriage is removed and the spouses are like business partners who raise kids in the same house. It’s the least-worst of separation options.

Even that lesser-version of divorce came with an influx of emotions. Topics like dating, telling friends, and not seeing each other naked anymore were acrimonious.

Imagine you hit someone’s dog with your car. Now imagine after confessing your sin, you have to live with the dog owner. That’s what it’s like living with your spouse after you ask for a divorce.

We saw a divorce counselor regularly. Homegirl was not cheap. The more we met, the more we learned about decisions we’ll need to make, and the more we argued. I dreaded those Zoom sessions because I knew when the 90 minutes were over, there would be more arguments.

Our divorce counselor pointed out that the person who wants the divorce is light years ahead emotionally than the spouse who didn’t initiate it. For them, they’re going through all the hurt that you went through for years up to the point of asking. In a perfect world, the initiating spouse lets the other one cycle through those emotions.

For me, that meant backing off on talk about things Joseph perceived as far off in the future. That included dating. I couldn’t even head to the grocery store (my one whole social activity for the week in a world quarantined, mask and all) without him accusing me of trying to pick up guys because I wore makeup.

Listen, I’ve been stuck indoors for almost a year. I’ve watched so many makeup tutorials, I can start a cosmetic empire. Of course, I’m going to masterfully wear my batwing eyeliner for hooded eyes with my cream-colored eyeliner on the waterline to make my eyes pop. That doesn’t mean I’m planning on meeting Mr. Right in the candle aisle at Target.

Things lightened up in the house. Joseph became accustomed to the idea of us not being together. I didn’t bring anything up. We made some logistical changes with our finances but that was it.

The more content he became, the more aggravated I did. It felt too similar to our regular marriage except this time there were two different credit cards. Eventually, I became the one causing problems with my attitude and resentment. It seemed like he was dragging this out and even worse because I initiated it, I didn’t feel like I had a right to voice my anger.

By the start of the year, Joseph was doing okay with the status quo. When I brought up the idea of moving on, he said we could discuss it in three months. Internally, I snapped. He was happy with how things were progressing and yet, I felt trapped all over again like I did with our “regular” marriage.

The problems were still there. Different title. Same issues. Minus that I didn’t care to argue about them. I already voiced my opinions on these things for years, bringing them up now wouldn’t change a single thing. If they could change, I wouldn’t have asked for the separation.

Finally, I decided to rip the bandaid off. Simply deciding for this path forward felt like a ton of bricks fell off my shoulders. It felt right. I felt at peace again.

Well, at peace and nervous. I was at peace with the decision but nervous about confronting Joseph. When I did, he didn’t take it well. At all.

I don’t blame him. He did genuinely try towards the Parenting Marriage. For me, we were moving at too slow of a pace. We could create all the contracts we wanted for things like “who takes the kids to doctors’ appointments” and “who makes breakfast” but that doesn’t change our conflicting personalities.

We held a session with the divorce counselor and that left emotions even more raw than before. When you decide you want a divorce, you don’t anticipate how much you’ll defend the decision. You don’t get handed the paperwork. You have to earn the right to divorce by tackling every question and accusation thrown your way.

One slip up, then you’re seen as frivolous and that the decision was taken too lightly. You better hope you’ve got the defense skills of a Harvard graduate.

In a shocking twist of events, Joseph asked to speak to me. He sat next to me on my bed while I was writing a passionate email defending my need to completely sever the marriage.

“I’m not going to try convincing you anymore,” he gingerly says. “Just tell me what you’re okay with that will cause the least amount of pain to everyone involved. Nesting, whatever. What will be best for the kids, you, and me? I don’t care about who knows anything. I don’t care about any of those things anymore.”

It was the first time he acknowledged my needs instead of only the kids’ welfare. I didn’t have the selfish card thrown in my face for being unhappy.

For the first time in months, we talked like calm, civilized adults. I told him how we don’t have to make any major changes until the kids end school in June. I didn’t want to make their lives worse while they’re already suffering academically from virtual school. Over the summer we would give nesting a try.

Nesting allows the kids to stay in one house while the parents rotate out. It’s a lot easier for adults to shuffle around and it provides some normalcy for the kids. Their world isn’t blown apart other than only seeing one parent at a time.

Joseph wants to put our savings into purchasing a condo instead of renting. I told him I was wary of doing that because if things go south, then we’re stuck with two properties to sell. But I’m open to the idea after we try nesting with a rental.

This plan lets us ride out our work from home situations with the unknown return to offices. If he returns to a long commute, then that affects our schedule and arrangement. Joseph won’t know until the end of the year.

We have plenty to work with until then. I also said that I wanted to divide up assets now even though we’re sticking with a separation. After talking to my lawyer, there’s no benefit to divorcing right now when we’re under the same roof because of Covid. But I want to get the tedious parts out of the way while we’re still cordial. That way, when we eventually pull the trigger, the rough conversations are out of the way.

Finally. I feel like the shackles are off my ankles.

I went for a walk with one of my pandemic-bubble friends, like we do every week. Now that Joseph has cleared the roadblocks, I’m ready to tell close friends our situation.

“Dude,” I nervously said. “I’ve got some major news. Joseph and I split up.”

It finally feels real.