I have feared it for years. And it was truly the second worst thing I’ve experienced. But there was also a relief. And there was love. This is a story about an ending marriage. My story about my ending marriage. It’s not the complete story. And not only mine to tell.
When people ask me how it’s going, I tend to reply that it’s an awkward time, even several months after the formal beginning of the ending of my marriage. For some of you who might know me/us, this is also the moment you first learn about what has happened. I have turned off comments because although I use my life experiences to talk grounded about mental health, I don’t want this to be a space for people to reflect on my (and my ex-partner’s) personal life.
Getting separated is weird. It’s a bureaucratic process where you send an application to the county authorities. Papers can be signed digitally, of course. Very efficient. And in the eyes of the state, you have a year to split up your life logistics. And then you have to apply again for a divorce. You still have to go through this process even when there are no children. No gods were involved when we entered our formal union, but it’s still a sacred institution. Deeply embedded in the social system. We surround marriage with stories about how things should be and how things go when it doesn’t work out.
The story of divorce I knew the best was a story of conflict and betrayal. It was hurt feelings and broken communication. Often there was fault given. There were “sides” to be taken and deliberations to be had. Sometimes there were lawyers too. You have seen this story rehearsed on TV many times. Or maybe you have been in it as the innocent part of parents getting divorced. Or perhaps you have experienced this story as one of the main actors. In most stories, it’s a crisis. For men, it’s often a crisis of being left. For women, it’s often a crisis of getting out. At least for cis-hetero marriages that finally end. Your mileage may vary.
Our story as a couple lasted for 17 years. Ten of those I spent severely depressed after losing my late best friend and burning out in academia. I slowly faded out most of my friendships and family relations and had little to nothing outside work and home life. My ex-partner was left to carry us both and do the tricky balancing act of supporting me and setting boundaries for herself. It took too long before I accepted that I needed professional help. And even longer before I got in a better place. I wasn’t able to be a partner when it mattered. She is one of the strongest people I know, and even for her, it had gone too far for too long. And our partnership suffered for it.
Before I signed our application to be separated, and for almost 24 hours after, I feared becoming part of one of those divorce stories I knew. I’m pretty sure my ex-partner thought it too. We both knew it was what we needed to do. But we were afraid of who the other would turn out to be on the other side. She was and probably still is, worried that I’d become bitter and unreasonable. This worry is understandable because she has experienced me at my worst and most selfish. It also fits the description of ex-husbands. And I was afraid that she would just be done with me. And truly be gone from my life. Which fits the description of ex-wifes. And I didn’t want that. It was a devastating thought.
And this is why you go to therapy. I was prepared when it was time to sign. I knew I would react emotionally and that I shouldn’t fight it. I made sure I was alone. I allowed myself to feel my emotions. I cried, like, ugly cried. It came in waves. I didn’t hold anything back. I felt regret, frustration, and a sense of unfairness, but after those waves, there was mostly sorrow. And then clarity.
It was the thought of (yet again) losing my best friend that cut the deepest. It was the thought of upheaving a life I had just started to get back and losing the emerging sense of belonging to where we had recently moved. And it was missing our shared friends and the things that I appreciated in our marriage. Because divorce is death to the relationship, right? At least, that is what most stories tell us.
And then I realized that I was still in the writers’ room of my own life. I had influence over these things. The divorce needed to happen, but it didn’t need to imply full annihilation. I could not only choose the role I wanted to play, but I could influence the script as well.
I realized it was still important for me that she could be happy and that I was in a position not to make this suck more than it already did. I realized that I didn’t have to move out of the area I had started getting connections to but could continue my journey there. So I told her my intentions: Let’s make the best out of it and hope we still can be friends given due time and process. It surprised her. (Can’t blame her, I had it in me to be 100% self-focused and unreasonable.) It surprised me as well.
Getting separated with the best intentions still entails though conversations, irritation, complicated feelings, exhaustion, insecurity, sorrow, and stress. But I’ve found that being clear about my values and principles makes it easier to take that step back and think about what’s important. It makes it less hard to apologize and don’t be thrown off and become defensive when you’re confronted with your past. And it makes it easier to accept the situation and be open to what’s next.
My story is not unique. Now that I know what to look for, I often see the same dynamic: A partner with untreated depression or stuck in trauma responses they haven’t been able to suss out, and their partners compensate for it. Often partners are expected to do so too by family and friends. And then it comes a point when they can’t anymore. But they might still have a hard time leaving because they know that someone they care for might not handle it well. Because love and the bitterness that grows from constantly fighting an uphill battle can exist at the same time. There are family and material ties that might make it hard to leave. It’s complicated.
I think we all deserve better stories1 about break-ups and the ending of romantic relationships. And I think we need to better understand why people stay in trying relationships and try to make it work, despite the emerging conversation about not compromising on boundaries and “just leave.”
For us, the Norwegian radio show Havarikommisjonen (“The Accident Investigation Board”) where couple’s therapists analyze breakups, was very helpful in understanding our own relationship. A lot of the breakups in the show also end up in meaningful friendships. I wish I could share an English-speaking version of it.