Bethany's divorce story

A funny thing happens when you get divorced.

• People feel sorry for you.
• They congratulate you.
• They are embarrassed for you.
• They surround your children with support.
• They support you privately, but ignore you publicly or socially so it won’t tarnish their image.
• They pray for you because they understand God’s grace has brought you here.
• They think you’ve committed the greatest sin because the Bible is against divorce.
• They act like you no longer exist.
• They are happy for you.
• They offer their apologies.
• They try to figure out who was at fault.
• They feel bad for your children.
• They give you advice.
• They cheer for you.
• They assume that you are now anti-marriage.
• They ask if you’re dating and assure you that you will soon find your next partner or spouse.
• They assume you want a next partner or spouse.

From my experience, most (and thankfully not all) people expect the worst for you during and after divorce. This is the common narrative I hope disrupt by sharing my story and finding ways to live my best post-divorce life not just for myself, but for my daughters to know that they can create an existence for themselves that goes against what the world tells them it should be. They are uncaged, and so am I, by the decision to divorce.

After decades, I am finally started to feel like myself. I am free to be the woman that I have always been, but was too afraid to acknowledge within the confines of who the world told me I should be—both independently and in my marriage. I was too afraid to live outside of what other people expected of me and too afraid to shatter the perfectly-crafted image of my suburban life—a lawyer husband, successful career, daughters in private school, member-only organizations, Christmas newsletters, etc. I was too afraid until I was a shell of myself. I was too afraid until I wasn't.

I filed for divorce on August 16, 2021. As I approached the courthouse, my heart was pounding, my mind was racing, my hands were sweaty, yet I felt strong. Compelled to do this. Sure that it was the right decision. Certain that I given all that I had during almost 22 years of marriage. It was time to choose me.

This was not failure. This was rising. Rising to who I was created to be and to what I was capable of.

I wanted my daughters (11 and 17 at the time) to know the happiest and truest version of me, and that person had not been able to show up in the final years of my marriage. Beyond knowing that it’s possible to do hard things, I also wanted my daughters to have a tangible example of what it looked like to do hard things. Most importantly, I wanted to teach them to always choose themselves. 

I’ve learned so much since that day at the courthouse. I keep learning, and now I share what I’ve learned with others. Whether someone is navigating the end of an intimate partnership or supporting someone who is, I want my story to be used for others’ awareness and well-being.

What I do know now, and in spite of the range of the responses I’ve received when I share that I am recently divorced, is that I am not a failure. There is no reason for me to feel shame, or for anyone else. And that’s what I am on a mission to change. The world’s desire to frame divorce or the end of an intimate partnership as a failure or something to be ashamed about is simply wrong. It’s unfair. And it is damaging—to those experiencing it and those impacted by it.

Recently, I decided to leave the shadows of divorce behind to launch @SincerelyDivorced with my dear friend Hillary. Our goal is to build an inclusive community of resources and stories of hope for all who are experiencing the end of an intimate partnership, or know someone who is. It is storytelling and encouragement for the purpose of shining a light on the many ways people experience the end of an intimate partnership—in all of its complexities (e.g., faith, religion, identity, culture, etc.). No more hiding from the world and its tendency to creative a narrative of shame around the end of a relationship.

I want to close this post with what Hillary and I hope is an outcome of this project, which is to normalize divorce. When someone tells you they are separated, divorcing or in the process of ending a long-term relationship, don’t immediately offer your condolences and say you are sorry. Instead, respond to them with a warm smile (or hug), tell them that they are strong, remind them of the qualities and traits that make them special, and what you love about them. If you’ve been in their shoes before, perhaps consider sharing your story and that you’ve survived and thrived.

After that, don’t stop checking in and don’t pretend like they didn’t experience divorce or something similar. When you do that, it feels like someone is ignoring something about you because it makes them uncomfortable. Remember to occasionally remind that person that they are strong and that you are proud of them as opposed to ignoring their journey because of the discomfort the world assigns to the end of a marriage or long-term partnership.

We want to be seen and even celebrated, not discarded, and pitied. I am proud of myself and eternally grateful for those of you who see me in this next chapter and cheer for me to succeed.

Bethany