The Unraveling

The Unraveling

I recently learned that divorce doesn’t automatically sever everything between you and your ex. I mean, that sounds obvious, right? But not really. I knew this going into the divorce, but I didn’t realize the emotional journey I was signing up for. My initial thought was that I was about to start discovering myself. I read Single on Purpose—really great read if you want to try it. That’s how I began to understand that I needed to redefine everything. After all, I had been with my ex-husband for 18 years, and what I learned during that time no longer serves me.

I thought this divorce gave me the opportunity to reinvent myself—explore my heart’s desires, reach unknown depths of my soul. And also… learn how to twerk, paint, figure out new ways of having sex, and remember how to use social media without the fear of a man liking a picture or commenting on something I posted. I even switched to an Android. I refuse to talk about that—but just know it will never happen again.

I started redefining my relationship with God. I was rebuilding a strong spiritual foundation, learning how to rely on God during some of my darkest moments—when I questioned my decisions, or when I needed help being grateful for the good ones. I learned how to have crazy faith. (Remember when I told you things were tight financially? He is an on-time God.)

Even with all of that, I realized I was steadily piling on things that made me feel good… but I never really mourned my relationship.

Believe it or not, I had to give myself permission to admit that I missed my husband. Notice I didn’t say “ex-husband,” that ship has sailed, sunk, resurrected and burned. I just missed the idea of the life we had—and the life we actually had. Things were easier with two incomes. I didn’t have to worry about who would watch the kids if I had a doctor’s appointment or something important that interfered with school pickup (I mean…for the most part – there was never any real cooperation with that sort of thing). I missed sleeping next to a warm body (before the night sweats), laying my head on his chest. I missed saying “I love you” and meaning it with every nerve ending—from the arch between my heels and toes all the way to the tips of my fingerprints.

I had to admit that I missed loving him, more than anything. Isn’t that wild—missing loving someone? Love is an action word, and I did that action every day, even on days when I didn’t want to. I lived for it. It’s what made us last as long as we did—I loved him more than he could ever love me. I doubt that I’ll ever love anyone the same… I’m waiting for that to be proven wrong.

The point is, I had to let myself feel that loss. The loss of love. The loss of the action of love. And that came with the unraveling. Not a downward spiral, but an untangling of responsibilities. An unraveling of what I did as a wife, and what I do now as just the mom.

I had to level my expectations. I thought that because I’d known this man since I was 18, he wouldn’t be spiteful—especially since our divorce was amicable. But I didn’t anticipate how his hurt would fester. I should’ve known, honestly, because he never resolved anything emotional. I don’t know why I was surprised.

I had to start unraveling because I  was still trying to be the wife—telling him what needed to be done with the kids and when. I assumed he would naturally share responsibility with the kids. He always said he loved the kids more than anything. I never would have guessed he’d be cruel to them just to rage-bait me. And the sad thing is, I was repetitively taking the bait.

Here’s the thing, my kids’ emotional stability is everything to me, and anything that threatens that MUST be removed. I go full-blown momma-bear mode when I feel like there is a threat to my kids – but seriously what mom doesn’t do that? Don’t get me wrong—there are momma bear moments I regret. Like driving over to his house and knocking on the door when he wasn’t responding to my calls or texts… after I asked a time sensitive or very important question. I wasn’t expecting him to apply the lowest level of urgency on the needs of our children. I remember with a cringe, driving over there with the kids in the car to tell him about himself when I learned he pushed our oldest daughter into a wall. I regret leading with my emotions, because that’s what he feeds on the most.

So in reflection, I’ve realized that mourning is not linear. And even though it’s been two years, I’m still learning a lot about myself and finally unraveling the last few pieces of “us” and forming just “me.”

Since giving myself permission to continue mourning the loss of my marriage, a weight lifted—literally. I had a session with myself where I cried my eyes out. I did a full-on ugly cry in the corner of my closet. I don’t let snot drip down my face, but my nose definitely got stuffy, and I’m pretty sure there are tears dried into the pages of my journal. But it was therapeutic.

We get scared of those big feelings because we think they’ll last forever. They don’t. I cried for a good 30 minutes, went to sleep, then woke up and cried some more. And then my mother-in-love (I can’t really call her mother-in-law anymore) told me to come out and let the family love on me.

What surprised me more than his post divorce behavior was the people who have gathered around me since our separation. For example, I’ve known his family as long as I’ve known him, they grew to love me in every stage from 18 to 39 and I still love them, too. My kids adore their cousins—all 17 of them (My father and Mother in love have 20 grandchildren including our kids).

That weightless feeling, the new found understanding of the unraveling and mourning as well as recently turning 39 helped me realize that I am finally ready to present myself to the world again. It’s funny how that works. Releasing our emotions actually gives us power and clarity. Holding them in is like being indefinitely constipated – our emotions get blocked and can become internally toxic. I know now that I can experience peace outside my home. I can meet new people. I can date myself and reintroduce the revised version of me to the world. I’m learning that I don’t have to live to please others. I’m learning that I have a responsibility to take care of myself in all ways—not just the Netflix binging version of self-care, but the boundary-setting, peace-protecting version, too.

I feel confident in saying everything I experienced in 2025 was necessary. I needed to feel the pain to appreciate the relief. Just like the sunrise isn’t beautiful unless it’s emerging from the depth of night—both are required in life.

Even the ugliest moments can become the birthplace of something not just good… but great.