Writing Divorce starts Monday! Join me for a 4-week workshop where we explore divorce through prompts, readings, writing exercises, and community. For all levels of writers.
I thought about taking the week off because of the holiday, but I had a petulant flash and thought a shout-out to “Independence Day” might be the perfect day to share a short anonymous story and a few powerful Tiny Truths. I’ve also been reflecting on the peace and freedom that many of us, myself included, have experienced after divorce.
A friend told me recently that she’d started dating someone who genuinely enjoyed being alone; he commented that a relationship needed to feel better than being alone in order to be worthwhile. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that—it feels obvious at first glance, doesn’t it? Of course you would want your relationship to feel as good as or better than being alone. But it’s a deceptively simple statement, and I think if we really let it sink in, there is a quiet power in that declaration.
Feeling free, being liberated, so to speak, feels delicious. To be free of walking on eggshells or peacekeeping or cruelty or masking or performing or, or, or. . . it really is a gift. Once you have spent time in that space, living in the freedom of simply being your authentic self, it changes the way you approach future relationships. Not all of us chose divorce. But many of us, regardless of the side we were on, have found that the freedom we have won is worth the price tag.
Tiny Truth: I thought divorce meant failure, but it was a divine deliverance that gave me the freedom to find myself again and take back my power.
It’s Only Stuff
by Kay Davis
You followed me into the bedroom we shared for thirty-five years just as you had followed me into every other room since I arrived. You acted as if I was a thief with no right to any of our possessions.
It was the first time I had been to our house since we separated, and I wanted only a few items for my apartment in Manhattan. A framed photograph of our three children rafting in Yellowstone, two serving spoons, a Phillips screwdriver and my flip flops. You wanted everything, including the house.
“Tell me. What kind of person asks for a divorce right after her father dies?”
The old maple tree cast a shadow of leaves on our king-sized comforter. They waved goodbye in the breeze.
“What kind of person? Huh? Our son just got engaged!” Your anger was ramping up. “Tell me.”
I swung around, a sliver of space between us. Your face was flushed, fists tight at your sides. I smelled the fresh scent of your deodorant.
“A person who wants to be fucking free from you!” Spit flew. I backed away, turned toward my closet.
I stiffened when I felt your breath hot on my neck.
Neither of us moved. Seconds passed. Your rage was electric, dangerous. You had never laid a hand on me, but my gut said, get out.
The spoons in my tote bag banged against my hip as I fled down the stairs, out the door.
Before I slumped into a seat on the train, I made sure you hadn’t followed.
I don’t know what might have happened. But I know this. Those minutes in the bedroom felt like the precise moment in a documentary that precedes a crime of passion, and I would never be alone in our house with you again.
Tiny Truth: He told me I'd never be strong enough to leave him.
Writing Divorce begins Monday! Write your divorce story in community with a 4-week workshop in July
Join Writing Divorce, an online workshop for writers of all levels at all stages of divorce. During divorce, many women feel silenced, and we carry a burden of all that has gone unexpressed: the things we want to scream from the rooftops, the words we wish we could say to our children, our former partners. The helplessness of not being able to express ourselves freely and openly can keep us stuck in the process of healing and moving forward.
With the wisdom, perspective and honesty of other writers who have navigated divorce, we will explore readings, respond to writing prompts, and express the myriad feelings and experiences related to divorce in a safe, supportive community.
Learn more and register now here.
I love these so much. To have this voice, this perspective as the centered and valid one feels so vindicating. And every single one I find myself just nodding along as I read these, even if my situation isn’t exactly the same circumstance I can still relate to all of it.