Getting through the Acute Stage of Divorce

Getting Through the Acute Stage of Divorce

Divorce is horrible. That’s an understatement. I had no real idea how horrible until I went through it myself.

Okay, maybe not for everyone. Some couples mutually agree it’s for the best and manage to work out the details amicably. Wouldn’t it be great if divorce were reliably that simple, if life coaches spent more time helping people build their dreams than helping them survive another conversation with an ex? Based on what I’ve actually seen, though, most people don’t get the amicable version.

This post is for those who don’t have the amicable version. For people who suddenly find themselves in the middle of a divorce and aren’t entirely sure how they got there.

This is meant to get you through the acute stage specifically, roughly the year or two surrounding your separation date. It’s for people too emotionally overwhelmed to sit down with a three-hundred-page book on how to divorce well, and who can’t stack a coach or psychologist’s fees on top of everything else they’re already paying for.

First thing to understand: divorce is conflict-based by definition. Two people trying to go their separate ways, each with a different idea of how to actually do it. If you agreed on the how, you’d be in the amicable category, and you wouldn’t need this post.

Second thing to understand: it’s not the divorce itself that makes things unbearable. It’s mishandling the conflict, avoiding it, caving to it, or getting some perverse charge out of it that does the real damage, especially to any kids watching. That’s not an oversimplification.

So what does handling conflict properly actually look like? Plenty of professionals have built careers researching exactly that. Here’s what I’ve found actually works:

Agree not to settle things in court. Court is built to escalate conflict, not resolve it. While you’re in it, you’re gathering ammunition against your ex instead of figuring out what you both actually need to move forward. Mediation and the Collaborative Legal approach exist as real alternatives.

Build a communication plan together, in advance, and hold yourself to it. Some basics that work:

  • Only contact your ex by email, text, or phone between 9 am and 5 pm, unless it’s a genuine emergency. Define what counts as an emergency together ahead of time, ideally with help if you can’t agree on it alone.
  • Keep every email short. Five sentences, maximum. Something like: “I bought the kids’ shoes. Would you cover half?”
  • When a reply comes back in a way you don’t like, don’t respond for at least a day, maybe two. This is genuinely hard to do. Eventually you’ll start recognizing the pattern of what happens when you engage in an email war, and that recognition alone becomes enough to stop you from starting the next one.
  • Acknowledge you received the email and let them know when you’ll respond.
  • Don’t defend yourself or argue your case in an email, or even in person, without a neutral third party present. It’s almost impossible to make your case without your ex reading it as an attack, which just gives them the opening and motivation to attack back. Defending yourself tends to read as an invitation for someone to go find the holes in it.
  • Decide what actually matters enough to you that you can’t let it go. Set up a meeting specifically to discuss that one thing. If it starts going sideways, stop talking. Adjourn, take at least a day, and reassess how important the issue really is. If it still matters, meet again, this time with a neutral third party present, ideally a mediator or lawyer.
  • Don’t discuss the details of your communication with your ex with other people.
  • Don’t try to work through serious issues in public unless you’ve both agreed to do that beforehand.
  • Don’t criticize, gossip about, or badmouth your ex. I know this is hard. I still slip. But complaining about my ex to other people keeps me stuck in a negative headspace, and I don’t want the main memories of this stretch of my life to be built entirely out of resentment. I want room left over for joy too.
  • Forgive yourself when conflict pulls you back in anyway. It takes real time and real practice to get better at this.

Processing Verses Ranting

Processing Versus Ranting

In the years leading up to my divorce, I’d get together with friends and, occasionally, sit around discussing how irritating our partners were being that week.

As things got worse between me and my ex-husband, that became basically the only thing I ever talked about. I kept a running mental list of every way I’d been wronged, and I’d go around collecting everyone’s opinion on whether I was being reasonable. I got very good at laying out the full sequence of events leading up to the latest incident, and I took pride in how fair and objective I thought I was being. When I got the support I was fishing for, I felt even more justified in feeling a little sorry for myself.

I thought this was a solid self-care strategy until the day I realized my friends and family, however much they loved and supported me, couldn’t actually stop my ex from doing the things that upset me. Nobody could. A wave of hopelessness hit me that day: the realization that I’d be dealing with this person, difficult as he was, for a very long time; my kids were still young. I’d started to think of my list of grievances almost like a case filed in the court of my own brain, argued and decided with a jury of friends and family, and I was just sitting there, waiting for a sentence that was never actually coming.

That day, I’d projected the whole catalogue forward into my future. I’d be dealing with this person, and these same kinds of incidents, indefinitely, and he was never going to be sentenced in any way that would actually satisfy me.

I knew I couldn’t keep going the way I had been.

So I started paying attention to what actually made things worse, and what made them better.

I noticed that surrounding myself with people right after something upsetting happened, and ranting to them about it, actually made it take longer to move past. Days later, someone would ask how I was doing, and that alone would drag me right back into reliving the whole thing, injustice and all.

I noticed that ranting into an email I sent only to myself took some of the pressure off needing to rant to anyone else.

I noticed that if I actively looked for something positive that had come out of the incident, I moved past it faster too. As an example: I genuinely have to credit my ex for teaching me how to deal with difficult people. That might sound a little cheeky, maybe even facetious, but nobody gets along with everyone, and before my divorce, my strategy for difficult people had always just been avoidance. I can’t avoid my ex. So I had to actually learn how to deal with him without it wrecking me. That skill has changed a lot for me since.

I noticed that time spent building a case for the court of public opinion was time not spent on my own growth or happiness, and entire days could vanish into nothing but anger.

And I noticed that the moment I stopped talking about an incident with friends, it started fading out of my head on its own.

So next time you catch yourself gossiping or complaining about someone, it’s worth asking: who is this actually serving?

Defending the Battlements

Defending the Battlements

Last night I went to a workshop on personal boundaries: identifying them, maintaining them, and communicating them to other people. I went mostly out of curiosity, since I’ve always assumed I had reasonably good boundaries and think of myself as a strong, independent, fairly confident type. Also, it was free, and the accountant in me never turns down free training.

I got a little twinge when the facilitator listed off some signs of unhealthy personal boundaries:

  • Going against your own values to keep other people happy
  • Giving as much as you possibly can, just for the sake of giving
  • Taking as much as you can, just for the sake of taking (yes, see above)
  • Feeling guilty or bad whenever you say no

This landed a little close to home, since I’d just spent the entire day in a back-and-forth email “conversation” with my co-parent. I’ll call him that instead of my ex, mostly to keep my thoughts about him somewhere in the neutral zone. We were in disagreement over something he thought I was obligated to do, and I didn’t.

He sent the first request at 8:30 am and followed it up with four more emails over the course of the day, all variations on the same argument for why this was clearly my responsibility.

Oh, and one more sign of unhealthy boundaries I should mention:

  • Expecting other people to meet your needs automatically

Writing this out, it’s pretty clear that both my ex- sorry, co-parent- and I are catching ourselves again, and I have work to do on our respective boundaries. I actually started mine about a year ago, and he’s been an unwitting training partner ever since.

The core principle behind that year of work: do not defend myself.

This is genuinely hard for a self-proclaimed people-pleaser who mostly just wants everyone to get along and be happy.

Every email he sent yesterday felt like a little prod, practically begging for a defensive, justifying response. I actually had to physically get up and leave my workspace so I wouldn’t accidentally send one.

I also had a friend on standby reminding me not to respond.

I knew I still needed to get it out of my system somehow, so I wrote the response and sent it to myself instead. Surprisingly, this works. There’s something about writing out the full blaming, attacking, justifying email, and actually hitting send, even to a dummy account, that gets it out of your body. One tip: delete the real recipient’s address before you start writing, or you might be tempted to “accidentally” hit send once you’ve admired your own devastatingly well-argued response.

So why don’t I defend myself, even when I know I’m right and being reasonable?

Because I’m being reasonable according to my own boundaries, which are clearly not the same as his.

What I’ve learned is that anyone operating from a different set of boundaries than mine can find the holes in whatever defence I put up. Build a wall, and someone motivated enough will find a way through it. Then you spend the rest of the day patching holes with more defensive material, and by the time you look up, you’ve lost an entire day you could have spent doing literally anything else, instead of defending the battlements.

I still have work to do here. In a way, this whole post is me defending my strategy of not defending myself. Time is helping too, but that’s a topic for another day.

The People Pleaser trap

The People Pleaser Trap

I got to start over- thank you, divorce- and my first real step in starting over was figuring out who I actually was and what I valued. I know by now that if I’m not living according to my own values, I end up unhappy, unmotivated, and generally unsuccessful at whatever I’m trying to do.

I keep seeing this exact lesson play out in conversations with other people too, over and over.

Today it happened again.

I volunteer in a few different capacities, and this particular morning I woke up to an email from one volunteer coordinator telling me I wasn’t needed that week, after I’d already set the time aside. I also had an email waiting from a fellow volunteer, unhappy about how the whole thing was being coordinated.

Perfect, I thought. I could help sort this out.

I carefully wrote an email to the coordinator, thanking her for everything she’d been doing, and gently asking if she could clarify how she decided who volunteered each week, since it wasn’t clear to me, and probably wasn’t clear to others either. Maybe a quick note to everyone would help, I suggested, just to head off any resentment building quietly under the surface.

I must not have been the only one sending emails like that, because what came back was long and defensive. At the very end, she asked if I wanted the job.

Not exactly what I was expecting. I drafted an even more careful reply, apologizing that my note had apparently landed as an attack.

She wrote back with an even longer email and asked again if I wanted the job. She hadn’t wanted this role to begin with. She’d been strong-armed into it. Everyone was complaining. And so on.

I genuinely felt for her. She’d taken on something she didn’t want, and I understood exactly why, because at one point in her email she said it herself: “I’m a people pleaser.”

Oh, I know that one well. If there’s one thing guaranteed to pull you away from your own values, it’s being a people pleaser. You end up living according to someone else’s idea of what you should be doing, instead of your own.

She’d taken the job to please someone, clearly not herself, since she was practically being dragged to her computer to wrangle a schedule nobody was happy with. And instead of thanks for the effort, she was getting nothing but complaints, desperate to hand the whole thing off to literally anyone. If nobody stepped up, she’d probably just keep doing it anyway, since quitting would mean disappointing people.

I hoped, for her sake, that she’d quit regardless of whether a replacement ever turned up. I hoped she’d see it as taking a stand for herself, a real learning moment, rather than as letting people down. It would’ve given her the opening to start fresh, and to fill that space with something she actually wanted to be doing, something she’d have a real shot at being happy and good at.

A first step out of the people-pleasing pattern, and a step toward finally hearing her own actual values underneath it.