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Nobody gets married planning to get divorced, and yet about half of all marriages end that way. This year I've learned even queer marriages aren't special or immune from this fate. Much to my great surprise, love doesn't always "win."
I spent over 19 years with my now ex-partner, believing that what we had was forever. However, this year, a few months before turning 40, I learned the life we had was no longer what my partner wanted. They had a new life and wanted a divorce.
In the aftermath, I was left figuring out who I was without them and how to rebuild my life as a newly middle-aged queer person.
This month, the therapist I started seeing during the divorce "graduated" me out of therapy. It has been nearly six months since my ex-partner walked out. Her assessment is that I am thriving, solid, and confident with a plan for moving forward. She expressed amazement at my growth, noting that most people don't bounce back quickly from the shock of their families falling apart.
I credit my experience as a homeless teenager with helping me bounce back so quickly. When you lose your home, world, and family as a kid, on some level, you'll always be prepared to lose it again.
I spent years knowing my worst fear was my partner leaving. In our relationship, I did everything I could imagine to please my ex and prevent being abandoned. However, once they left and I realized the worst thing had happened, I was terrified, but I also felt a profound freedom.
Starting over and rebuilding is a thing that I know how to do. I've done it before and knew I could and would do it again.
Once I wrapped my mind around the immediate crisis of being abandoned, I realized the first thing I had to do was figure out who I was, and who I wanted to be now.
In my case, spending practically all of my adult life (age 20-39) with a partner made it hard to know who I am as an individual. Divorce changes you. I will never be the person I was before that day in January when I came home and learned my marriage was over. To cope, initially, I immersed myself in my work, which, as a writer/small business owner, is never-ending.
I got rid of all the clothes my ex-partner had wanted me to wear. I dyed and then more recently cut off my hair. My life was mine to architect, and I wanted to look as different on the outside as I felt on the inside. I committed to my creative projects. I reconnected with friends and creative collaborators around the world. I started going out to social and community events. I reinvested my time and presence in the subcultures and interests that were mine before I met my now ex-partner.
Essentially, I started investing in getting to know myself again. As part of this journey, I've found that being in a community, being surrounded by people who have the same passions as I do, makes me feel less alone and more excited about the future than I've felt in years.
I'll never forget the night after my ex-partner left when I got a call from one of my now closest friends. "Let me be part of your inner circle?" he asked.
In that moment all the lessons I learned as a homeless youth flashed through my brain. I could white-knuckle myself through this alone, trusting nobody, or I could remember that not everyone was trying to hurt me and create a new family built on trust, love, and shared experiences. Queer chosen family has always been important to my sense of self, but that has been especially true this year.
As I have navigated my divorce I have loved deeply, and I have let people love me. I have let people emotionally show up for me and trusted them not to hurt me. Contrary to my deepest fears, I wasn't isolated, and there were people ready and excited to build a new family with me. These are friends who were there on my worst days. People who got in their car in an ice storm to get to me the day my ex-partner left stayed up all night on the phone with me, listening as I tried to make sense of what happened.
I never wanted my relationship to end in divorce, and I never imagined it would. However, now that it has, I've learned that isn't the end of the world.
Being alone is scary, but much to my surprise, even though I'm starting over at 40, I feel much less alone than ever before. I'm surrounding myself with people who love me for who I am. I'm also learning that I like the new life I'm building — maybe even better than the one I lost.
