June 6, 1944 marked world history with the Allied invasion of Normandy. June 6. 2022 marked my history with divorce. For several years my ex and I would sit on our anniversary and together draft a list of rules for staying married that matched the number of years we’d made it work. I still believe that the lists hold true, but only if there are two people in the marriage who want it to work.

With this D-Day marking four years of my next chapter, I’ve reflected on what I’ve learned. It’s been ALOT, y’all. If you’re contemplating divorce with thoughts that it will be easy, you are highly mistaken! Healing from trauma is HARD! Grief is HARD! Finding your footing is HARD! Building “your” life after decades of “our life” is HARD! I’ve gotten things wrong along the way, but I’ve tried to not repeat my mistakes. And since one of the first affirmations I taught Sofija was, “I can do hard things.” – I’ve taken my own advice and reminded myself often of that fact. I can do hard things.

I present to you the four most significant things I’ve learned in four years of being divorced…

1. Heal. I’ve seen plenty of people rush into new relationships immediately after divorce. Some work out. Some don’t. Personally, I’m really glad I took the time to work on myself and healing trauma before I even considered trying to love someone new. There are triggers you don’t even realize are there until they’re tested, and. Besides, it’s unkind (and probably both sadistic and masochistic) to bring all the baggage that ended a marriage into a life you try to build with someone who didn’t pack those bags. And when you do find the courage to love again, love BIG! I firmly believe that anything and anyone worthy of my attention, effort, and affection, is worthy of me being all-in. Being all-in means taking the risk of failing and/or having my heart broken. It’s worth the risk. For the record, it took a couple years of living like a hermit while healing to get there.
2. Empathize. One of my biggest challenges in the beginning was reminding myself that my people were also grieving and traumatized. As the plane was crashing, it took every rational thought and survival instinct just to find my own oxygen mask and put it on. There was little left in me to notice or tend to the pain of my kids, or extended family and because my amygdala had kept me in fight, flight, or freeze for so long – that’s what everyone got from me. I was defensive. I ran away. I shut down. If I had it to do over, I would have insisted on separating when the oxygen first left the room. But I didn’t. And by the time I did, the people I loved most had mountains of their own trauma to deal with. When you reach the point where you can breathe again, it’s time to really pay attention to your people. Speak truth, but measure your words. Listen attentively. Love them deeply. Heal with them. Encourage them. Reassure them. Own your shit and apologize for it. Show empathy.
3. Stop fighting! We spent ten hours in mediation and several years fighting over everything that there was to fight over. By the time the judge signed our final judgment, I had very little fight left in me. But guess what? It took my brain over a year to accept that I was safe and no longer needed to fight. One morning I woke up frustrated over two things he continued to violate in our final judgment and it hit me – this fight is already settled. So I drafted a quick affidavit, notarized it online, and stopped at the courthouse on my way to work. A few weeks later we had a hearing and the judge enforced what we had agreed to. Shortly after that, our daughter called me stating that she had walked out the front door and she was running away. I asked where her dad was and she said he was in the pool. I called our son and put him in the middle of what immediately became a fight. Then I remembered – This fight is already settled. Our son is hurting too. A few months later I got a call from cops who’d found our daughter naked on a highway near her dad’s house at 7am. That time, I remembered quickly. I cannot tell you the peace, healing, and freedom that has come from letting go of the fight. I divorced to STOP fighting. I paid for a mediator and spent months hashing out a marital settlement and co-parenting agreement so that there would be nothing left to fight over. I pay taxes, and I choose peace. Let the courts and bureaucracy handle the fight.
4. Move forward. The biggest fears I’ve ever battled were during the season of rebuilding my life. I found myself at 50 years old trying to figure out who I was outside of being a wife and mom. There were many moments when I was acutely aware that I didn’t recognize a single detail of my life. In the first couple years of rebuilding, there were times where I was in a free fall, and times when I was climbing a mountain. All of it took my breath away with fear and uncertainty of what came next. Fourteen months after D-Day, my little rental house that had been my healing sanctuary, was destroyed by Hurricane Idalia. What little I had been left with was lost. Once again, I was grieving and rebuilding. Eight months ago, the startup I jumped into as our marriage was falling apart, crashed and burned. Once again… starting over. I’ve also loved again, and lost him. I won’t lie. There have been moments when I’ve wondered just how much loss a heart can take. But I keep getting up, putting one foot in front of the other, and finding every little beautiful detail in every day to be thankful for. The only measure of my life is in what I choose to focus on. The sun continues to rise and set. As long as it does, I will too.

Throughout the month of May, I found one truth coming up repeatedly in conversations – Nothing is wasted. Nothing. I don’t think any of us get to live half a century without loss, pain, and starting over (at least) a few times. How boring would that be? How do you truly appreciate what you have, if you’ve never experienced loss? Or savor what feels good, without knowing the taste of pain? How do we celebrate victory without knowing defeat, or relish our wins without experiencing failure? – ALL of it! Every pain, every loss, every pleasure, every victory, every failure, and every win – have created the woman I am today. Nothing wasted.

Happy D-Day! May we always remember, learn from our mistakes, and (as the judge said at the end of our Zoom divorce hearing) “live our best lives.” Over 10,000 young men died on the beaches of France on D-Day. We owe it to them to live well.