After my divorce at 40, I struggled to do everything alone. The loneliness of everyday life was shocking.
My partner suddenly left me and asked for a divorce.
I struggled to handle everyday activities alone — like grocery shopping and finances.
I am working on my independence and now lean on my friends for support.
I was blindsided when my ex asked for a divorce in our 40s. They wanted to start a new life, and I was left confused. But even as I was working through the shock, I had to get on with life — alone.
I've been so lucky to be surrounded by friends and chosen family who rallied for me as I navigated the divorce process.
However, there have been many moments of challenging solitude. Life is full of strange little annoyances — like flat bike tires and broken appliances. It's also filled with simple joys like finding a new potato chip flavor or your dog doing something adorable. These are the things people tend to share with spouses, but when you get divorced, that is no longer an option.
Although I'm learning to share these little moments — both good and bad — with my closest friends, the hardest post-divorce moment is doing so many things alone.
I'm alone on my most painful days
The week after my ex-partner left, I got into a bike crash. There was an icy patch on the road, and I took too tight a turn, sending me to the pavement. I wasn't seriously hurt, but the black and purple bruises that covered my legs were a reminder of how vulnerable I was. If I got sick or injured, I was alone.
At that moment, bruised and scraped right after the separation, there was only one person I wanted to call, and the version of that person who I loved and who cared for me didn't exist anymore. I felt scared and small.
The financial burden is all on me now
I often feel the stress of knowing that everything is now up to me. The financial stress is especially pronounced for me because I'm a small-business owner and writer. I'm having to purchase my own health insurance. I hope my freelance clients pay me on time and that I'm able to keep my business afloat.
I live every day with the stress of knowing that my ability to write and create is the only thing paying my bills. Connecting with readers around the world is all I've ever wanted to do, and it's my dream job. I refuse to let my divorce take this from me.
The financial support I once had is now gone, and I don't have a backup plan.
I've always had many plans for the future: the art I want to make and the life I want to have. With my ex-partner, that included a lot of intentions and planning for retirement. Now? I couldn't tell you what my life will look like next year — let alone in five or 25 years.
I no longer have a meaningful retirement plan — practically or theoretically. On one hand, it's exciting to realize that I get to decide what my future will look like. I like that I don't have to follow along with someone else's life plan and compromise my wants. However, it's also challenging to reenvision a long-term future that doesn't look anything like what I had once planned.
The small, daily moments are the hardest
I'll always remember going grocery shopping for the first time after my ex-partner left. I was at the store with a friend and found myself crying in the produce aisle. I couldn't decide what to buy. I was shocked. This was hard. My ex used to travel for work a lot, and I frequently bought groceries for myself, yet there was something different about doing it alone.
These small moments of daily life that I now do alone feel the hardest. During those small moments, I'm hit with loneliness the hardest.
I'm rebuilding my life without my partner
A week after my ex left, one of my closest friends cautioned me not to build my new life in the memory of this relationship. I didn't want to be constantly reminded of my marriage, so I took down all the pictures of us together and boxed them up. I took art and collectibles that had been in my home office and moved them to the living room. I bought new sheets and a beanbag chair to replace the loveseat that my ex took.
I considered selling my house and moving, but it's a great house. Instead, I rearranged furniture and have done everything I could think of to make a house that had been ours, into a home that truly feels like mine.
Time doesn't solve everything, but it does provide a different perspective and hope for the future. Last weekend, for example, I was on a city bus that collided with a car that ran a red light. It was scary, and I suspected I had whiplash, but this time, I also knew I wasn't alone. I immediately called my best friends and chosen family. They offered to come get me, and I know that had I been seriously hurt, they would have helped me through that.
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