Why I Don’t Celebrate My Divorce

self insemination kit

In recent discussions, there’s been a rising sentiment suggesting that divorces should be met with cheers rather than sympathy. Some advocate for commemorating the end of a marriage with parties instead of mourning. I can appreciate this perspective; I’ve encountered many divorced individuals who’ve found liberation in their separation. For some, the end of a troubled marriage signifies the dawn of a brighter chapter. There are tales of escaping abusive situations and protecting children from a toxic environment, and in those instances, celebrating freedom is undeniably warranted.

However, that’s not my story. I won’t be celebrating my divorce.

Sure, I’m in a better place now. The end of my marriage meant breaking free from lies, betrayal, and a disregard that nearly shattered my identity. But it also signified the loss of beautiful dreams we had shared. When we finalized our divorce, we dismantled aspirations that had been nurtured over years, tearing apart commitments made to ourselves, to one another, and to our children.

The Impact on My Children

Speaking of the kids, that’s another reason I refuse to throw a celebration for my split. While it’s true that some families find stability post-divorce, my children faced a different reality. During the early, awkward stages of our separation, I had a heart-wrenching conversation with my ex. I desperately tried to convince him that divorce was not the answer to our problems. “This will devastate the kids,” I pleaded. He brushed it off, saying, “People get divorced all the time. They’ll adjust.”

Fast forward eight years, and yes, my kids are doing “fine” in many ways. But it wasn’t always that way. There were long stretches of turmoil, leaving emotional scars that may fade with time but will never truly disappear. The idea that a family can break and not be affected is simply unrealistic.

I have four children, and each dealt with the divorce in their own unique way. There were tears, anger, and the loss of our family home. As a stay-at-home parent, I suddenly found myself scrambling for employment and childcare while our cherished routines disintegrated. Holidays turned into a logistical balancing act, alternating between homes each year, leaving us all a bit unmoored.

Facing Challenges Together

Therapy sessions became part of our lives, and school challenges emerged. I was painfully aware that my children faced stigma—not just from insensitive individuals but from society at large. Each misstep or struggle felt like a judgment against my parenting. At one point, I feared we might lose one of our children to depression. While we can’t attribute it solely to the divorce, it certainly didn’t help.

My children witnessed my struggles, my mornings when getting out of bed felt impossible. The grief of seeing a marriage unravel was overwhelming. In those early days, I often doubted I’d make it through.

Finding Strength in Adversity

Yet, I did rise. I did move forward. That’s what I choose to celebrate.

Every day I laughed more than I cried? That’s worth celebrating. Watching my children grow into remarkable young adults? Absolutely worth a toast. The unwavering love and support from my incredible friends? Definitely deserving of recognition. Discovering that overcoming adversity truly builds character—our small family now bursting with resilience? A reason to celebrate. And filling out that FAFSA all on my own? You bet I’m celebrating that milestone.

I want to clarify: I will celebrate the journey of healing. I will acknowledge the fight I put into saving my marriage until it was clear it was a lost cause. I will embrace the triumphs and challenges of those daunting firsts, some navigated with grace and others merely by chance. If you want to raise a glass to how far my kids and I have come since those dark beginnings, I’d be all for it (make mine a dirty martini, please).

But the divorce itself? That soul-crushing experience that nearly broke me? No, I can’t celebrate that. If you want to revel in your own divorce, I get it. I might even join you for the festivities. But for me, that chapter remains uncelebrated.

Now, about those martinis.