This is the part of divorce no one talks about.
The more I’m forced to learn about divorce, the more I think it’s a lot like motherhood.
No one tells you about the padsicles or how much labor actually hurts. They don’t mention the depth of the sacrifice you’ll have to make, or how you’ll sometimes wish you could have just one day in the life you knew before.
If they did, you might wrongly believe you couldn’t do it, that you weren’t quite strong enough to survive all it would demand of you.
You’d be wrong, but your fear would rightly match the scale of the climb in front of you.
Divorce is a lot like that.
No one tells you grief isn’t linear—that one minute you’re fine, and the next, you’re right back to day one. They don’t mention the punch in the gut it is to drop your kids off for the weekend, to walk out of places you were once welcomed into.
I think that must be one of the reasons God hates divorce (Malachi 2:16).
I can’t imagine seeing my children endure this kind of pain.
I can’t imagine watching my children walk away from their children, desperately wanting to hang onto them for another moment but knowing they have to leave.
I can’t imagine watching my children silently cry as they pull out of a driveway that once felt like home.
This is the messy part of divorce; the part that lingers and rears its ugly head just when you think you’re OK.
If you’re sitting in a too-quiet house tonight, all I can tell you is this: Keep going, keep showing up.
One day, tears will be dried; brokenness will be restored.
Hold your head high. Today doesn’t define you; divorce doesn’t define who you are.
I don’t know what tomorrow will hold—maybe more tears, hopefully, some smiles.
But I can promise you don’t have to walk it alone.
Tears will be dried–one day. One day.
Originally published on the author’s Facebook page