Dear Suddenly Single,
I’ve started this letter half a dozen times, and every version makes me sound either pathetic or angry. The truth is, I’m both, plus a whole lot more.
I’m fifty-nine years old. Three months ago, on an ordinary Tuesday evening, my husband came home from work, ate the chicken I had made for dinner, asked me how my day had been, and then told me he wanted a divorce.
There was no screaming, no counselling, no years of sleeping in separate bedrooms. He simply said he “wasn’t happy anymore” and hadn’t been for years. Then he told me he’d already rented an apartment and would be moving out that weekend.
I remember staring at him and thinking, This can’t possibly be the conversation that’s about to destroy my life.
For thirty years, we built everything together. We raised two wonderful children. We paid off the mortgage. We argued over paint colours and where to vacation and whose turn it was to take the dog to the vet. We made plans for retirement. We spent years saying things like, “When we’re retired…” as though it were a destination we were both unquestionably headed toward.
But apparently only one of us was. And the worst part is that I never saw it coming.
People keep asking whether there were signs. I honestly don’t know. He’d seemed quieter over the past year, but he’d always gone through phases like that. He never mentioned being unhappy. Never suggested counselling. Never said he was thinking of leaving. I didn’t wake up one morning married to a man who was halfway out the door. I woke up married to a man who had apparently already left months earlier without telling me.
I’ve spent the last three months walking through my own house like a zombie. Every room reminds me of a future that no longer exists. Friends tell me I’ll be fine because I’m strong. My grown kids remind me that I have them. My sister says this is the beginning of an exciting new chapter. But I want to scream every time I hear someone say that. Because I don’t want a new chapter. I want the ending we’d spent thirty years writing together.
The truth, which I’m ashamed to admit, is that I’m terrified. When I come home from work, I often just sit in the kitchen and wonder what on earth the rest of my life is supposed to look like. Everyone keeps telling me I’ll get through this but no one is telling me how.
— Completely Lost
Dear Completely Lost,
The first thing I’d like you to do is stop apologizing for being afraid. You seem to be embarrassed that you’re scared, as though fear at fifty-nine it is no longer respectable to feel this emotion.
I couldn’t disagree more.
At twenty-nine we believe we have time to recover from almost anything. At fifty-nine, we know exactly how precious time is, which makes unexpected loss feel all the more frightening.
Yes, you’ve lost the future you believed was a given. No wonder you’re frightened. But I suggest that you not worry about the next ten years. Instead, just make tomorrow a little different from today.
Just a little.
Because we don’t rebuild our lives in dramatic, cinematic moments. We rebuild them Tuesday by Tuesday. And over time, these small changes will quietly re-introduce you to the woman you once were. She will likely turn out to be far more capable than you had given her credit for.
Next, as Prudence often likes to do, I am calling on the advice of our queen and patron saint, Lizzo. Because it is Lizzo who gave us the following ever-so wise words:
You were indeed blindsided by someone you loved who told you they didn’t love you anymore. So walk your fine ass out the door. You remain the same smart, funny, interesting, and loveable person you were before this news.
Your husband’s decision has almost everything to do with him, and very little to do with you. Grieve your marriage and relationship, but do not doubt even for a moment your own worth.
Your marriage was one chapter. A significant and long one, certainly. But not the whole book.
Your future will be filled with much happiness and I am sure you will find your path to achieving it.
-Suddenly Single
