My Divorce Broke Me

Over two years have passed since my ex-husband left me, but I still remember the day clearly. The pain is no longer sharp, but it lives within me, tucked into quiet corners of my heart.

We were together for eight years, married for four. When it ended, I was devastated – heartbroken, angry, betrayed, and completely lost. I had built a life around someone I loved, only to watch it fall apart.

I always dreamed of a partner to share life with, someone to grow with, to build a home and a family with. But I always wondered how those dreams could turn into reality with the way I was; so I never thought of them as values. Before I met my ex-husband, I had never been in a serious relationship. I was 25, independent, and focused on my career. Dating apps were popular, but I avoided them. And the one day I was dared to download one, I connected with him.

He was open from the start, and told me about his dream of a nomadic life. Seattle was just a temporary stop for him, and often he’d accept job opportunities which allowed him to move throughout the country. On our second date, he mentioned he didn’t want biological children – maybe adoption, but he wasn’t sure. At the time, I didn’t really know what I wanted either, and so we stayed together.

Two years in, I began to understand my own values more clearly. I realized I did want children. I wanted a stable life, a rooted home, a family. I told him maybe we needed to go our separate ways, but somehow, a year and a half later, we got married.

In hindsight, I wish I could say his leaving was a complete shock – but it wasn’t. There were signs and endless red flags I foolishly ignored. Still, the pain caught me off guard. I had poured so much of myself into that relationship. I loved him fully. Maybe too fully. I let go of parts of myself, of what I wanted, to keep the relationship going. That was my decision, and it’s something I’ve had to come to terms with.

Before I met him, there was a Bible verse I held close: “Guard your heart above all else, for it determines the course of your life.”
I didn’t guard mine.

Now at 35, I can see that the marriage was better off ending, and I understand that we weren’t right for each other in the ways that matter most. But I’m still mourning. I’m grieving the relationship, the dreams I let go of, and the time I’ll never get back. While there are many ways to have children, it still hurts that there’s a high probability that I will not have any of my own. My biological clock ticks louder now, and some days, that feels unbearably heavy.

I know I’m strong. I know I’ll be okay. People go through heartbreak and come out stronger. And I’ve made it through some of the hardest moments already. But after acknowledging all of this, I still want love. I want to be held, cherished, and cared for; as much as it’s difficult for an independent woman to admit. I want to feel like I matter to someone – like I’m not too much, or not enough.

With him, I often felt like I wasn’t a priority. That I was too complicated, too emotional, or just not the right fit. It’s a deep and painful thing to realize that someone you loved so completely didn’t feel the same.

The day he left was terrible. The days that followed were worse. I felt abandoned, confused, and alone.

But slowly, I began to rebuild. I found a job that I love. I began to feel independent again. I started to recognize my worth – what I bring to a relationship, what I deserve.

And still, there are days I cry. Not because I want him back, but because I’m finally letting myself feel everything I pushed aside just to keep going. My therapist says I’m grieving. That when he left, I went into survival mode. And now, I’m moving through the waves of emotion that come with real healing.

And on top of it all, I currently find myself mourning two different things at once. The end of my marriage – and a missed opportunity with someone who showed up in my life unexpectedly. Someone who reminded me what it felt like to be seen again. It was brief, but it was real. The timing was all wrong – my divorce hadn’t even been finalized yet. I wasn’t ready, even if part of me wanted to be.

But that’s a sip of coffee for another time.

This is what healing looks like for me: it’s layered, it’s messy, and it’s mine.
I’m still here – still learning, still believing that love, the kind I deserve, is out there. And next time, I won’t abandon myself to find it.