This Is Why It's So Hard To Heal From Divorce

When the life you lost is still right in front of you

It’s hard to pinpoint what makes divorce so damn hard to recover from. 

It’s loss, yes.

It’s grief, yes.

But it is a type of loss and grief that doesn’t seem to have a clear ending.

Not that grief after losing someone we love has a neat ending either. It doesn’t.

But there are often moments, rituals and markers that help us make sense of what has happened.

There is a funeral. There are people gathered around you. There is a date attached to the beginning of this new reality.

Divorce doesn’t always give us that.

Divorce grief can feel blurry, foggy and disorientating.

There are the years before the separation when some part of you knew the relationship was struggling. Does the grieving start there?

There’s the day you both finally admit that something has changed. Is that where it begins?

The day one of you moves out?

The day the papers are signed?

The day you hear your ex is in a new relationship?

The list goes on.

There are so many moments where you can suddenly find yourself dropped back into grief without any warning.

And there is one part of divorce grief that I think nobody really prepares us for.

Your ex is still there.You could pick up the phone and call them.

You can still see them. You can still be in the same room as them.

But is it really the same person?

Or is it a new version of the person you once knew? The person you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with.

For years after my divorce, I struggled with this.

I would find myself caught in this strange cycle of grief and confusion. Wondering why something that had happened years ago could still affect me so deeply.

Was there something wrong with me?

Why did this loss feel so much harder and more complicated than other difficult things I had experienced?

I have survived a lot of hardship in my life. I know I am resilient.

But there was something about divorce grief that felt different.

It was only later that I came across a term that finally helped me understand what was happening.

Ambiguous loss.

 A loss where something is gone, but not completely gone. A person who is still there, but not in the same way. A life that existed, but no longer exists.

No wonder this type of loss can feel so confusing.

When I first heard those words, I felt a sense of relief.

Finally, there was language for something I had been carrying for years.

I remember one Christmas in particular. I was at my ex-husband’s house, celebrating with my children. His new partner was there.

And I remember having this strange, almost surreal feeling.

I was sitting in a place that had once been my family home.

With my children.

With my ex-husband.

And yet...

it wasn’t my family home anymore.

Everything looked familiar, but felt so very different.

My brain was trying to make sense of this strange reality.

We are all here, but not in the way we used to be.

That, to me, is the heart of ambiguous loss.

It doesn’t necessarily matter whether you wanted the marriage to end or whether you know, logically, that ending the relationship was the right thing.

You can still grieve the life that didn’t happen.

You can still grieve the future you imagined.

As my children have grown older and started reaching different milestones, I have noticed these types of feelings surface again.

I watch them experience new chapters of their lives and wonder what it would have looked like if we had stayed together.

Again, there it is.

That strange feeling of looking at my children, and my ex-spouse, and knowing that something important was both there and gone at the same time.

Learning about ambiguous loss has helped me understand myself better as I move into this next stage of life.

My daughter still lives with me half the time, but she graduates high school next year. Things may change. My son moved out of home a year ago, and I’m only just beginning to fully adjust to that transition.

These changes stir up emotion. But having a name for what I am experiencing helps me stay anchored and acknowledge the sadness without getting swept away by it.

Because there is also a life in front of me. A life I want to build for myself.

My business.

My friendships.

My future relationships.

The contribution I want to make in the world.

These are the things I want to cultivate and pay attention to.

I want to honour the feelings of ambiguous loss without allowing them to keep me stuck in the past.

And that is the intention I continue to set for myself.

What about you?

Maybe, as you read this, you recognised some of your own experience in these words. Moments you still find yourself grieving a life that no longer exists. Maybe certain places, memories or milestones still bring up emotions that surprise you.

If that is you, I want you to know that you are not alone.

Sometimes we are carrying a loss that we simply haven’t had the words to understand.

Learning about ambiguous loss helped me stop questioning why I felt the way I did. It helped me meet those feelings with more compassion.

This is the work I support people with in my coaching — learning how to move forward after divorce while still honouring everything that has been lost along the way.

You don’t have to erase your past to create a future you love.

You simply have to learn how to carry it differently.

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If you’re looking for thoughtful, one-to-one support as you rebuild your life after divorce, you can apply to work with me here.

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