On Divorce: The "You Just Didn't Try Hard Enough" Myth

In late December, my (then) partner and I decided to get a divorce.

The reasons for the divorce are complicated and their own story, one that is between my ex-partner and myself. The Cliff Notes are that for a myriad of reasons, not being together as a couple anymore was the best decision for our family. There were issues on both sides, no one is to blame, and we had A LOT of very important, mature conversations that, frankly, should have happened long before a wedding. A few weeks after my ex moved out, our three and a half year old kid looked at us and said, "thank you for not fighting anymore." I think that explains enough. 

What I feel the need to write about are the reactions. I didn't know what to expect from friends and family (and, as I was soon to find out, strangers). I had kept many of my relationship "issues" away from family, not wanting to harm our image as a couple should we work things out, so it came as a surprise to some of them. Though, for the most part, family and friends (especially) have been supportive, there is a certain rhetoric around divorce that really started to bother me.

"Marriage is hard. You just need to try harder."

I understand where this statement comes from. We live in a culture of seventy-two day marriages, marriages for money, marriages for fame -- there is this idea that marriage isn't taken "seriously" anymore, or that committed relationships in general aren't taken seriously anymore. However, the "marriage is hard" argument has become overused, and when dealing with someone who has tried and tried and realizes that their family is heading down a dark path and divorce is the only way out, a very hurtful and damaging statement.

Marriage IS hard. It's hard living with someone, communicating with someone, making your needs and desires known, sharing a life -- talking about finances, the "boring, adult" stuff. All of that is hard. And marriage takes compromise. It takes each person waking up every morning and choosing to make the relationship work. However, compromise is different than sacrifice. What I found myself doing was sacrificing fundamental parts of myself to try and make the relationship work. I don't blame my ex for this, I did that to myself, but I somehow had lost myself in an effort to do the "right thing" and all it did was hurt my partner and my son. And "hard" is different than "difficult" or a "constant uphill battle." Yes, there will be arguments and disagreements, but every day shouldn't be a battle. Every day shouldn't feel like either walking on eggshells or trudging through a foot of mud. 

Had I realized that earlier, I would have saved us both a lot of pain.

When I first started telling people about the divorce, a lot of response I got was that "choosing love" idea. But it takes two people for a relationship to work. It takes trust, communication, openness, and honesty -- things my ex and I had lost or never had. 

Divorce is an incredibly personal, difficult decision. And, what it comes down to, is that no one, but the people in it, knows the dynamics of the relationship. When we first made the decision, I had my week of crying, of freaking out, of feeling lost. But then I gathered myself up and starting working towards making the best life I can for myself and my kid. Many people took my pragmatic, positive attitude as either not caring or the divorce being solely my decision. If I've learned anything from becoming a mother, and now going through a divorce, it's that I can't control how other people act or what they say, but I can control how I react and how those things make me feel.

I know there are a lot of people out there who are disappointed in me. Who maybe think I didn't try hard enough. But, over the last few months, I have felt a sense of relief, of a weight lifted off my shoulders. I've been a better mother -- more patient and understanding. My kid has had less emotional breakdowns at school, has been a better listener, and has overall had a more positive attitude. That tension in the home is gone. I would rather my kid have two parents that are separated, but happy, than parents who try to stay together "for the kid" and spend their relationship miserable and fighting.

Now, instead, we are attempting to co-parent from separate households -- both still very active in our son's life. My ex may not be my husband anymore, but he always and forever will be our son's dad, and we will always be our son's parents. And he still is, as he always has been, an incredible father.

So, yes, I've become part of a statistic. But I'm learning that it's okay for me to do what I know is best for my family, despite what others think. It all goes back to that old metaphor about putting on your own oxygen mask first. I don't think that's selfish. If I am going to be a good mom (and eventually a good partner again), I need to make sure I'm taking care of myself, too -- that includes physical, emotional, and intellectual needs. 

I know I'll hold a stigma -- maybe only for a little while, maybe forever -- but I have learned more about myself, love, and relationships over the past four years than I ever have in my life. For that I am thankful. 

And I know that if a friend ever comes to me in the same situation, I won't fall back on "marriage is hard," or "well, did you try?" or "love is a choice." Instead, I'll offer support. I'll be someone to listen. I'll help with a new budget, or childcare, or going out for drinks -- whatever that person needs. The best response I ever heard was, "I'm sorry this happened to you. What can I do to be supportive?"

My Disneyland Hypocrisy

On a normal basis, I am very pro-small business. I actively try to attend the Farmer’s Market every Saturday morning to get fresh, local produce (and use public transport to get there – yay!). I stay as far away from Wal-Mart as possible. When the bank allows, I try to shop at all my favorite mom and pop stores. We love supporting local, independent breweries and I try my hardest not to waste (we recycle, use cloth diapers, that sort of good stuff). When we eventually have a yard, I want to grow my own veggies and practice composting. I always make jokes about “the man” and corporations, yet…

                I love Disneyland. LOVE Disneyland. Love as in the we-have-annual-passes-even-though-we-really-can’t-afford-it, any-time-we-come-to-Long-Beach-we-go, smooshy-ooey-gooey, unicorns and rainbows, kind of way. And Disney, well, it basically is the epitome of consumerism and waste.

                I don’t even like the whole “rescue me, oh prince, because I’m a helpless princess”story lines. Or the fact that all the princesses are unrealistically thin and have to be saved by a man in order to be happy. I mean, where are all the queer, genderfck princesses at?

                Yet, when I enter Main Street and hear the Disneyland band playing a tune and walk up the middle of the street to that big, pink castle, I’m filled with giddy happiness. I love the Buzz Lightyear ride and geek out on all the Star Wars merchandise. I spend way too much money on one ear of corn from Frontierland and love my ride through hell on Mr. Toad’s. The carousel is always a must and I am ever so excited for the opening of The Little Mermaid ride in the near future.

                But I know it’s all fake. And I know the Disney corporation both makes and spends copious amounts of money all so that people can indulge in these fantasies that usually reinforce heternormative, patriarchal society. You should have seen me go into a gender theory reading over the Tiki Room. I could write a whole blog post about the phallic symbol of that burst of water in the middle of the room, about how all the birds that actually talk and have names are male, and that the only female birds we see don’t have individual voices but sing, in unison, in over-feminized costumes and are beckoned from the ceiling by the main male bird. Yet, I still skip and dance right past the Tiki Room on my way to New Orleans.

                I guess it’s hard to always, no matter what, practice what you preach. I recognize the hypocrisy in my love for Disney but I also recognize how it is yet another example in my life about how everything is not just black and white. On one hand, Disney can be seen as evil reinforcement of societal norms and the constant need for more-more-more. On the other hand, Disney does donate to charities and brings happiness to lots of people. And maybe it’s good to get alternative culture into the middle of something so big and so mainstream to start changing it from the inside out (like the LGBTQ weekend at Disneyland every October. It’s not technically Disney sanctioned, but oh man, is it practiced). We’re obviously a long way off from seeing a gay princess and his prince but by people participating in the Disney culture in their own unique ways, we’ve begun our process of storming that pretty, pink castle.

Tomboys & Tiaras

My ten-year-old self would laugh if I showed her a picture of me today. She would probably  say a sarcastic “yeah, right,” roll her eyes, and walk away in her supa cool Nike high tops (the ones that velcroed around the ankle). Or she would jog off, “boy” jean shorts hitting against her knees and her one-size-too-large Tazmanian Devil shirt (spinning a basketball on his finger in a tornado) flopping beneath her chin-length, blonde, short hair.

                Never did I think I would one day wear high heels, polka dot dresses and red lipstick.

                Even my high school, sandal-or-nothing, rashguard wearing self would have scoffed at the red hair.  Even up until my first two years of college, when I embraced feminism and switched out sandals for Doc Martens and board shorts for “guy” jeans and constantly preached the objectification of women as sexual objects, would I have never thought this is what I would see in the mirror. Curled hair? Eye liner? A BRA?!

                But, this is another taboo/misconception: that feminism equals a rejection of everything that has been traditionally defined as “feminine.” But just because I wear a skirt doesn’t mean my feminist ideals aren’t intact. I don’t wear high heels because I’ve been told they are what I have to wear to feel sexy or confident. The clothes I wear are ones I believe look good because I like the style. I like the way pencil skirts and sweetheart tops fit my body. I prefer red hair over my natural blonde. And, occasionally, it’s fun to do up the hair and look like a blast from the past.

                However, this is in large part because the gender I identify with happens to match my sex. I’m all for those females that have chosen to ditch the skirt and heels because they don’t identify with the stereotypical images of a “feminine” gender or they do believe those objects signify oppression from the past. For me, part of embracing the ultra-“feminine” is to help rewrite those significations. That wearing a dress doesn’t mean I can’t play in the dirt; that wearing heels doesn’t mean I’m delicate and vulnerable; that looking pretty doesn’t mean I’m not intelligent. It also helps to fight against that idea that once a woman becomes a mother she relinquishes her sexual identity (but more on that in a later post).

                What’s important to remember is that feminists take on many forms. There are as many forms physically as there are feminist philosophies.  Funk is a feminist and he has a penis! *gasp* When I bake delicious blueberry fudge vegan brownies in a red, ruffled apron it’s because it’s fun to play dress up (and I have a tendency to get flour everywhere); when I wear my Docs and a bandana around my head when I go shooting it’s because it’s fun to play dress up (and I sweat like crazy and want to protect my feet). Either way, I feel lucky to live in a time where gender is beginning to get rewritten, or at least there is a community where we are playing with the significations. My ten-year-old self, the one who played tackle football in the mud and played with My Little Ponies, who loved singing to The Little Mermaid and helped her dad with construction projects, would have understood that part.