Learning to live as a family post-divorce

In the beginning

It’s three years to the day since I asked my husband for a divorce. During that time, I’ve experienced dizzying highs and terrifying lows. I’ve avoided depression – I don’t have the chemistry for it, apparently – but I have, at times, felt overwhelmed with life’s ‘stuff’. On the other hand, picking my way through separation and divorce has given me a confidence that I didn’t know existed. Some sort of peace. A calm happiness.

Our children – two boys, aged 14 and 12 – are happy and settled. We talk about our family set up from time-to-time, and they seem ok that theirs is a dual life of two houses, two sets of everything, one parent at a time. They’re doing well at school. We laugh a lot (usually at me).

It’s been a sod of a journey though. Much, much harder and more complex than I could have imagined. Although I blamed my ex at the time for his completely unreasonable behaviour, it wasn’t his fault. Divorces are, by their very nature, extremely difficult and unwieldy beasts.

The surprise

When the day dawned – ‘D Day’ – we were still on speaking terms. Our relationship had cracked beyond recovery but I had always assumed that we’d manage to co-parent pretty well – albeit separately. I mean, we were decent human beings, right? So supporting each other in raising our children, as well as supporting them of course”¦ well, it should be second nature.

My assumptions were wrong. After I’d uttered the phrase, “So, as we live so close, we can babysit for each other, can’t we?”, my ex’s look of disdain, horror and, frankly, unbridled hate took me by surprise.

“I will never babysit for you. I will never enter your house. If I had my way, I would never see or speak with you again.”

To say I was taken aback was an understatement. I had completely misjudged his feelings, the depth of his hurt. He told me that he wanted his surname back. He told me that the only way I could communicate with him was by email. There would be no financial support. And when the children were with him, I was not to contact them.

Teenagers aren’t always aware of all of their own feelings, and mental health problems only complicate things further. Teens may deny that there’s anything wrong or that they’re experiencing strong emotions, even to themselves. In other cases, young people may know that they don’t feel the way that they want to, but may not be able to identify what they are feeling or pinpoint the reason for their feelings.

Now

And then came Tween’s accident. I called my ex straight away, asking him to meet us at the hospital. I’ll always remember that he said, “thank you for calling me.” I looked at him, bewildered. Of course I would call him. Of course.

We took turns to be with our son whilst he was in hospital. My ex bought me coffee. He not only brought me coffee – he paid for it, too. A tiny thing, maybe, to anyone else – but to me, an olive branch. A sign of support. We talked quietly together in a way that we hadn’t done for years. Or maybe ever. And when Tween came home from hospital and I was struggling to arrange childcare for him while I worked, my ex came round to help. I made him tea. I went to work, and he babysat.

I even forgave him when he didn’t use a chopping board and put bread knife marks on my new worktop.

So it has taken three years and a serious accident for us to rebuild our relationship. Or at least, put the foundations back in. Yesterday, I wondered about asking him over for Christmas. The children would like that.

And so would I.