Four years ago, I closed the door to my condo and then collapsed on the floor, sobs shaking my body. My marriage had just ended. Although I’d seen this coming for seven years, I wasn’t at all ready for its end. I knew that life would be very different now, but I had no idea what I needed to do next or how much everything would change. However, for now, I had five kids playing in their bedrooms who needed supper, so I pulled myself off the floor, wiped my eyes, and went to finish making pierogies and sausage.
When Community Becomes Family
For years, I had pushed for us to move back to Alberta to be closer to our families, for just such a reason as this. A family emergency made the lack of family nearby all the more apparent. Then my community stepped in to be the family I needed. I didn’t know how to talk about what had just happened in my marriage—good Catholic couples don’t get divorced. However, there were things I really couldn’t do, so I tentatively began to ask for help.
I told a friend of mine I’d no longer be able to keep volunteering with our group as I’d separated from my husband. She didn’t ask any questions; she just offered to set up a meal train for me. I felt reluctant to accept; after all, I was physically capable of cooking meals for my family. I wasn’t incapacitated by a new baby or a surgery, as others in our community had been when we’d set up meals trains for them. Then I told myself that yes, it was okay to accept this offer of help.
She set up the meal train, with a gentle explanation, and again, nobody asked more questions. They simply dropped off meals. After one drop-off, my daughter asked me, “Who was that?” I said, “I don’t know.” I stood crying over the casserole dish, awed that someone I barely knew was willing to make us food in a time of need. We were provided with meals for a month and those meals were often a life-saver. On days when I could barely think about what came next, much less what to feed my kids, meals arrived at our door every second day.
One friend referred me to her lawyer and another friend helped me find a therapist. One friend offered childcare for my youngest two children while I took my older three girls with me to DivorceCare once a week. That became a safe space for me each week, as I was able to openly share about my situation in a group of people going through a similar struggle. I felt seen and heard, able to begin facing the truth of my difficult marriage and what it would now be like to move forward as a single mom.
When I needed to move that fall, several young men from our parish came over with their trucks to help me haul boxes and furniture into our new home. We’d load up our three trucks, drive them over to the new place, and unload them again. One of the young men came back to help me fix several faulty lights in my new home. It was slated for demolition in ten months, so I’d rented it on the condition that I was responsible for everything—I’d have to fix anything that broke.
Finding My Inner Strength
And things broke. In my condo, before our move, the washing machine quit working. I didn’t have money to call a repair man, so I turned it over myself and fished out the barely-recognizable sock and underwear plugging the drain. The furnace broke. The hot water tank needed to be replaced. After our move into the tear-down, the toilet quit. The furnace quit. The stove quit. The sink leaked. I fixed the toilet (after a phone call to my brother and a trip to the hardware store for a $20 part that took me 20 minutes to install). I couldn’t fix the furnace and the oven fix was too expensive to bother, so I bought space heaters and a toaster oven instead.
Being able to fix these things and take care of my kids gave me a sense of strength and confidence in myself. Previously, I’d leaned heavily on my dad and brothers and then on my ex-husband whenever something mechanical needed to be fixed. Home and vehicle repairs were “his” duty and so I tried to ignore them. Now, I found myself proud that I could trouble-shoot a problem and find a solution. Or I’d call my brother (who lived in Alberta) and he’d give me a few tips to get me started in the right direction, and I’d go fix the problem. He sent me a box of old tools to help; that used impact driver made me feel so proud of myself.
Despite that, there were days when I fell into bed exhausted and cried myself to sleep. There were days when I wrote pages in my journal as I tried to process my emotions and stress. There were days when I leaned heavily on my older girls to babysit their younger siblings because I needed a night off with my girlfriends or just didn’t have the patience for their younger brother’s big needs. We went skiing a lot that year, because we still had a pass, and something about the mountains has always been my happy place. I tried to make time for each of my kids, taking them out on one-on-one dates whenever I could and trying to help them process all the changes in their lives.
Dealing with My Divorce
Divorce is messy and unpleasant and difficult. My ex and I clashed again and again over our expectations and ideas about what our separation should look like and how we should parent and other issues. We ended up in court repeatedly, trying to get help to resolve the issues we couldn’t agree on. Besides DivorceCare and therapy, I also had online support groups whom I leaned on heavily to help me in ups and downs that I faced. My mom and brothers were also a huge support, financially and emotionally, throughout this time.
We moved twice more. Finding a home to rent, as a single mom with five kids and no income (and then one cat), in the hot housing market in the lower mainland, was not an easy task. Most landlords weren’t even willing to show their places to me. I prayed hard, asking God to open the right door for me, but He seemed to be closing every door. When He did finally open a door, it took me several nudges to be willing to accept it. We ended up in a new community, but one that has abundantly blessed us and now feels like home, as nowhere else in the lower mainland ever did.
My ex and I finalized our divorce in April 2024. I felt a great sense of closure as we finally reached an agreement about so many issues that had been affecting our relationship. And then I crashed hard. I’d been pushing myself for three years to take care of my kids and myself and to support us financially via my blog and in April, with the relief of resolution, I just couldn’t do it anymore. I quit writing, editing or publishing. I simply homeschooled my kids, talked to my friends, and biked.
One person who’d become a huge support to me through this time was my cousin. While I’d known him for a while, we became better friends after my separation. He helped me when I had computer problems and we began biking and hiking together. He listened to me as I processed what had gone wrong in my marriage and what my kids and I were going through now. And his encouragement helped me get back into cycling. As a teenager, I’d often gone for long rides to deal with stress and bad days. Now, exercise once again helped me with all the stress that I’d bottled up into my body. Pushing myself hard on my bike felt good and I went for longer and longer rides, riding 85 km in the Valley Gran Fondo in June and then 94 km on the Galloping Goose in July.
Music was another source of comfort and healing for me. The kids and I were often listening to music as we drove to and from activities, and more often than not, one of the songs on the radio would touch me with a reminder of God’s love for me. I created a Spotify playlist of some of my favourite songs, songs that spoke of trusting God even in the darkest and hardest days. I clung to those songs, as well as to the Psalms, where David and other poets cry out to God with all their deepest emotions. A friend sent me songs to cheer me up or encourage me, and I added these to another playlist that lifted my spirits when I was cooking or helped me fall asleep on nights when my head was spinning with the day’s stresses.
Moving Forward with Hope
The past four years have been full of debilitating stress, amazing friends, deep depression, new opportunities, big learning curves, and massive struggles. I’ve laughed, I’ve cried, I’ve screamed and hit my knees. I’ve read numerous books about recovering from trauma and healing past wounds. I’ve worked with my therapist and with my friends to process how I got here and how I can help my kids and myself move forward in a healthy, positive way.
I am now remarried to an awesome man. I own a duplex in the lower mainland. My kids are all in good schools, with supportive teachers and good friends. We’ve found a status quo with their dad, whom they spend weekends with. I’m getting back into my writing and creativity and returning to past passions that I’d given up, like rock climbing and hiking and biking. Four years ago, when I closed that door and hit the floor in tears, I couldn’t have imagined any of this. While there are things that I wish I’d done differently, both in the past four years and in the years before that, I am very grateful for where I am today and for the people who helped me get here.
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