What We Should Be Teaching Our Kids About Marriage and Divorce

Right now, many of us are doing it all wrong.

Photo by James Wheeler on Unsplash

I have a utopian vision where divorce does not need to be the worst thing that happens to a family. I know, crazy, right? I happen to know a (small) handful of families who have managed to have healthy divorces and make the transition as painless as possible for their kids. Sometimes it takes a while to get there, but occasionally the process seems to start smoothly and continues on peacefully.

I’ve spent a lot of time pondering what factors make those “good divorces” work. I haven’t landed on any kind of magic formula, but it seems like there are some clear conditions that make it more likely that divorce will be minimally disruptive. For one, the more mutual a divorce is, the more minimal the aftermath. But according to my attorney (and let’s be honest, general layperson observation), a truly mutual, amicable divorce is definitely not the norm. It’s a rare occurrence when a couple arrives at the same conclusion at the same time: whatever brought them together at the beginning is not working any longer. It’s time to move on. They make better co-parents and friends. Sadly, it’s a rare occurrence. What else contributes to a “good divorce?” Well, self-awareness. Doing your own work. Therapy. Accountability. You know, no biggie.

Here’s what I learned after a month-long divorce writing workshop:

I spent the month of September facilitating a four-week workshop where women at various stages of divorce—some currently in the middle of one, others who were decades out—processed their experiences through writing prompts and group discussion.

Of course I would never betray the confidentiality of this group—a safe, supportive, sacred space was the cornerstone of our workshop. But even prior to the group, when surveying divorced writers, a number of themes emerged. Ease and harmony seemed to be the exception to the rule: many shared all too relatable struggles with financial inequity, co-parenting incompatibility, notable hostility, and legal battles. And it made me so fucking sad.

I know it’s idealistic to expect that a couple who once exchanged vows would walk away from a marriage without animosity. But I also think it would be much more realistic if we weren’t doing divorce all wrong, generally speaking.

Throughout my divorce, I couldn’t shake an undercurrent of dismay and disillusionment at the process. We need divorce doulas, I thought over and over. Despite the fact that I had a fantastic attorney and a great therapist, I still felt like families encountering “high conflict” divorces need a hell of a lot more support. Sure, some people (mostly the ones who are in a fairly healthy space to begin with) willingly seek out family therapy; some work with divorce coaches to advocate for a peaceful process. But this is not the norm; I know very few divorced families who utilized support systems like this to really do things well.

Because it seems to me that in most cases, the individual emotional experiences—betrayal, grudges, bitterness, hostility, disappointment, grief—render it impossible to go through divorce without allowing all those feelings to interfere with their ability to “do the right thing for the children.” This need not be the case.

I hear this phrase bandied about over and over—“Just do the right thing for the kids”—and yet so few divorcing couples seem to be able to set aside their own circumstances to dissolve their marriage and create a new normal in a calm, healthy fashion. And while I understand how painful the end of a marriage is, I still feel like as a culture, we need to be doing this so much better than we are. While I have no idea how to get there precisely, I think it starts with another important thing we are getting wrong: marriage.

It’s Time To Do Marriage Better

A few months ago, I wrote a column called Gen X: Marriage Failures. Here’s an excerpt:

Almost all of us fall into an inevitable trap when we are young adults: We are going to unconsciously plunge into relationships while actively carrying the burden of unresolved childhood dynamics, family of origin relationships, generational legacies, or cultural expectations. We simply can’t fucking help it; it just happens.

We develop patterns in relationships that we aren’t aware of; we harbor beliefs about ourselves, our worth, our value, the skills we bring to the table and the things we believe we are lacking. We carry all of this in an invisible trunk, and we drag it up the aisle with us, then later use it to prop our feet on as we dissociate while watching a TV show with our partner.

And this is why I think it is problematic to get married so young: Because it takes a long, long time to make all this unconscious shit conscious. I was exactly 45 years old when I finally opened my eyes to all the reasons I chose to get married, not just once, but twice. How many of us fell in love with a dream instead of a person? And can you blame us, when we cut our teeth on princess movies and playing house?

And here’s the other thing: What if there is no villain when it comes to some divorces? What if the real villain is the societal or familial or generational pressure we feel to get married right now, before we’ve had a chance to learn how to open our eyes? We haven’t been given the opportunity to realize exactly WHY we keep falling into certain relationship patterns; we enact the same tired old story over and over and over.

Until we realize that many of us made problematic choices way back at the beginning, and that it doesn’t make us—or our partners—terrible people, divorce is going to feel devastating. Maybe it’s inevitable that divorce will feel devastating on some level, but if we could somehow detach it from a sense of failure or self-worth and accept that many of us entered marriages or chose partners for less than solid reasons, it would probably feel a lot less traumatic.

A Paradigm Shift

But what if we could pull it off, and teach our kids something better in the meantime? What would if wrote a narrative that went a little more like this?

Relationships are complicated and hard. Sometimes when we are young, we rush into them because we think we are supposed to. We want to have homes and families and do things the “right way.” Sometimes we get it right, and sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we get it right, but then people change and evolve and it’s not working anymore. Sometimes, the right thing to do is to get a divorce.

And when that happens, we create a new family that looks different. We still love, care for, and respect each other, but now you have two homes. Because we are better parents than partners. Because we are people who deserve love and happiness, evolution and compatibility. And it doesn’t make us failures, or cruel, or selfish.

When we say goodbye to a marriage, what if we got to keep the best parts of our former partner and co-parent? What if we are kind and supportive and sit near each other at sporting events? Not all divorced couples will end up being that one unicorn family who harmoniously share future holidays with their new spouses and everyone feels like friends. (My personal divorce icon went on vacations with her ex-husband’s new wife!) And she was a Boomer!) But certainly there is somewhere in the middle of the spectrum where there is respect and friendliness and a release of malice.

Although there was little to be done about the trajectory of my own divorce Lyz Lenz’s This American Ex-Wife was my guide: I read these passages over and over to remind myself that I wasn’t crazy.

“American society has its own religion of not quitting, of sticktoitiveness, of branding divorcees as selfish, and that religion is the religion of “do what's best for the children.” It's an insidious faith that rests on the fundamental belief that parents (specifically mothers), must sacrifice themselves for their children.”

“Divorce disabused me of the myth that I could protect my kids from the heartbreak of life. I wanted them to know that they don't have to live in fear. I wanted them to know that they could make mistakes and burn down their world, and that they could grieve and learn, and that it is never too late to fight for their happiness.” —Lyz Lenz, This American Ex-Wife

This alternate narrative on marriage and divorce could be a guide, if we would allow ourselves to release our death grip on “what should have been.” How could we get there? I think first, we need to teach our children how to have healthy relationships. We need to model them, and speak candidly about romanic relationships and marriage, and encourage them to prioritize their authentic needs and spend time learning how to connect and communicate in partnerships. We can show them that walking away from something that is no longer working—a job, a marriage, a friendship—isn’t a failure.

And when it’s time to end a marriage, we can seek the guidance we need to make it hurt less. What if it was part of process by design? What if divorce “doulas” and coaches and therapists were the norm? I’m not saying that the starting point isn’t naturally going to be pain and anger and blame and sadness. But I feel certain that we could do so much better at creating a path for families to get from that point to a healthier one. It would involve really examining our own shit: what got us here, what are we holding onto, what needs to be released, what tools do we need to learn? It would involve discomfort and growth, an openness to being honest and kind, accountability, and a willingness to compromise. Let’s be honest: Many (most?) people suck at those things.

I have this dream where the new “We’re getting a divorce” conversation looks a little more like the “Santa isn’t real” conversation where we teach our kids that what lies on the other side of what they have known isn’t terrible or scary or devastating. Maybe it sounded more like this:

We are getting a divorce, because we are better parents and friends than partners. We still care for each other and we are going to work hard to make this hurt less. We will talk together about how to be good parents. We won’t put you in the middle, and we know you will be sad and maybe even angry. We will treat each other kindly and try to always be fair about spending time with you. We will work together and be comfortable seeing each other at all your events, because we both love you. If we get remarried to other people someday, we will still work together to support you. Our family will look different now, but we will always be a family.

Those are vows I could actually get behind.

XOXO,
Steph

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