Finding Love After Divorce

Imagine you’re only twenty-seven years old, and you’ve just signed your divorce papers. A divorce you would have never imagined as you sit on your couch in your tiny New York City apartment on the Upper East Side that you now share with two roommates, not the husband who you thought you would grow old with.

The tears drop onto the papers, and you must brush them off before they soil the ink and the papers themselves. You sign your name on each seemingly endless piece of paper.

Each page judging you and questioning…how did you get here?

Imagine looking for a notary at a busy Chase Bank on 86th Street, holding back tears but then unsuccessfully keeping them at bay and crying to a complete stranger. Imagine having to be strong while emailing your soon-to-be ex-husband so you can figure out who will get what, insurance information, and grownup things. Imagine leaving your belongings on a whim, picking up your beloved pup under your arm, and calling your father to come get you and your small bag.

It was like a scene from a movie, one where I had the leading role, and it was surreal.

I had a choice to make. I could blame, scream, cry, and lose myself. And I did. I allowed myself to become a disaster at my parents’ house for one week. I didn’t eat; I cried, wondered, yelled, and cried some more. And then I was done. I felt my feelings, and then I pushed them away.

I wasn’t going to give more of myself to something that didn’t serve me, and I have stood by that promise to myself since that day in 2009. I decided to see an apartment exactly 20 blocks from my teaching job in East Harlem. This would be my fresh start. Jameson, my faithful canine companion, and I were moving up to the East Side.

Did I have an awful, sad year living as a woman navigating divorce in the big city? Yes. Did I also enjoy exploring, trying new restaurants, indulging in retail therapy, and dancing with my friends on random Wednesday nights? Also, yes!

I learned a lot about myself that year. I learned I was resilient. I learned I was strong. I learned that I valued my self-worth. I also learned that God doesn’t give you what you can’t handle.

Two years later, on a Wednesday night, I walked into a “firefighter bar” that is no longer open today. Little did I know that I would meet my future husband, with whom I would go on to have three beautiful children.

The next night, we went on our first official date, and I remember being so nervous telling him that I was divorced. I honestly felt like the only divorced girl in New York City. I was petrified of being judged since most 29-year-olds were getting engaged and married, and I was still learning how to heal. 

When I finally blurted it out, he looked at me and said, “Oh, me too! But I was married even younger than you were!” I felt like I could finally breathe. There was someone right in front of me that understood what I went through.

In 2013, we got married with our one-and-a-half-year-old in my arms. I wasn’t one of those girls who swore off marriage after my bad experience. As hard as it was, I knew I would be a good wife and owed it to myself to keep an open mind and heart.

Having been divorced and then having my daughter showed me that people shouldn’t feel pressure to do things “in order” or to get married to someone because “that’s the next step.”

Wait until you’re sure, and then wait a little longer. Even though I have been through a divorce, I luckily didn’t have to get through it with children because that is a whole other level of difficulty. Kudos to all the parents going through a divorce and staying strong for their children.

While our marriage isn’t perfect and has been through many difficult times, we do our best to communicate and navigate challenges as best as possible. We have both tried to learn from the past, and doing our best is the best we can do.