Divorce could be the best thing to happen to your family, too, says Mark Radcliffe.
The other night a friend of mine confessed he was thinking of getting a divorce. After hearing his reasons why and finding them plausible, I bluntly asked him what was holding him back.
“Really?” he barked. “Because I don’t want to ruin my life. Not yet, anyway.”
And, hey, I get it. Divorce gets a bad rap. It’s frequently billed as the ultimate example of failure in life—personal, romantic, and familial. And a lot of those who’ve been through it refer to it with a tough swallow, advising you to never even think of going there.
But I’m here to defend it.
Yes, I said it: Divorce can be a wonderful thing.
Let’s not get carried away: I’m not recommending it as a primary goal in life. Nor am I saying it should be the first option when a marriage hits a rough patch. My position is simply that sometimes divorce can actually be a healthy new beginning—not just for the two parties divorcing, but for their kids, too, and for relationships with in-laws, friends, co-workers, and everyone else affected by the warring couple.
I say all this because my parents got divorced. In my opinion, it was the best thing that ever happened to our family. My parents’ marriage was never hostile or abusive, but it was rife with incompatibilities and differing priorities, including huge disagreements on crucial subjects like politics, money, and parenting. When they divorced after nearly 20 years of marriage, it was years overdue.
I was terrified of it happening to my family at the time. I had been listening to the escalating discord between my parents for years and knew where it could be heading. I spent many nights in bed hoping we’d dodge that awful fate—the stigma of being a divorced family, as if there were something defective about us all. That we—all of us—were fallen, never to rise again.
But when it finally happened—much to my surprise—things began getting better almost immediately.
For the first time, everyone was finally being honest about what was going on and how they felt. It was the late 80s; honesty wasn’t so popular yet. It was all about a slick veneer. And from the outside, things looked great. We led a nauseatingly-privileged, white, upper-class existence. My two brothers and I were A-students, and all five of us were extremely athletic. Most of my friends and neighbors thought we were living the American Dream™.
But inside the house it was another story. Things were always tense, frustrated, uncomfortable. My dad was a stressed-out doctor who had a substantial anger-management problem, and his outbursts had us all living under a cloud of fear. We were all hiding from him and each other. My brothers, mother and I learned to just shut up and never express ourselves. Slowly my mother began to withdraw into herself, hiding the opinions she knew he’d disagree with just to keep up a false semblance of harmony. Family dinners were uptight as hell. I longed for them to be over so I could head over to my friends’ houses, to join families that actually laughed and seemed to enjoy each other’s company.
The divorce was by no means an instant cure, but within the first year, even though there was more arguing, the honesty amongst us all was instantly preferable to the years of living in angry silence. Not only did my mother and father finally get everything out on the table, but my brothers and I threw our frustrations into the ring, too—not only with our parents, but with each other. We thought, hell, we’re already a “broken home,” no point in holding back now. We all threw away the filter and learned what each and every one of us really thought of each other. And I genuinely believe the transformation led me to my eventual careers in writing, teaching, and music.
So while most of the world still sees divorce as if a disease, I was very much “saved” by my parents’ split. And they became better people as a result of it, too, conceding their mistakes and both going on to healthier second marriages. I’ve seen dozens of my friends go through a similar process, where, though they were terrified of divorce at the time, are infinitely happier now, and can see how mismatched they once were. There’s a continued shaming of divorce in America—partly due to religion, partly to the general notion that we should commit to someone for life, for better or worse—and I think it’s a straitjacket that can often destroy lives if not escaped.
I don’t pretend to imply divorce is always a better solution, nor am I saying it will be pain-free.
And yes, I think people should fight to save their marriages, and to continually work on themselves in the spirit of personal improvement. I’ve seen plenty of marriages avert what seemed like a certain death spin through therapy or improved communication. But if you’re considering it yourself, maybe—and only you can know if it’s true of your own marriage—the only way you and your kids can truly end up in a healthier place is by hitting the “eject” button.
To those who think their impending divorce might be nothing other than a tragic end to a once glorious and unstained moral track record, here’s what one of my best female friends (who was divorced a few years ago and has never been happier) always says to the recently split-up:
“Congratulations! I’m so happy for you!”
Come on in. The water’s fine.
Read more on Families and Divorce.
Image of red eject button courtesy of Shutterstock
About Mark Radcliffe
“Glorious and unstained moral track record”
I laughed out loud at this.
I think the need that is most important in life is to know where we stand. It takes constant emotional and intellectual work, and sometimes putting ego aside and admitting a change is needed is the best thing.
Mark, you cite some contradictions. First, you say, “My parents’ marriage was never hostile or abusive…” And then, you go on to describe how your father had anger problems and how both your mother and you and your brothers, had to withdraw and lose your voices, in order to not trigger your dad’s ire and reign of terror. You all, essentially, had to walk on eggshells.
If you were to study the dynamics of abuse, and read books like Lundy Bancroft’s “Why Does He Do That? Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men,” or Patricia Evans’ “The Verbally Abusive Relationship,” (I’m not recalling the exact title of her work, actually), you would learn that your parents’ relationship actually was rife with abuse. The rest of you (you mother and brothers) resultant behaviors, were typical of abuse victims. (Those who’ve experienced both physical and emotional / verbal abuse, will tell you the emotional / verbal abuse hurts worse.)
Now, your dad may have been not as bad as some on the malignant narcissism spectrum, for example, he may have been financially fair in the divorce settlement, which is a marker that he was not a full blown sadistic abuser, which may have softened the blow of the family’s and nest’s demise, but still, to not understand the markers and manipulation methods of emotional terrorists, is a form of denial, which is a form of aiding and abetting its perpetuation.
My intent is to help especially young people take the markers seriously, in order to better be able to choose a life mate for the long run, not to belittle you. Truth heals….in the long run….always.
This article describes a family life that is eerily similar to the marriage I got out of, except that I headed things off before my children got old enough to be fully aware of the dynamics. I’ll be curious to see what they think later in life looking back, as they have no real recollection of their father’s anger and control issues and have experienced that to a lesser degree due to the fact that they spend little time with him.
Also, I agree wholeheartedly with Danna that abuse need not be physical; indeed the non-physical aspects of controlling people who can’t manage their anger are perhaps more insidious because they are harder to identify on and society at large does not view them as negatively as physical abuse even though the damage it causes is extremely detrimental. Add to that a cultural component as existed in my marriage (“Spaniards are hot-headed”) and it becomes very difficult to find sympathy or feel validated. The isolation that occurs though is a marker, as you say, that things are amiss.
Divorce can indeed be a good thing… even a wonderful thing, for both parties AND any children involved.
When the household is deeply unhappy and unable to fix its problems, divorce can be a good solution.
Copyleft, then why is it an extremely common desire and fantasy for young children, that their parents get back together again (when they can be civil to each other, post divorce – a marker that neither parent has a personality disorder on the malignant narcissism spectrum) ?
If parents can’t be civil to each other, then that, in itself, can damage a child. (Part and parcel of the inability to be civil and fair is inappropriately triangulating the children in, and impinging healthy boundaries.)
Just as there are fates worse than death, there are marriages that are worse than divorce.
This is so very true. Shame and failure have no place in describing an end to a marriage that’s dysfunctional. What’s a success, then — a marriage like your parents’ that lasts forever? This is why Susan Pease Gadoua and I are writing “The New I Do: Reshaping Marriage for Cynics, Commitaphobes and Connubial DIYers,” a book that challenges our one-size-fits-all, till-death-do-we-part version of marriage and offers new models that work better for who we are today. And, that removes “failure” from the divorce discussion Please join us! https://www.facebook.com/#!/TheNewIDo
I’m glad that someone finally had the guts to say it. Or rather, it’s nice to hear from other males advocating divorce. I grew up in the Deep South where opinions on divorce were strongly polarized amongst genders. As for me, as a female who looks back when my mother divorced my father when I was turning 9 years old, I was overly ecstatic. I even thanked her, and told her that it was the best thing she ever did (which it truly was), because she needed support from me.
I know a lot of people would say “fight for one’s marriage” but to be brutally blunt, what for? Listen to YOURSELF, you know when to call it a day…