I’m a Divorce Columnist I Rarely Hear People Say One Thing

People ask for my advice. I’ve written about love, relationships, and divorce for many years. I became a divorce columnist on Beliefnet more than a decade ago.

Older people tend to ask for specific advice.

Younger people tend to ask for overarching advice.

I’ve had several younger people seek me out recently. I realize the difference in their inquisitive nature. They don’t feel as if they know it all. They’re still seeking.

They’re still making their way through love, life and relationships.

They’re hoping this ‘elder’ has wisdom.

Instead of commiserating over shared experiences (as many of us do as we age) they want guidance. They want to ensure a better future for themselves.

As the phrase, “Sometimes kids are smarter than us,” illustrates…

Quite simply, they are.

“Do you think I can start over at my age?” asks one of them. “Do you think I can be happy again?”

“Of course,” I say. “You are young. You are smart, you are kind, you are a good person, you are successful, and you are good-looking. You are smarter than most. You are getting out of a bad situation. You will absolutely be happy again.”

My heart tugs.

I feel the pain.

Age isn’t a barometer for divorce.

The sting of failed love is haunting. It’s not discriminatory. It’s ignited. It’s fire. It burns. It hurts. It’s complicated. It’s complex. It’s unwanted.

I find it even harder to watch young people suffer through it.

I was older when I divorced.

I was no longer a young adult.

I was an adult.

It’s not child’s play. It’s brutal. It’s too many things to list rolled into one. It’s reconciling what was once promised, once hoped for, what’s now grieved for, and what is a redirection neither person was necessarily looking for.

“You will be okay,” I tell this young person.

I am not offering direction.

That is not my role.

When people reach out to me, I tell them the same thing, “I’m sorry that you are experiencing this. I am not a counselor. I am a journalist. If you believe you need help you should seek the counsel of a good therapist and lawyer. And the support of family and friends.”

In other words, I won’t tell an individual if they should leave their spouse.

I do not know them.

It’s not my place.

I will answer their questions, and offer pragmatic advice.

I will explain the mechanics of divorce, financial abuse, etc. It’s up to each individual, the people who know, who love them best, and their support network to proffer personal guidance and action.

At the end of this meeting, I can feel the angst.

This marriage is over and it’s not because of this individual. No matter what they do, their spouse has made the message clear. It allows me to say something more direct.

It’s something I wouldn’t typically say.

“Look,” I say. “I know you’re heartbroken. I know you don’t want this. I know you’re scared. I know you’re apprehensive of the future. I don’t want to tell you what to do. But it looks like that decision has already been made for you. What I will tell you is I’ve written about relationships and divorce for more than a decade. People seek me out, they talk to me, and in all of those years, there’s one thing I’ve rarely heard.”

“What’s that?”

“In all of the years that I have written about divorce,” I say. “I may hear people say they didn’t want to get divorced. I may hear them say it was horrible to go through it. I may hear them say it took a long time to get over it. I may hear them say their spouse devastated them. I may hear them say it was stressful. I may hear them say their spouse appeared to turn into a different person. I may hear them say their financial situation is desperately different. I may hear them say the process was unfair.”

“Okay, but what have they rarely said?”

“Despite all of that,” I say. “They rarely say they regret getting divorced. There is a peace, albeit sometimes unwanted (aka, the person who never wanted the divorce) that makes life happier. Even if it takes a while to arrive there. This is why I know you will be okay.”

We finished our coffee and parted ways.

I still don’t want to offer too much advice to younger people.

There’s something about it that makes me cautious.

They absorb things.

It’s the glorious part of youth.

I don’t want to be responsible for their direction. That’s their path. That’s their journey. No one should get in their way.

But if the situation calls for it, and divorce is their direction regardless of me. I will offer them what I know. I will offer them peace. I will empathize with their pain.

I will offer them hope.

Because there is always hope.

Especially when we are still young, AND love is involved.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.