Why I Don’t Lead With My Divorce Story (And Why That Matters More Than You Think)

Photo Credit: Ismail Yazıcı via Pexels

“Your past is a place to learn from, not a place to live in.” – Unknown

People occasionally ask why I don’t talk much about my divorce story.

And honestly, with two divorces under my belt, my first thought is usually something along the lines of, “Hmm… which one should I choose?”

Or, depending on the day, “Oh dear… so many options.”

There’s a bit of humour in that, and I let it sit there sometimes because it lightens the conversation. But the truth behind it is a little more intentional than most people expect.

Every now and then, someone assumes I started doing this work because I got divorced again. Which is always a bit of an awkward moment, considering my husband, Frank, is very much still in the picture. We even joke that as long as there are high shelves in the house, he’s safe.

So no… I don’t avoid talking about my divorce because I’m hiding it, nor is it about privacy as many might assume. It’s about what I’ve seen — both in my own experience and in the lives of the people I’ve spoken to since.

But trust me when I tell you — Been there. Done that. Bought TWO very expensive t-shirts.

What Caught Me Off Guard

When I was going through divorce myself, I thought I knew what the hard parts would be.

I expected the paperwork to feel overwhelming. I assumed the decisions would weigh heavily. I braced myself for the logistics, the back-and-forth, the practical side of untangling a life.

But that wasn’t what caught me off guard.

What I didn’t expect was how much of it would happen internally.

The way my thoughts would loop endlessly, trying to make sense of everything. The emotional swings that seemed to come out of nowhere. The moments where I would react in ways that didn’t even feel like me, and then sit there wondering why I couldn’t just get a grip.

And when I started opening up conversations with others who were going through divorce, I noticed something… It wasn’t just me.

The Pattern I Couldn’t Ignore

Over time, I started to see a pattern in the way people talked about their divorces.

So much of the conversation stayed anchored in the past (circling around what happened, who did what, who hurt who, and who had it worse).

And don’t get me wrong, those conversations do matter. But there’s a place for them. There are spaces where people need to process what they’ve been through, to unpack the pain, and to make sense of their experience.

That work is very real, and very important.

But what I kept noticing (again and again) was what happened when people stayed there too long.

They didn’t move forward.

They stayed in the story, replaying it, trying to resolve something that no longer had a resolution to give. It became less about understanding and more about being stuck in a loop that kept pulling them backwards.

And that’s the part that shifted something for me.

Where My Work Lives

At some point, I realized that my focus wasn’t on helping people explain their past, but to help them build what comes next.

Not because the past doesn’t matter, but because at some point, it stops being the thing that moves you forward.

What I care about is what happens while the dust is still being kicked up, or when the noise quiets down just enough for you to hear your own thoughts again.

What happens when you start asking yourself, “Okay… now what?”

That’s where my work lives.

It’s in the space where you realize that your legs still feel wobbly, but you know that you’re ready to begin to steady yourself. Where your thinking starts to clear. Where you slowly start to desire no longer living inside what happened and want to start reconnecting with who you are outside of it.

Because if that shift doesn’t happen, you don’t actually turn the page.

You just keep rereading the same chapter, hoping it’ll feel different the next time.

The Butterfly Moment

I sometimes describe this phase as your “butterfly moment,” although I’ll be the first to say it’s not as soft and pretty as it sounds.

The process of getting out of the cocoon is uncomfortable. It takes effort. It can feel awkward and frustrating and, at times, like you’re making no progress at all.

But here’s the difference… You’re not a butterfly.

A butterfly’s colours are predetermined. Yours are not. You actually get to decide what your wings get to look like.

You get to choose what you carry forward and what you leave behind. You get to redefine what your life feels like, what your relationships look like, and how you show up moving forward.

And that is a powerful kind of choice.

What This Space Is (And Isn’t)

There are incredible professionals out there doing deep trauma work. There are experts who guide people through the legal and financial sides of divorce. Those spaces are necessary, and they serve an important purpose.

But that’s not what I do. (I will still touch on some of those areas so that there are relatable examples to apply to this new chapter of yours.)

But what I’ve created here is something a little different.

This is the in-between space. The part that doesn’t always get clearly defined, but is often the hardest to navigate on your own.

It’s the day-to-day reality of figuring out how to function again. How to rebuild your sense of self. How to move forward in a way that actually feels grounded and real, not forced or performative.

It’s not about pretending everything is fine. (AKA “Pinterest Perfect”)

And it’s not about staying in the pain forever either.

It’s about learning how to live beyond it.

I don’t avoid my story.

I just don’t centre it.

Because healing isn’t about pretending it didn’t happen. But it’s also not about living there for the rest of your life.

At some point, there’s a quieter, more powerful question that shows up:

Am I staying in this chapter… or am I ready to turn the page?

And that’s the work I care about most.

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