How to Talk About Your Divorce—and When Not To

Stevie McFadden refers to her divorce as “a divorce with a capital ‘D.’” “Our marriage fell apart abruptly and unexpectedly,” she explains. “Did I perhaps contribute to that? Of course I did. Nobody’s blameless.” But one of the many things that frustrates McFadden is that she wasn’t able to participate in the unwinding of her marriage. That’s something her ex-husband took from her. “I eventually realized that the power that I did have was in the narrative I told myself and others.” 

McFadden’s not alone. When the chaos of divorce makes everything feel out of control, many women find a sense of agency in telling their story. Or, in the case of poet and author Maggie Smith, writing a book about it. Smith is adamant that her divorce memoir, You Could Make This Place Beautiful, is not a “tell all.” “If you’re speaking for yourself, which is really all you can responsibly do, you don’t have access to the whole story,” she explains. “Keeping it narrow felt not only like the most doable option, but also the most ethical option.”

Like Smith, McFadden felt that some parts of her divorce narrative were off limits—at least temporarily. She had to remind herself that her divorce and marriage were two different things. “My ex-husband made some really horrific choices, but his choices are not who he always was,” explains McFadden, who admits that anger is a much safer emotion for her than grief. “I created this mental image for myself. Every time I’d have a kind thought or a good memory, I imagined putting it in a box that I kept up high on a shelf. I told myself, ‘I will get this down when I’m ready, when it won’t be contaminated with my anger.’”

While U.S. divorce rates are notoriously hard to calculate, the latest data says about 43% of first marriages end in divorce. Still, many women feel alone during this transition. That’s why Oona Metz, a Boston-based psychotherapist who went through her own divorce 15 years ago, runs divorce support groups for women. Metz likes to remind clients that every divorce narrative contains two story arcs. “There’s the legal arc, the dissolution of the marriage contract, and the emotional arc, the fallout from dealing with that dissolution,” she explains. “Sometimes, those two story arcs line up really nicely, because the legal process drags on for such a long time that people are emotionally okay by the time the divorce is official.” That’s not always the case, but either way, it helps to deal with one story at a time.

The vocabulary of divorce is evolving, too, albeit slowly. Heidi Webb, an attorney who created the Consilium Process, a new approach to family law, takes some of her cues from business. “We talk about businesses reorganizing through bankruptcy,” she explains. “Why can’t we talk about families restructuring through divorce?” This is especially important, says Webb, when children are involved. “At the end of a divorce case, the marriage is over, but the family goes on.”

Divorce is ultimately as much about beginnings as it is about endings. Smith, for instance, has written that the best things to happen to her individually were the worst things to happen to her marriage. Webb’s work focuses on helping couples—and the courts—understand this possibility. She often explains that the word “divorce” comes from the Latin “diverte,” meaning to separate or turn away, while “restructure” comes from “structura,” meaning to fit together or build. “That’s really what you’re doing when you divorce,” Webb explains. “You’re creating something new.”