I loved my husband beyond reason. So much so that somewhere along the way, I completely forgot to love myself. And you’re probably going to laugh—but I still love him. Not the man he became, but the one I believed he was. I love the strength of the love I once felt. Strangely enough, the further away he is, the more tender that love feels—almost like a ghost I still speak to.

But here’s the odd twist: I left him because of love.
The love I had forgotten—for myself.

It took years (and a divorce) to realize one of life’s most basic truths: you must love yourself first. I wish I had truly embraced that before walking down the aisle. I thought love was enough. I thought choosing the right dress meant I had chosen the right partner. But what I didn’t know then is that love alone won’t hold a marriage together. You also need respect, shared values, honest communication, and yes, a bit of magic.

Now I know all of that—but it came at a cost.

Here’s another truth nobody tells you when you’re glowing with newlywed joy: the pain of a divorce is directly proportional to the depth of the love you once had. If you loved each other madly, the separation will rip you open.

Adapting to the new concept of “family”—just you and your child—will feel foreign at first. You’ll have to recalibrate everything: your routines, finances, thoughts, fears, friendships (that’s a whole other story), your home, your future. You’ll catch yourself ticking the “married” box on forms and then crossing it out, asking for a new copy where you can check “divorced.” It’ll sting. And sometimes, it will feel like the world around you is quietly turning away, unsure how to engage with the new version of you.

Then comes the bureaucracy. Endless forms, permissions, consents—because suddenly, his signature or opinion is required in a thousand places, despite the fact that you are the one showing up every single day.

Obviously, you will never divorce, but be prepared, though. Statistics do not look well. More than half of my daughter’s classmates come from divorced homes. I read dozens of articles about how marriage is outdated, how love is evolving, and how co-parenting is the new normal. You’ll nod in agreement and shake your head in disbelief, all at once. It looks like the future is one big, messy world.

And yet… marriage changes you. Even when you try to hold onto yourself, you will make compromises. If you think otherwise, you urgently need a reality check. He will change. You will change. But here’s the kicker: he won’t change you, and you won’t change him—not unless it comes from within. If your foundation was just physical attraction, the cracks were probably there from the start.

Divorce is a kind of death. It’s a trauma. A wound that heals slower than anyone tells you. And if there are children, it’s not just your pain—it’s theirs too. You’ll be tethered to your ex for life, whether you like it or not. And while you might not want each other back, the sight of his new partner might still sting. Just like your happiness might gnaw at him quietly from a distance.

If your relationship is cracking, don’t assume time will fix it. It won’t. Fight for it, if it’s still worth the fight. Because if you do reach the end, divorce will demand your time, your money, your sanity. You’ll trade tears for paperwork, and pride for silence. It’s not pretty.

But here’s the good news:
You won’t die.
In fact—you might just be reborn.

You’ll build a new life. A different life. One that might surprise you with its peace, clarity, and unexpected joys. And you’ll look in the mirror one day and recognize yourself again.
Perhaps for the first time.