I swing open the door of the local coffee shop. I cross the threshold and spy two friends. I stop and chat with them for a moment. They are aware of my marital struggles. What can I say? The writer in me has for lack of a better term always made my life an open book.

These are two of the kindest women I know. They are warm and uplifting.

“Don’t worry,” they tell me. “You can be a part of our club.”

I thank them, order my coffee and head out for the day.

This was five years ago.

What I didn’t tell them that day was what I was really thinking. I didn’t want to be a part of their club. I wanted to stay married. I did not want to be divorced. No, it’s not because of divorce snobbery. My mom was a single parent and I could not have been prouder of her. I just did not want this to be our love story, our family’s less than fairytale ending.

Divorce is not for the faint of heart. It involves ugly stuff like tears and fear.

It is heartbreaking, stressful, lonely, and unpredictable. It is meltdowns, weight gain, weight loss, sleepless and panicked. In addition, in many cases it is spouses behaving badly and games that involve fat cats playing with a mouse.

Some of the kindest, most caring and loving individuals I know have endured this frightening and painful journey.

I’ll be honest. I didn’t think I was brave enough or strong enough or resilient enough for divorce. It’s a small part of what kept me there for so long.

This morning I cross the threshold of the coffee shop and I spy one of the women.

She is brave, strong and resilient. I am so proud to be a part of her club.


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