Do I regret my divorce?
Ultimately, the answer is no. But it wouldn’t be honest to say I never experience moments of regret, remorse, or second-guessing. Every so often, a photo or video memory pops up on my phone; snapshots of genuinely good times, moments that I’ll always cherish. When I see them, I remember being happy in that life. It’s hard to accept that the hopes and dreams I had for that union will never come to fruition.
No marriage is all bad or all good. I stayed for the good, until I realized that the good wasn’t enough to outweigh the rest.
One of the hardest truths I had to admit was that our values were fundamentally unaligned and that misalignment was slowly damaging me. It was exhausting and depleting. Sometimes I still struggle to reconcile it all. How could I have been so blinded by love and commitment that I lost my voice? Why did it take me so long to speak up for myself?
Those are the regrets that linger. That I should have said something sooner. Asked for more. Tried harder to be heard.
That’s what those old pictures do; they confuse me. They make me wonder if healthy dialogue was ever within reach. I see two people smiling, raising their children, exploring the world together and I wonder why those two people, who loved each other so deeply, couldn’t figure it out.
But I don’t have pictures of the arguments. Or videos of the disrespect. I don’t have a slideshow of the manipulation or the verbal blows. What I do have are saved text messages and emails that remind me of the patterns of verbal and emotional abuse I endured.
Google doesn’t send those to me in my daily memories. Thankfully.
There’s a sharp contrast between those smiling faces and the reality behind the scenes. It breaks my heart, reminds me of what I was running from, and why I don’t regret finally taking action.
Still, I hold space for the moments we tried. I remember one year we went on a cruise, and I brought along a book—Nonviolent Communication. I’d picked it out because conflict between us would often spiral into cruelty. He had a tendency to say intentionally hurtful things when we disagreed, and I kept holding out hope that we could find a better way to communicate.
So during that trip, we created our own little book club. We’d read together, reflect, and talk about what we were learning. We both committed to trying, to using the tools in the book to build a more respectful, compassionate way of communicating. And for a while, we did. But it wasn’t perfect. He often reverted to insults when upset, and I didn’t always remember to use the “I” statements we’d practiced. He’d call me out on that and honestly, I didn’t mind. It made me feel like the lessons were sticking. It kept me accountable and reminded me to be mindful of my words.
But somewhere along the way, something shifted. After being “called out” so many times while just trying to be heard, I lost my confidence. I started rehearsing what I wanted to say over and over in my mind, and more often than not, I would say nothing at all. I didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing or worse, being insulted again. So I became careful, too careful, and began to filter my truth into silence.
That part still hurts.
And yet… I’m proud of myself for suggesting that book, for reading it, for trying. I carried those tools with me. They didn’t go to waste. I use them now in friendships, in work relationships, in the way I parent, and most importantly, in the way I talk to myself.
So no, I don’t regret my divorce. But I do have regrets. I regret staying silent for too long. I regret putting my own needs on the back burner. I regret ignoring the warning signs.
But I’m learning and those lessons are shaping how I show up now in friendships, in family relationships, at work. Because the same tendencies that kept me stuck in my marriage, the over-functioning, the over-accepting, the self-abandoning, were showing up everywhere in my life.
I’m not blameless in the demise of my marriage. That truth matters. Taking accountability is part of my healing. Identifying my flaws and growth opportunities is how I’m building the next version of myself. I’m already making strides.
I don’t know what love will look like for me in the future, I do know this:
If there’s a next time, I’ll bring all of me. My voice, my values, and my wholeness. Because I’m finally learning that the love I deserve isn’t the kind I have to beg or bend for. It’s the kind I’m learning to give myself first.
Affirmations
I honor my voice and trust that it deserves to be heard.
My past does not define me; it refines me.
I am learning, growing, and healing in my own time.
I let go of regrets and hold on to what I’ve learned.
I am worthy of love that nurtures, protects, and uplifts me.
Journal prompts
What is one regret I can transform into a lesson today?
When have I silenced myself out of fear? What did that cost me?
How can I show up more fully and honestly in my current relationships?
What does a safe and respectful relationship look and feel like to me?
What does it mean to love myself in the way I’ve always wanted to be loved?
