The Bleak Economic Reality of Gray Divorce

But wait! There’s more!

One of my favorite writers here on Medium wrote a piece I can relate to all too well. In her article, “I have a single sentence warning for women”, Colleen Sheehy Orme unpacks the reality of what happens when a stay-at-home-mom becomes a divorced mom.

Like Colleen, I married my best friend. We decided we wanted to be parents and agreed I would stay home to raise the littles. This was no small feat in an economy that requires two incomes.

But we did it! And I felt a little proud about it too. We were bucking the trend. Through thrift, coupon clipping, and a frugal lifestyle, we pulled it off, by golly! I prided myself on having a well-run home, something I knew I would not be able to maintain if I were working outside the home. I loved being home with my kids.

I always helped with our business and often did one-off side hustles that would bring in a little extra income. I cut my teeth as an organizer helping friends. I volunteered many hours at church, too. From painting walls to teaching, bookkeeping to music ministry…I did a lot. And I loved it.

My work was valuable. And unpaid.

I’m working for the Kingdom; I would be told. As I told myself.

Look at the bank account in heaven I’m building! Woooohoooo!

The paradigm I operated in was build God’s kingdom, not my own.

(Meaning: Don’t worry about your own financial needs. Just repeat this magical statement: God will provide.)

Further insulating this view was the belief that I would never be one of those divorced people.

My husband and I embraced our roles. He’s the bread winner, I’m the bread baker. We worked hard raising our kids. Sure, rough spots in the marriage, but ’til death do us part, babee.

And it worked until it didn’t. And not that we were ever rolling in the dough. Raising three kids on one modest income was no small feat. Today? Ha! Impossible.

When it became clear our 32-year marriage was broken beyond repair, the economic reality of my lifetime of choices came home to roost.

Working for the Kingdom doesn’t provide a 401K or even contribute to Social Security, FFS. The nerve of God!

I went from homemaker to single woman in her late fifties facing supporting herself for the first time in over 3 decades.

It got even more fun when I got the breast cancer diagnosis five weeks after the divorce was finalized.

Never in a million, zillion years could I have imagined I would find myself in this situation.

Thanks to the contributions of loving friends, I made it through the year of treatment without having to work.

I sold my modest doublewide trailer later and lived off those proceeds when the Gofundme funds were depleted.

And now those funds are depleting as well. Funny how that happens.

Only now, I am dealing with drug side effects that provide serious limitations to my quality of life. I’ve joked I need a sheltered workshop to work in. It’s been helpful to learn I have severe ADHD but it also helps me understand the genuine challenges I operate in. (It also explains why I do my best work doing project base organizing work or coaching.)

So yeah. Young women, I urge you. Keep some financial independence. Do not give all your autonomy to your husband and family. It will hamstring you later in life if you end up in the 50% divorce statistic.

And don’t forget to read Colleen’s article.

But there is another hit I want to discuss. And it perplexes the hell out of me, but here it is.

It is the “What the fuck was I thinking?” narrative. This is a nasty, condemning voice in my head that taunts me as I review my life and the choices I’ve made.

I’ve wept bitter tears over the paths not taken, the independence sacrificed.

I continue to grieve the lack of support I can offer my kids as they struggle to establish themselves. I grieve over the lack of a stable home where they can come visit for holidays.

I’ve beaten myself up over the years of naivety. You’ll never divorce! Your love is special!

And then later, I berated myself for my willingness to tolerate the intolerable. (Insert reference to affairs here.)

Admitting this perplexes the hell out of friends, as I am seen as a confident, can-do gal. It perplexes me too. (An aside, “parts therapy” has really helped me understand the many personality “parts” that comprise each individual’s pysche.)

My practical side acknowledges the steps needed to take toward financial independence. Hardly easy, but quantifiable and oh so practical.

Just earn money. Get after it! There are plenty of people rising from the ashes to build successful business! The world is your oyster!

All I need is a good cheerleading session and some old-fashioned, Adderall reinforced discipline. Maybe a kick in the butt for good measure.

If only it were that simple.

The even more hairy obstacle is this: finding faith in myself. Learning to trust in myself.

This is supposed to be the part in the hero’s journey where I return, battered and scarred (quite literally) from the perils of the past several years to FINALLY understand who I am and then rise to the greatness of my call to help people.

Hell, maybe even start a 401K to help women and then end up chatting with Oprah about my incredible resilience and fortitude.

Woooooohoooooo! Look at the happy ending!

Economic fortitude is one thing.

Emotional fortitude is another.

And after what I’ve been through, the emotional tank is depleted.

Try harder and do more isn’t working as well as when I was in my 20s. I need different tools.

So, I’m learning more about surrender and self-love. Understanding the ADHD opens up new perspectives.

And faith? Yes. This is still an important piece of who I am. On a deep level, there is an unshakable belief that all will be well, as Teresa of Avila said.

But that requires getting still to hear. Something that is oh so hard in this noisy, fear-ridden world.

There are many days were simply putting one foot in front of the other is my greatest accomplishment.

I am learning to trust myself. To reflect on the many things, I am grateful for-my kids, the wonderful friends I have, and my sweetie, Tom, who has held me through all this difficulty.

Talk about a swirl of conflicting emotions and narratives.

But I know Love keeps me and sustains me in my darkest moments. And even though I am terrified over the economical realities, I have never missed a meal and I am debt free.

My story continues to unfold. Hope sparkles appear here and there in the darkness.

Thanks to my loved ones, and especially, Tom, I will continue to plod forward.

Thanks so much for reading. You can find me around the internet at www.theresawinn.com, on Facebook, LinkedIn and Instagram. If you’d like to support my writing in a small way, feel free to contribute to my wishlist.