My ex-husband and I are divorced, but we’re still a family. At first, the idea of a “divorced family” seemed impossible, but it’s the way we’ve chosen to live after our separation. We were married for 11 years and have two wonderful children. When we split up, they were only three and five. The thought of shattering their safe, happy little world broke my heart. I cried about it more times than I can count, even in the middle of grocery stores.
The truth is, our divorce wasn’t caused by something counseling or more date nights could fix. At 37, I realized I was gay. It wasn’t a phase, or something I could just push away, it was simply who I was. This truth was as unchangeable as my eye color.
When I met my husband at 23, he had everything I wanted in a partner: he was smart, kind, funny, successful, and shared my values. We fell in love quickly, got engaged a year and a half later, and our wedding day remains one of the happiest days of my life. I married my best friend, surrounded by people we loved. I had no doubts ,not that day, and not for years afterward.
Our marriage was full of good moments. We built careers, traveled, and grew as individuals. The births of our children brought us even closer, and I truly believed nothing could shake our bond. That’s why my realization about my sexuality was so terrifying. It sat in my stomach like a heavy stone for months. This wasn’t just my life ,it was his life, our kids’ lives, our family’s life. I wished desperately that it would disappear, that it was just a passing thought, that I could go back to not knowing.
But deep down, I knew. Alongside that knowledge came guilt and shame. How could I not have known earlier? How could I explain this to my husband, to my kids, to the world? Growing up in suburban Atlanta in the 80s and 90s, being gay wasn’t seen as acceptable. It was often treated as dangerous or shameful. The HIV/AIDS crisis, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” the way Ellen lost her career after coming out, the murder of Matthew Shepard ,all of these shaped my understanding of what it meant to be gay. It meant being different, rejected, and sometimes even unsafe.
I buried my own truth for years. I used alcohol to numb the disconnect I felt, to get through intimacy, to avoid thinking about what was wrong inside me. I wore a mask so well that even I believed it. Coming out later in life brought its own challenges. It felt like admitting I’d been living a lie, and I worried people would think I had tricked them. Undoing that internalized shame took time, patience, and a lot of tears.
But one thing became clear: I couldn’t keep living for other people’s comfort. We’re often taught to put others’ feelings ahead of our own, and that can be a good rule. But when it means silencing your true self, it becomes harmful. My kids didn’t need a mother who was pretending. They needed one who was whole, present, and authentic. They deserved two happy parents, even if we weren’t married anymore.
When I finally accepted that divorce didn’t mean destroying our family, I started to breathe easier. I realized we could create our own version of family life. My ex and I talked about how we wanted things to look for our kids. He wouldn’t just see them every other weekend, we would both remain fully present. And even though we were no longer together, we could still spend time as a unit.
That’s what we’ve done. We eat dinners together. We go to soccer games and parent-teacher conferences together. We celebrate birthdays and holidays together. We even dress up in matching Halloween costumes as a family. We’ve also traveled together most recently to Disney Worl ,with his girlfriend, her ex-husband, and their child. That’s our “party of seven.” It may not look traditional, but it works beautifully for us.
I love my ex-husband deeply, just in a different way now. I’m happy he has someone new, and I’m grateful for the friendship we’ve preserved. He deserved more than I could give him, and I deserve to live as my authentic self. Our kids see two parents who are happy, present, and supportive. They won’t remember every detail of their childhood, but they will remember the love and laughter. We are proof that divorce doesn’t have to break a family apart. With compromise, respect, and love, it can simply reshape it.
