Doing Divorce

The Rest of the Story

The outcome seemed so wrong. Sandy was a loving mom. Bright, creative. Her nature was to nurture. She made home cooked meals. She grew a garden in the back yard of her small but tidy house. She believed the home should be peaceful but joyful and child focused. How did she lose custody of her only child---ten year old Amanda?

It’s not that George was a bad father. He was just a different type of parent. He lived in an apartment and made fast food a regular diet. He had changed roommates once again. While Amanda like to read books at her mom’s house, she was more likely to watch t.v. at her dad’s place while he was in front of his computer in the next room.

While Sandy didn’t think that George would ever abuse Amanda, she was authentically concerned about neglect. Sandy had always assumed responsibility for everything from seeing that Amanda had lunch money to registering her for soccer. She was just sure she could provide a better environment for Amanda’s day-to-day growing up.

Despite knowing the risks that custody might not be awarded to her, Sandy took the court ruling hard. 

As a divorce lawyer, few outcomes were ever tougher for me than a disappointing custody decision from the court. I spent many an anxious day and sleepless night when what mattered most in our clients’ lives was at risk.

As lawyers, intellectually we know that that we don’t make the law, create the facts, pick the judge, or determine what comes out of the mouth of a witness on the stand. But it’s still hard to not to take it personally when a client’s heart is broken by what we think is a bad decision.

A number of years after Sandy’s day in court, I received a letter from her. It was postmarked from two states away. It read much like this:

                        Dear Susan,

                        I thought you would like to hear how things turned out for

                        Amanda and me since that day we were in court and

                        everything looked so dark. 

 

                        A couple of years after Amanda went to live with her dad,

                        he was diagnosed with AIDS.  She lived with him until he

                        became too ill to care for her. He died a few months later.

 

                        Those short years Amanda and her dad had together were

                        precious for them both. While it was very difficult for me at the time,

                        I see that everything turned out the way it was meant to.

 

                        I thought you’d want to know.

                        Sandy

 

As a divorce lawyer we often don’t get to hear the end of the story for our clients. We may never learn about a future reconciliation, a happy remarriage, or the joys being experienced in a new life after divorce. We may never know the hidden blessings within a decision that looks devastating in the moment.

As you move through your divorce, have faith that the story of your life is not yet fully written. Trust that you cannot know everything the future holds for you and your children. A dark day may one day be seen as just another step in the unfolding events of what was meant to be.

Coach Koenig

As you look back on your life, can you remember a dark day that you now see was what was meant to be?

Divorce Decision

We the wise of my mother’s many children thought we knew what was best for her. The family meeting topics included our father’s chronic alcoholism, his refusal to seek treatment, and our concern for our mother.

With the passage of decades, the memories are vague. I can’t remember whether my mom wanted to see a lawyer, whether she surrendered as she did to so much of what life dealt her, or if she silently went along to simply avoid an argument.

What I do remember is her quiet sadness.

The lawyer’s office was dark in the afternoon light and his large wooden desk covered with untidy stacks of paper and opened books. He was round in the middle and looked old and serious like I thought a lawyer should. His suit appeared not quite as though he had slept in it but also not like it had felt the press of an iron that season.

I wasn’t yet in law school, but had enough in savings so that when the attorney said the fee was a hundred dollars I immediately volunteered to pay it, with a combination of pride, protection, and embarrassment. 

I don’t know what ever happened to that divorce, except that it never happened.

My parents’ marriage went on for many years more until my father’s drinking and  smoking and broken spirit ended his life, leaving my mother widowed after nearly four decades of marriage.

Mom lived for 23 years after Dad’s death. I never thought to ask her about that divorce that never happened. What I do know is that my mother was not where I was when it came to making a divorce decision.

She was fifty something with an 8^th grade education. Mom had never lived alone nor learned to drive. Her three to eleven shift at Bergan Mercy Hospital did not inspire faith she could be self-supporting. Most of all, Mom was a devout Catholic.

When I faced the divorce decision, I was living in a different time, a different place, a different world. I was thirty something with a law degree. I had experienced living alone in my cozy attic apartment as a coed at Drake University. I owned my own law firm. I had only two children whose father I knew would faithfully support them. In one form or another I had been breaking the tenets of the Catholic Church for well over a decade.

When faced with the choice of divorce, Mom’s view was through a different lens than mine. No doubt she saw her best, if not her only path, as remaining with the one man she had ever loved, the man with whom she bore eight children, the man to whom she made a solemn vow.

Neither my mother nor I ever expressed regret about our choices. Both of us went on to find love again. Both of us lived happy lives after choosing our path.

Just as my mother and I were in different worlds when we made our divorce decision, so is each person who sits across the desk from the divorce lawyer for that initial consultation.

Only you know what is right for you. Trust that you do when it comes time for your divorce decision.

Coach Koenig

Mothers

I knew since I was a young child, that I would be a mom.  Having my daughters is my greatest life intention fulfilled.  I delight in motherhood.  I love finding their random socks in my drawers, braiding their hair into pigtails and reading them stories in my best English accent.  And I, like every single parent I represented over the years, was devastated by thought of how divorce would impact their sweet smiling faces.  Parents universally feel the sting – but the focus of this blog will be on mothers in tribute to Mother’s Day this weekend.

For some mothers, divorce means they literally lose their livelihood.  I talk to women weekly who spent years and years, since the birth of their babies, attending to the children’s needs.  They have mastered running their households.  They pay the bills, buy the groceries, clean the messes, transport the children, kiss the booboos, arrange the schedules, attend the appointments, get the haircuts, purchase clothing, fill the backpacks.  They do it all.  They feel needed and valued.  They feel important.

And then divorce happens.  Their full-time job suddenly lost.  They are told that they will now have weekends and evenings without their children. They are told the skills they honed over the years will be replaced by dad.  They are told hard truths about how their role with their children will change.  Whether a stay-at-home mom or a mom with a busy career, divorced moms inevitably face abrupt and jarring changes to their mother/child relationship.

I cannot imagine that in my lifetime I will get used to the quiet hours during my “every other weekends.”  As a married parent, I am sure I silently prayed for hours of quiet on end.  Now that I regularly have solitude, it just feels empty.  It feels unnatural to me to only be around my children half of their time.  I regularly have to coach myself that those circumstances do not make me a bad mom.  I can say without hesitation that being a divorced mom is the source of the greatest heartache of my life.

That being said, being a divorced mom also made me a better mom than the one I was before the divorce.  I now have time to regularly rejuvenate myself.  I am happier and more relaxed when I am with my children.  I no longer squabble with their dad when dealing with a stressful parenting situation, because he isn’t there to squabble with.  I know that that when I am with my girls – it is 100% on me.  I feel empowered by that.  I look forward to seeing my daughters every single time I pick them up.  I maximize my time with them and I find myself more present to our moments together.

I encourage all moms of divorce, during your time away from your children, to focus on those things that made you happy before you had children.  Rediscover your creative spirit, your athletic tendencies or your appreciation of an afternoon with a good book.  Take your alone time to finally fill their baby books, to file away their school papers or hang their artwork around the house.  Redefining motherhood is necessary and will allow you to forgive yourself for divorcing.  Not only will it make the current version of motherhood okay, it will make you happier and as a result you children will be happier.  And at the end of the day, that’s what it is all about.

Angela Dunne

One of a Kind

It’s human nature to compare ourselves to others. We do it consciously or unconsciously all day long.

As we drive to work we spot the car we’d love to own; we look at the driver to see whether they are our age. Our co-worker shares how many miles they ran over the weekend; we silently consider the extra 8 pounds we’ve put on the past year.  We listen to a presentation; we think, “I would be so much better organized than this guy.”

Whether they are upward or downward comparisons, we constantly compare. When we compare and think we are better, we get a momentary boost in ego. When we compare and think we are worse, we may either feel bad about ourselves or be motivated to improve. In either case, comparing comes quickly to our thoughts.

Comparison is what the human mind does to reassure itself that our status within our group is secure. During a divorce, our insecurity can be at an all time high. We become more vulnerable to the culprit of comparison, and others are more than willing to give us fodder for the practice. 

 

 “You’re paying how much in child support? Whoa. You got screwed, buddy.”

“I can’t believe you’re not getting alimony!”

“Too bad you didn’t get any attorney fees awarded. My ex had to pay $5,000.”

“My divorce was wrapped up in just a couple of months. Yours seems to be taking forever.”

 

Here’s the thing about comparison. Whether it’s your body type, your career path, or your divorce----yours is unique to you. No two are alike.

There are dozens of factors which make each divorce like no other. Some couples had premarital debt or a prenuptial agreement. A marriage could be two years or thirty-two years long. One person may have gambled away the family savings and another may have made brilliant financial investments.

When we compare, we tend to forget that we don’t have all of the information. The facts in each divorce are unique, and most of them are known only to the parties and their lawyers. Each state has different divorce laws. Each party to a divorce has their own level of desire to reach a negotiated settlement and their own tolerance for the risks of litigation.

Comparison of your divorce to others is no more helpful that the other types of comparison we make which only serve to make us feel bad or to feed our ego.

There is a place to turn to, however, if the desire to compare still burns bright for us. We can compare how we are being and what we are doing in our divorce to our very own values and intentions. 

Instead of comparing your divorce or your life to the divorces or lives of others, compare to what matters most to you. When you do, you will be on the path to knowing your status is secure. You will be held in the highest esteem by the one person who counts, and that is you.

Coach Koenig

 Have you been tempted to compare your divorce to others?

Are you going through your divorce in a way that is in integrity for you?

Sparkle On

I say it every year - regardless of the gradual hike upward in age - I LOVE my birthday.  I love a day designed for simply celebrating your own unique existence.  This year I charged at my birthday with the same gusto as my nine-year-old daughter (who coincidentally celebrates her birthday the day after mine).  I went so far as to put the party planning techniques I have mastered for my daughters’ birthday parties to use for my own.  I hosted a Celebration of Sparkle in honor of the women in my life who contribute to my sparkle.

My intentions were threefold:  join together some of my favorite women in one room and let the fun unfold; have an event around my birthday that I would look forward to, plan for and enjoy every minute of; and, put a bunch of glitter on stuff all around my house because that would simply make me happy.  I met each intention and then some.

As I looked around at the women gathered in my living room, all dressed in their own bit of sparkle, I saw that I had formed lasting relationships with women at every stage in my life.  There were high school friends, college friends, law school friends, and friends I had picked up over the last decade-plus since becoming a professional.  And they were all still with me.  As a divorced person, we may get the thought that we don’t know how to make relationships last.  I felt affirmed looking at all of the women with me.  I was, in fact, good at lasting relationships.  My full living room proved it.  But until it was staring me in the face, I had been holding a different and damaging opinion of myself.  I realized one failed relationship does not make me a failure.

I know how hard it is to have your first birthday post-divorce.  But I now also know how fabulous and fun your second birthday post-divorce can be with a little bit of focused intention.  I urge you to consider taking one of the following actions for your birthday this year. Pick the one that matches your energy level best. 

• Throw a party:  Even if a party for 1.  Make sure that you pause to celebrate you in a way that is meaningful for your heart.  Whether it means a small dinner with a friend, a picnic in the park with you and your kids, or a long bath filled to the top with bubbles, pause and take time to honor you.  In the way that means the most to you.  Plan it, schedule it, mark the time out on your calendar.  Anticipate it and then relish it.
• Celebrate your successes:  Reflect on the last 12 months of your life.  Write down – yes, I mean physically write down, each and every accomplishment.  Write the sad parts that you got past.  Write down the things that happened that you never could have predicted that brought you joy or pain.  Write it all down.  Look at what you did in the last year.  Sit with it.  Cry about it.  Laugh about it.  Feel proud.
• Write your vision:  I urge you to think about your life a year from now.  Be brave and muster up all the courage you can and look out a year from now.  What would be the perfect thing to see?  Where do you want to be?  Get real and start thinking about the changes you would like to see, the parts you would like to improve or what absolutely must stay the same.

Most of all – I wish for you to get back to a point of celebrating your inner sparkle.  It may be buried now, but it will resurface.  I promise.  And there is no better day than your birthday to start looking for it.

Angela Dunne

 In what ways do you most like to celebrate?

Security

We think we are safe. We think our children are safe. We think our country is safe.

Until we hear that an all-American city celebrating a great tradition in broad daylight on Patriots Day is bombed. Until we hear that an 8 year old was murdered by the explosion.

And then we are reminded of the fragility of security.

Tens of thousands slaughtered in Syria sounds far away. But Boston? No, Boston feels like our backyard.

Boston is where I arrived at the age of 22. My greatest insecurity was how a working class girl from South Omaha would fit in with the east coast intellectuals who would be my law school classmates.

It’s where I learned to drink coffee and stayed up until the wee hours of the morning writing memoranda based on the Constitution whose roots were buried in this very town. It was in Boston that my passion for fighting injustice blossomed and where three decades later I would watch my son graduate from Harvard Law School.

When we bear witness to the devastating shatter of the security of others who feel near, our own security is threatened. Someone else suffered the loss, but we cannot sleep at night. Our children are tucked safely in their beds, but we are compelled to open the nursery door to look again, merely for our own comfort. We check the locks on the door one more time, just to be sure.

We feel anxious, vigilant. We are on guard and irrational with our imagined scenarios.

Security affords us the luxury of feeling safe. Of living in the belief that there is no danger. That all is well.

The truth is, risk is ever present. We don’t know when, or if, or how we will fall victim. It is this uncertainty that keeps us up at night. How do we live with unpredictability? How do we find peace of mind when we feel so vulnerable?

We breathe. We focus on what matters most in this moment. We give thanks.

We breathe because it may be the only thing we are capable of when facing such terror. We breathe because it helps our body which suffers from the rushes of cortisol. We breathe because it keeps us in the present and away from the future we fear and cannot control.

We focus on what matters most to us in this moment. Taking care of ourselves. Taking care of those we love. Surrendering tomorrow.

We give thanks. For the caring that we find amidst atrocities. For the heroes who rise up. For our capacity to comfort others in a time of sorrow. For the hope that sees us through the day.

Breathe. Focus. Thank. Repeat. We cannot protect ourselves from the countless uncertainties of life or predict the future. We may not know what to do. But as long as we are among those blessed to be alive, we can do these.

Coach Koenig

Seasonal Swings

This week, Nebraska weather is wrecking havoc on our gardens, our spring soccer, and most notably, our moods.  Our weather forecast shows a 30 degree swing from snow to sunshine in the span of 3 days and it makes us crazy.  Casual conversations in elevators or status updates on Facebook daily include mention of the weather.  Mostly people are aching for spring.  We are “supposed” to be having warmer weather, no more snow, and plenty of balmy sunshine.  Instead, every week there has been a little bit of snow cover and chilly days.

It makes us crabby because we like the supposed predictability of the seasons.  We like being able to count on the consistency and when the seasons do not arrive in a neat package like we expect, we get bent out of shape.  We like knowing that winter will be over, that spring will come and then give birth to summer only to fall into autumn again and so forth.  We make our plans around the seasons. We have season-specific delights each year.  We look forward to and detest, all at the same time, little bits of every season.

As human beings we crave the routine of our seasons, just as much as we crave the sunshine peeking out from behind the rainclouds.  When going through divorce, or any season of grief, we often think it is or should be a straight, predictable line.  We have thoughts that we “should be” feeling one way or the other.  Friends and confidants may indirectly fuel these thoughts with their well-intentioned “you should be” statements.

But then one day, far removed from the “should be” feeling line you have a really great day or you have a day where you find yourself tear-filled and sad about the change in your personal season, with no warning and with the predictability – yes, of the change in weather.  Then we feel guilty or stupid.  Why am I feeling happy in the middle of a divorce?  Why do I feel sad about the ending of this relationship months after it is over?  And it is as useful as explaining snow in April.  It just happens that way.

I have learned from my own grappling with grief, and also in supporting clients over the years going through it – that there is no “right” way.  That with every person and every situation, grief presents differently.  And just like we know the weather cannot actually be relied upon and yet we still insist that it must be a certain temperature in April, we carry the same insistence that we grieve the right way.  We become crabby and confused when it doesn’t pan out the way we expected.  I find it useful to have a better understanding of why I feel put out when things do not go as expected.  I appreciate seeing that some things will just be random – much like tears and raindrops.

Angela Dunne

Friends

The romance concierge carefully arranged the large heart of rose petals on the linen covered table for two. The night before the young couple spoke their solemn vows on the beach and danced under the stars and moon of Mexico.

It was an elegant resort with uniformed staff and marble columns at every turn. For a week I spent afternoons poolside. I watched couples take turns putting suntan lotion on the shoulders and backs of one another. At sunset, the view of the ocean filled with couples sauntering in the sand, hand in hand.

I remember my honeymoon in Mexico. I remember a husband who was my perfect travel companion. I remember and sigh.

This trip was not the same. I was no longer a part of a couple. This was one of those countless occasions people once experienced as a married person and then re-experience through a new lens when unmarried.

One might think that the luxury of catching a plane for the beach on a day while a late March snow falls on my hometown would be enough to make my spirit soar with appreciation and anticipation. But I know how quickly my thoughts can rob me of even the most wonderful moments in life.

Too often in the past I was in beautiful places with beautiful people and I managed to make myself perfectly miserable. The time at the dance I sat grimly in the corner because I didn’t have a partner. The time I brooded silently at the party rather than risk a conversation with a stranger. Too many wasted moments for any lifetime.

Comparison is so alluring. Pondering the past comes perpetually. Wishing for a different future seems impossible to avoid.

This trip was an opportunity to set aside my most closely held beliefs about how things “should” be. This time was a test of my intentions. To be appreciative. To relax. To be a good friend. Luckily for me, I wasn’t doing it alone. Three dear friends of thirty years reminded me of the power of letting others in as you learn a different way to experience something you had only known as a married person.

My friends were fun, funny, and more. Their tiny kind acts delighted me. Their relentless generosity awed me. Their ceaseless support made everything feel easy. Their casual acknowledgments were golden.

Despite knowing these women since our now grown children were babies, I learned things about them I never knew. I had so much fun working out I lost body fat despite days of indulgences. I laughed so hard I could barely breathe.

When going through divorce, there is a never ending parade of experiences that look different than they did when we were married. For some of those we will be grateful. For others we will grieve. Either way, as you go through divorce, everything is easier with a little help from your friends. 

Coach Koenig

Are you willing to let a friend support you during this time of your life?

Being Real

It finally happened.  A couple of days after Christmas my Anna caught on.  While sitting in her bed with tears in her eyes, she asked me the question parents dread, “Santa isn’t real, is he?”  I took a deep breath and replied “No, he isn’t.”  And just like that, the magic disappeared. 

I am writing about it now, just days before Easter, because this will be the first Easter that my eldest daughter will no longer believe that the Easter Bunny came in the night and hid brightly colored eggs in the yard and left sweet treats in her Easter basket.  As I look back at this picture of my sweet little girl from Easter 7 years ago, my heart is aching.

When Anna and I had that talk ago tucked in her bed on a wintery night, it marked for me one of the courageous conversations we must have in life.  I was direct, honest, and compassionate as I dismantled the magic of childhood beliefs for my daughter.  Anna, in all of her eight years of wisdom, said to me as I was leaving her room, “Thank you for being honest with me Mom.  I am glad I wasn’t alone when I found out.”  I went downstairs and wept.

I was reminded in that moment of the basic needs we all have in moments of growth.  We want the truth.  We do not want to be alone.  We need to be surrounded by compassion while letting go.  When divorce happens, the magic of marriage disappears.  Much like learning that Santa does not exist, we taste the bitterness of our beliefs disappearing, grieve lost dreams, and wish with all our might that we could go back to the time before facing this new reality.

Anna continued to be my teacher last night as she winked at me over her little sister’s head while excitedly talking to Sophia about the Easter Bunny coming.  She reminded me that after every disappointment we face - we heal.  We move on.  We find acceptance.  And we surely find new delights in our growth over time. 

Angela Dunne

 What lessons have you learned from your disappointments? 

56 Up - A Review

Imagine your life captured on film for half a century. Imagine that since the age of 7, someone collected your thoughts about life. Imagine that your hopes and dreams, your successes and disappointments, were all recorded and then seen by thousands of people around the world.

Participants in the documentary 56 Up lived this experience. In 1964, filmmaker Michael Apted interviewed 14 English children ranging from the boarding school boy who dreamed of entering politics to the little one raised in a children’s home. He continued to interview them every seven years. 

Their innocent faces as young children were precious. Charming, full of hope. Surely one of them would be spared.  But it was not to be. Each was flung into the fury of life.  Marriage, babies, infidelity, divorce. Graduations, promotions, layoffs, homelessness.

Some were abandoned when they were tiny tots, some when they were in love. Some acquired wealth only to see it evaporate. Some never found a career. Others lost theirs when the economy turned. 

No matter their start in life, none was spared.  All suffered heartbreak for some reason, for some season.

Watching these ordinary people of extraordinary courage simply carry on with their lives despite the inevitable setbacks was a testament to the human capacity for resilience and perseverance. At the end of the day, each of them carried on bravely.  Their choice to shun regret and to move forward with their lives was a lesson we all could take to heart, even when our setback is divorce.

How they chose to persevere best, I think, was in their decision to love again.

Universal in their decades of experience was the happiness in life found by the relentless choice to keep loving: The boy who grew up without a father who became a dedicated foster parent; The single mom who grew close to her children’s grandmother with cancer; The man who never married who ministered to his fellow church members; The disabled librarian who fell in love with her preemie grandchild.

Divorce can break our heart. May perseverance in loving be a balm for healing yours.

Coach Koenig