when my forty-something friend spontaneously booked a trip to mexico, leaving her husband to care for their two young children for a week, all of us ladies cheered her on. but our guy friend – let’s call him frank — could only smirk. “she’s giving everyone the big middle finger, man” he said, shaking his head. “this is what happens when a girl hits 40 – her husband doesn’t know it yet, but this is ‘her’ time. next comes the rage.”
we all laughed, but he was right. we had all seen it coming. our friend had left her job as a graphic designer years ago to take care of her kids while her husband built his career. she was an artist at heart, but he refused to acknowledge her passion, preferring instead to send her random corporate job postings for “when she was ready to make some money.” the trip was billed as some well-deserved me-time, but it was actually the beginning of the end of her marriage.
filing for divorce was a big deal —and especially anxiety-provoking for someone without a job or a credit card that wasn’t tied to her husband. still, the moment came for her when the fear of staying in the unhappiness had become greater than the fear of leaving.
“you need a good partner for this part of the ride,” she said after she told me about the divorce. she also shared that her parents shamed her for “breaking up her family” and how stressful it was to divvy up money and assets, realizing she was going to be starting over again in so many ways. and, perhaps worst of all, her doctor offered hormone replacement meds and suggested she “wait it out.”