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Community Talk makes it easy for you to find relevant, informative articles from First Wives World's leading contributors, all in one place. All content is hand picked by First Wives World and covers a wide range of topics important to you.


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Many of my friends think that I'm a funny person. They laugh at my jokes (even when I don't know I've told one) and if asked, most people would tell you I'm fun to hang out with. I suppose I have always been able to see the humor in everyday situations. Overall, I think friends and acquaintances would describe me as entertaining. Little do they know that on the inside, I am unbearably depressed on most days, and it takes all of my resources to try to escape the sadness. I usually fail. When faced with divorce, I tried even harder to escape the pain, only to find out that there is no escape.
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Wednesday, 07 August 2013 19:32
My ex-husband did a lot of little irritating things when we were married. He clinked his spoon loudly when eating yogurt, and whistled, much to my chagrin, when working in the room next door. He was miserly with money, and I didn't care for his choice of friends. But overall, we didn't argue often, and even if we bickered, I was rarely truly angry. At the most I would feel disappointed, annoyed, or sad. From time to time I felt mad, but I managed to keep my hostile thoughts to a minimum. Nothing prepared me for the fury I would feel when we began the process of divorce.
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Tuesday, 06 August 2013 15:51
When I first heard me ex-husband say the D word, I wanted to disappear. I imagined taking flight from my anguished body and leaving him, myself, and the whole world behind while I soared unnoticed between treetops overhead. Every time he pronounced that horrible word, DIVORCE, I pictured myself air-borne, weightless, and invisible. If I were invisible, he wouldn’t be able to divorce me. But gradually, I had to come back down from my lofted position in the imaginary sky. I couldn’t hide, or disappear, or magically become invisible to the world. I would have to live in it, and face the stark unavoidable reality that he wanted to leave. And everyone would know, and they would all have to see me suffer. I couldn’t take refuge in autonomy, because we did not live in New York City or Los Angeles. We lived in a town of a thousand people, and there was nowhere for me to hide.
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Thursday, 01 August 2013 16:42
My ex-husband and I were married for eight years, and lived together for seven of them. I know that doesn’t seem like a long time compared to couples who have weathered the trials and joys of twenty years or more. My own grandparents were married for over forty, until death closed a heavy coffin door on their marriage, leaving my grandmother alone and confused about how that could be possible. For forty years she had woken up at six to make his breakfast. She sat across from him every night at dinner, and fell asleep to the sound of his gentle snoring. When he got sick, she made a habit of checking and double checking that he took every pill, drank enough water, and didn’t exhaust himself. They hadn’t spend more than a night apart since he had returned from war all those years ago. Then, one day, he was gone. 
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Thursday, 25 July 2013 21:04
I know a farmer and his wife, and they are a perfect couple. Well, maybe not perfect, but close. At least to me, they seem to have everything. They have a beautiful house and two adorable children, and they are always smiling. Sophie, a wife and mother of two, is a beautiful woman who radiates warmth and happiness. When she was a bride, she wore a wreath of flowers, and the wedding ceremony took place under an old oak tree the groom’s father had planted as a boy. I envision them on their wedding day, though I hadn’t yet met them and so I wasn’t there. Still, I can see them. They were youthful and in love, and  brimming with the sense of possibility. They had their whole life together ahead of them, and it would be such a wonderful life. They would wake up each morning with the sun, and sleep peacefully at night in their cozy home, nestled deep in the rolling green hills of the Hudson Valley. I envied them.
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Wednesday, 24 July 2013 20:02
When my husband and I ended our marriage last summer, we did not have much money. We had been living off of a meagre income for a while, and so of course we had only one car between us. After the split, he moved a short drive away, which meant we would have to figure out a schedule to share the car. Since I stayed in town and could walk to stores and to the bank, he kept the car parked at his house, which was a little more out in the country. We agreed that on days I needed the car, he would drop it off in town, and have a friend drive him home. It would be an inconvenience, but it was a manageable plan. We still share the car, and deciding who gets it which week has been the easy part. It’s the maintenance and shared financial responsibilities that have caused all of our disagreements. But in hindsight, sharing the car has taught me a lot about how to pick my battles. Some things just aren’t worth fighting over, and when it really counts, I’d rather save my energy for what matters.
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Tuesday, 23 July 2013 18:09
In the aftermath of my divorce, there were so many stressful issues I had to deal with.  There was the overarching emotional crisis, of course, which I would have to work through over time. There were also medium-sized issues, like who would pay for the car to get new tires. Then there were little surprising daily troubles, and these are the ones that taught me the most about myself. When I was married, I never worried about a leaky faucet or a broken toilet seat. These were easy things to fix, because they were things my ex-husband could fix for me. Without him around, and without the budget to call someone else, I had to resort to my own handy skills - and by my own, I mean a complete lack thereof.   
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Thursday, 18 July 2013 18:26
According to the Mayo Clinic, Manic-Depressive Disorder is “associated with mood swings that range from the lows of depression to the highs of mania. When you become depressed, you may feel sad or hopeless and lose interest or pleasure in most activities. When your mood shifts in the other direction, you may feel euphoric and full of energy.” But you don’t have to be diagnosed with a disorder to experience the highs and lows that come with divorce. This may be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to go through, and you may be so down that random bursts of what seem like actual happiness may startle you. You may even wonder if you’re going mad, with these unexpected feelings of elation, even excitement for the future. Or, maybe you thought you were going to be happy after your divorce, since it was your idea. You had looked forward to the day when the papers were signed and you could move on with your life. Then, it hits you out of nowhere. You have a sinking feeling in your stomach and a terrible, deep, unexpected sadness. Maybe all of this was a mistake. 
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Thursday, 11 July 2013 18:18
When I was going through my divorce, I had a drink with a friend of mine who was once a writer for Vanity Fair. She recounted an article she had written some years ago that pertained to my current situation and feelings about my struggles in my divorce. I had confided to my friend that I felt resentful about my ex having made so many self-improvements over the years, because now all of those great qualities would benefit someone else. But it was I who had him from scratch, and I was the one who had to endure the hard times; all the early years when he was messy and dressed badly, when he cared about nothing but his own personal success and ignored me. I had endured the in-laws (who now, of course, he lived far away from) and the graduate school struggles and the shared debt. I suffered the financial instability of a couple just starting out, and the ego of a young man in his early twenties, whose singular pursuit of notoriety bewildered and exhausted me. 
Posted by
Wednesday, 10 July 2013 16:16
Our emotional reactions following divorce are usually a mix of grief, anger, and confusion. There may be bursts of excitement and run-ins with happiness, but they are usually fewer than the sad times. It isn’t easy to let someone go, even ...
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Tuesday, 09 July 2013 15:07