Putting Myself First After Divorce
Read Time: 5 Minutes
Words by Lecy Beth
The stormy June morning that I stood in front of my vanity mirror and slid the wedding band off my finger, I was thinking about wedding vows. I thought about the words that my husband and I spoke to each other at our nuptials more than a decade before, the vows that we would break when ending our marriage.
It had been a year since I moved out of the home that I rented with my partner and still another year before our divorce would become official, but I was already feeling the anxiety of having to explore what was next for me.
What people don’t tell you when you get married is what happens to your self-confidence after the marriage ends. You feel unwanted. It is a deep hopelessness, a finality of sorts. You fear that you are destined to spend the rest of your life alone, free-floating around in the expanse that is the unloved.
Although I had love in my life – I was surrounded by family and friends who all cared for me very much – the love that comes from someone who chooses you every single day is a completely different feeling. And when that love is lost, you question your worth.
The thunder rumbled outside, mimicking the tumultuous thoughts that filled my head as I gently palpated the indentation that remained on my fourth finger. Taking off my ring was a huge step in the transition from married to divorced woman. There were a lot of emotions and memories that were tied to the piece of metal that served as a physical symbol of my marriage.
I felt empty inside, and I wondered how the whole of my self-worth had become so entwined in this partnership that was meant to last forever but didn’t. I needed to work on self-love, so that any relationship I had in the future, I would go into it healthier than the one from which I was exiting. And I needed to set boundaries so that I wouldn’t put all of my worth in the hands of someone else again.
While pondering the idea of marriage vows, I thought about how strange it was that we make these eternal promises to our partners, but never make any such vows to ourselves. We promise to love them, to comfort them, to honor them. We promise to care for them in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer.
Millions of people recite these words to another person every year, but what happens to the vows when the marriage ends? Who keeps the promises to you when the love is gone?
At that moment, like a light flicking on in my head, I knew that the very best way that I could love myself was to be the one who would keep the promises. I had to be the one who would choose me every single day so that whether I was in a relationship or not, my self-worth would come from the validation that I found within.
I decided to sit down and write out some vows to myself in what I believe is the greatest act of self-care, to choose me, to love myself enough to make some promises. I wanted something that would always be mine, that would stay with me no matter what my relationship status was.
So with pen and notebook, I sat down in front of the rain-streaked window and began to write:
I promise to love you, to love your imperfect body and all of its flaws, to love your mind, especially when it is heavy with depression and grief or busy with anxious thoughts. I will love you even when it feels like you are too much or too little for everyone else.
I promise to honor you, to speak respectfully to and of you, to never be overcritical or judgmental of you. I will see that your needs are met without guilt or shame because I know that you are better for the world when your tank is full.
I promise to choose you, to wake up every morning grateful for another day to explore all the ways you are unique and special. I will be intentional in the decisions that I make, ensuring that your best interest is always at heart, while still challenging you to reach new heights.
I promise to always be gentle with you, to be kind and compassionate, to keep the harshness of the world from wounding your spirit. I will carry your soul with tenderness and guard your energy from all that could weigh you down.
I promise to care for you in sickness and in health, to listen to your body, and provide it with the sustenance that it needs to function optimally. I will make sure that you get enough rest and schedule adequate downtime so that you have the opportunity to recharge your depleted battery.
I promise to forgive you when you fall short of the high standards set for you by yourself and others, to show you grace when life is too heavy to carry on your own. I will lovingly allow you to fail but will have the resilience and tenacity to get you back up on your feet to try again.
When I finished writing, I looked back over my words and felt a peace settle over me. While what I’d written didn’t necessarily take away the sadness that I was feeling about my marriage ending, it did give me hope for what was ahead. It felt like finding a secret garden that only I knew about, somewhere I could go when I needed to feel something more than the platonic love that I was getting from those around me.
I sat there a moment longer, letting this new feeling of self-love wash over me when I was reminded of something a friend had shared with me only a few weeks prior. It was a video of an old metal coffee canister with a fire crackling away inside it, burning some papers and whatever words had been written on them. The caption, a simple phrase. Sometimes, you need ceremony.
This memory came to me for a reason. I’d never been a proponent of ceremony in the past, but at that moment, I needed it. It was what would make the vows that I’d written feel official.
Later that evening, I lit a candle and sat at my desk to write my vows on a beautiful piece of handmade paper, reading each line aloud to myself. When I finished, I carefully placed the sheet in a small frame that I would hang where I would see it every day. I then took the plain gold band that I’d removed earlier in the day and slid it onto my right ring finger. This time, it would hold new meaning and would be tangible evidence of the promises that I was making to myself.
Eventually, I’ll choose something else to signify the importance of this moment. It might be another ring or a different piece of jewelry. It could even be a tattoo. I haven’t decided yet, but I know that I want something that will be unique and always with me.
I believe that everyone should write vows to themselves, in the name of self-care. There is no greater act of self-love than to commit to yourself, to make yourself a priority. It doesn’t compete with or detract from the vows that you might make with a partner. If anything, it allows you to find worthiness deep within your soul, and your relationships will be all the better for it.
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About the Author:
Lecy Beth is a freelance writer focusing on the topics of chronic illness and disability, mental health, relationships, creativity, books, and food. Her work has been featured both in print and on various online platforms. She lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains where she is currently working on both a novel and a memoir. She spends her free time cooking, reading, practicing yoga, managing a chronic illness, and bingeing on The West Wing.
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