Integrative Psychotherapist & Founder of Anchoring Therapy
The hardest part of my divorce wasn’t leaving.
It was the six years before that, the years spent trying to keep a family together while quietly knowing something had already broken.
Divorce rarely begins the day you separate. More often, it begins long before anyone else can see it.
For me, the beginning of the end came with betrayal.
My husband had an affair with our au-pair. Like many people in that situation, I stayed. Not because I thought it was acceptable, but because life was complicated and there were children involved. I told myself that families work through things. I told myself that stability mattered more than anything else.
So I carried on.
I kept the house running, the routines intact, the birthday parties sorted, and the school uniforms washed. If you had looked at our family from the outside, you might have thought everything was perfectly normal.
Inside, though, something had shifted.
I stayed for another six years.
In an unexpected twist, the au-pair later married my husband’s brother. You might think that would have closed the chapter, but life rarely ties things up so neatly. Eventually, the affair resurfaced again, and that was the moment I knew the marriage had reached its full stop.
Not a comma.
A full stop.
But leaving the marriage was only the beginning of a much longer emotional journey.
The Hidden Work of Divorce
One of the hardest parts of divorce isn’t the legal process, the paperwork, or even the separation itself.
It’s the emotional labour of continuing to function.
Many parents know this feeling well: you are breaking inside, but the school run still has to happen. Packed lunches still need making. Homework still needs supervising. Life carries on for the children, even when everything feels uncertain for you.
I remember one evening after a tough day, sitting with my daughters on their bedroom floor, folding laundry. I could tell they sensed something was wrong, so I made space for them to talk. We shared stories about our day, and I reassured them that even though things were changing, they were loved and safe, and none of it was their fault. Sometimes, it was just listening to their worries before bed or holding them a little longer on these nights. These small moments reminded me how important it was to offer stability in little ways, even when I felt unsteady myself.
So you put the mask on.
You keep things steady for them while quietly navigating your own grief, confusion, anger, and fear. From the outside, it may look like resilience, but often it is simply survival.
The strange thing about survival is that while you are busy holding everything together for everyone else, you slowly discover you are stronger than you ever realised.
And that is often where the rebuilding quietly begins.
The People Who Hold You Up
During my divorce, one person kept turning up.
A good friend would pop in regularly, checking in, offering conversation, and often cooking dinner for the children and me when life felt overwhelming. At the time, I saw it purely as friendship. He was simply someone kind who showed up when things were difficult.
Then one day, he stopped visiting for a while.
After a couple of months, the children began asking a very practical question:
“Why isn’t he cooking for us anymore?”
It was such a simple observation, but it made me pause. Somewhere along the way, this quiet support had become part of our lives without me even noticing.
It wasn’t until another friend laughed and said, “You do realise he wants to take you out?” that, started me to see things differently.
By then, I had already made a decision: I would never let another man into my life again. Divorce can do that. It can make you build walls where doors once were.
But life has a way of surprising us.
The friend who kept quietly showing up eventually became much more than that. The man I once saw as just support later became my husband. At a time when I thought I would never trust another relationship again, I found that sometimes the people who stand by you in your hardest moments are the ones who truly see you. But opening my heart again wasn’t instant or easy. It took time and patience to realise my fears were slowly softening, and that the kindness and consistency I felt with him helped me believe love could feel safe again. What told me I was ready wasn’t the absence of doubt, but a growing sense of peace when he was around, and the understanding that being loved didn’t mean losing myself. I could be myself! Trust rebuilt itself quietly, one small step at a time.
You can always make a U-turn on any path.
The Long Road of Family Relationships
Another long road was the relationship between my children and their father.
For nearly ten years, he did not see them. It would have been easy to close that door completely, but I believed that, where possible, children benefit from knowing where they come from. So I continued encouraging contact. That did not mean forcing a relationship or exposing the children to disappointment, but rather, leaving the door open with gentle reminders and invitations. Sometimes that meant sending photos or updates on milestones; other times, it was simply reassuring the girls that they could ask questions or reach out when they felt ready. Respecting their boundaries was crucial, as was protecting them from feeling rejected when efforts were not reciprocated. Over the years, I learned that the healthiest co-parenting did not mean constant contact or pretending everything was normal, but instead finding small ways to support curiosity, honesty, and gradual reconnection when both sides were willing. My advice is to trust your instincts, maintain clear boundaries, and focus on what feels safest for your children, even if the path unfolds slowly.
Over time, they slowly rebuilt a relationship with him. It may not look like the traditional father–daughter bond people imagine, but it exists, and that matters.
Divorce often reshapes families in ways we never expected. Relationships can become complicated, uneven, and sometimes fragile. But with patience and persistence, new versions of those relationships can sometimes grow.
What Divorce Taught Me
Looking back now, I can see that divorce didn’t simply end a relationship; it reshaped my identity.
When you’ve been part of a couple for many years, it’s easy to forget the parts of yourself that existed before the relationship. Divorce, though painful, can sometimes help you rediscover those forgotten parts.
For me, it meant returning to university as a mature student. What began almost like picking up an old hobby, something I had once been interested in but had quietly set aside during married life, gradually became something much more meaningful.
As I studied and reflected on my own experiences, I realised I wanted to help others navigate the same difficult terrain.
Divorce can feel like the end of everything you thought your life would be. But sometimes it also opens space for something unexpected: a chance to rediscover who you are and what really matters to you.
That journey eventually inspired me to write about identity during divorce, moving through and coming out the other side.
Although divorce may mark the end of “we”, it can also be the beginning of something equally important:
A return to yourself.
Divorce can feel like being thrown into rough water, leaving you disoriented, exhausted, and unsure where the shore is.
But eventually the waves begin to settle.
And when they do, you may realise that the strength you needed was there all along, quietly anchoring you until the tide turned.
And perhaps the quietest success of all is this: despite everything, my children grew up knowing they were loved, protected, and never responsible for the storm around them.
About Sarah-Jane Covell
Sarah-Jane Covell is an integrative psychotherapist based in North Yorkshire. She works with individuals and couples navigating life transitions, relationships and divorce. She is the author of When We Becomes Me: A Psychotherapist’s Guide to the Beginning, the Messy Middle, and the Other Side of Divorce. Feature: The Daily Wellness “Quiet Rebuilding Work” and Counselling Directory “Divorce and the loss of identity”
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When We Becomes Me: A Psychotherapist’s Guide to the Beginning, the
Messy Middle, and the Other Side of Divorce : Buy your copy on Amazon