The Best Thing I Did for My Relationship Was Divorce My Husband

Renata Poleon
Mar 29
9 min read

Updated: 7 days ago

two wedding bands sitting on a bed of white roses

My wedding day was a rainy December morning. For me, rain has always been a symbol of blessings and favor, and it made the day we chose each other even more meaningful. In honor of that moment, we later named one of our daughters Raine. With my mother and his best friend as our witnesses, we stood together, ready to say our I Do’s. I remember feeling a deep sense of hopefulness, excitement, and joy about embarking on what I thought would be a lifelong journey.

Just a few days before the wedding, I found myself having a mini-meltdown in the dressing room of the Diane Von Furstenberg store in Soho. Finding my wedding dress was a story in itself that required more effort than I anticipated. We planned a city hall wedding, so it wasn't an elaborate celebration—just exactly what we wanted. But as the day approached, the excitement and nerves started crashing down all at once.

After the tears in that fitting room, I found the most beautiful dress with the help of a really special store employee. It was perfect—simple, elegant, and a reflection of me. I couldn't help but think that one day, maybe one of my future daughters might want to wear or incorporate it into their own special day if they choose to get married. I was beyond happy, standing next to the person I believed I would spend the rest of my life with.

The Slow Crumbling of a Marriage

The signs were already there long before we got married, but I believed that his positive traits far outweighed the negatives. I never turned a blind eye to our issues and would address them as I saw fit, but my concerns were sometimes ignored or met with resistance. He would sometimes acknowledge them, make adjustments, but then regress into old patterns.

Like most marriages that end in divorce, our marriage fell apart gradually. It wasn't one catastrophic event, but rather a series of ever-increasing missteps that piled up brick by brick, until it became too high to climb. At the core of it was neglect—emotional and physical neglect that crept in both before and during our marriage.

We were two imperfect humans trying to navigate life together, and at the time, my imperfect partner was worth it to me. I married a provider, but he willfully marched into workaholic territory ignoring his responsibility to me as his wife. It led to countless arguments, full of words neither of us could take back. I watched as work became his shield—a coping mechanism to avoid our problems—his own, mine, and ours as a couple.

Resentment began to fester inside me like an untreated wound, slowly infecting everything around us. I felt unseen, unheard, and deeply alone in my own marriage. I couldn’t function in that space, let alone offer him or myself any grace. It was a painful, suffocating experience—one that slowly dismantled what we were trying to build, piece by fragile piece.

Accepting the End

Most people get married with the intention of staying married—certainly, that was my plan. We go into marriage with the hope that our love will withstand whatever life throws at us. I wanted that for us. I wanted our relationship to work and our family to stay whole. But eventually, I had to face the truth that my marriage had reached the end of the road.

Before asking for a divorce, I tried. I asked for therapy, I suggested living apart for a while to give us both some space to gain perspective. But he was staunchly opposed to every option I put on the table. Divorce was never my first choice, but it became my only choice when nothing else worked. I had to put myself first and prioritize my well-being.

Absent of abuse, infidelity, or severe addiction, I always encourage anyone contemplating divorce to make every effort to salvage their relationship. Divorce is costly—financially and emotionally—and often consumes more energy than the time and effort put into building the marriage in the first place. I didn’t rush into it. I exhausted every option I could think of before I finally decided to call it quits.

Choosing divorce wasn’t about giving up—it was about saving myself from a relationship that had become more harmful than healing. I had to make peace with the reality that loving someone sometimes means letting go.

The Aftermath: What Divorce Brought to the Surface

There were other issues, of course, because relationships don’t crumble over one thing; they unravel because of everything. The act of getting divorced brought up so many unexpected emotions, fears, and realizations that I had never considered before.

For Me

Becoming a Black Single Mother

I went through a period of mourning—not just for my marriage but for the life I had envisioned for my family. I had to grapple with what it meant to be not just a single mother, but a single black mother, who shoulders these responsibilities while navigating societal perceptions. Black single motherhood comes with unique challenges that are deeply rooted in both misogyny and harmful stereotypes. No one other than a Black woman truly understands what it’s like to be villainized for being the one who stayed, who tried, and who ultimately made the painful decision to leave. That awareness terrified me.

For a long time, I couldn’t bring myself to stop wearing my wedding band. I feared the judgment of being labeled “another single Black mother.” As the daughter of a single mother myself, someone I am immensely proud of, my fear wasn’t rooted in disdain for women who had children out of wedlock. Instead, it was about the harsh, nefarious words of people who demonized Black mothers, treating them as symbols of failure rather than women navigating complex lives. I had to process these feelings and come to the realization that the thoughts of others, no matter how loud or judgmental, do not define me. My responsibility is to myself and to the children I share with my ex-husband.

Living Alone for the First Time

Before my divorce, I had never lived alone. My journey began in the Caribbean, surrounded by an extended family, and when I moved to the United States, I continued living with my mother and her sister's family. Later, my mother and I moved in together, and about a year later, I moved in with my ex-husband. I had never inhabited a space where the four walls were mine and mine alone, and the thought of doing so terrified me.

Despite my fears, I knew moving forward with my decision was the right thing to do. I wasn’t alone—I had my girls, who needed me to create an environment where their mother was happy and at peace. That mattered more than anything else, because I wanted to stop that feeling of wanting to run away from my own life. Eventually, I realized that simply removing what was unbearable at the time was a better solution than running away. Once I made that decision, I felt that I could breathe again. The tension that had suffocated our home slowly dissipated, and I found a sense of calm I hadn’t felt in years.

Starting Therapy

Therapy became a crucial part of my growth. As soon as he moved out, I started therapy. We were in the throes of COVID-19 and I was working from home in a job that was coming to an end. Grief and loss loomed over me—my partner, family members lost to the pandemic, and the shattering of the life I had imagined. In the beginning, I wasn’t entirely honest with my therapist—I know, who pays for help and decides to hide pertinent information from the person assigned to listen. I had convinced myself that I was managing just fine and didn't realize what I was doing. I was able to keep up the facade for a few months, because my girls needed me and my job kept me distracted.

It wasn't until the job ended that reality came crashing down. I described it to my therapist as "...feeling like Superman ascending at the highest speed into the atmosphere, then suddenly feeling the effects of the loss of oxygen, and spiraling into a free fall." I crashed so hard. Every day felt like my own personal nightmare as every suppressed emotion surfaced, demanding my attenion. It was a breaking point, but also a turning point. When I finally stopped pretending and let the pain flow, the healing began. I allowed myself to be honest about everything that had accumulated over the years, and it was only then that I started to reclaim myself.

My Health Improved

The stress of my marriage had taken a physical toll on me, manifesting as frequent health flares that made waking up some days feel almost impossible. My body bore the weight of being in constant survival mode—always stuck between fight or flight. Being a single-married mother did that to me. Even though I technically had a partner, I was navigating life alone. I had been functioning like a single parent for so long that admitting it aloud wasn’t the shock I thought it would be.

It took time to embrace my new reality, but once I did, I noticed my health improving slowly but significantly. The absence of constant tension brought a lightness back into my life. I slept better. I had more energy. I recognized myself again, feeling more present and capable of caring for my girls without the lingering stress that had once dominated our lives. I knew I made the right choice.

The Thought of Dating Again

The idea of dating again felt daunting, almost unimaginable. I even considered not dating until my daughters were in high school, mostly out of fear. Even a year later, I still couldn’t wrap my head around the concept of opening myself up to someone new. Dating required a level of vulnerability I wasn’t ready to give. It felt like I’d have to vet any potential partner like the FBI and CIA combined, yet still find a way to let them in. That was a risk I wasn’t prepared to take with two little girls in the picture.

I went on just a handful of dates before I realized that I wasn’t ready. My focus needed to stay on myself and my daughters, on rebuilding my life and finding stability before even considering inviting someone else into our world. I chose to embrace the peace that comes with being single. I learned that there is no rush, because love would find its way to me when I’m truly ready.

For Us

Gaining a New Perspective

A separation could have potentially been able to help resolve the issues in our marriage because the time apart gave us both a different perspective. Distance revealed things we couldn’t see when we were in the thick of it. Moving straight into a divorce shocked my system in some unexpected ways. During that time, I found myself replaying memories and reflecting on the choices we made. I couldn’t help but wonder how different things might have been if we had just taken a step back and given ourselves room to breathe and think separately.

Sometimes, space allows you to see your partner differently—to understand their struggles from a distance, to feel empathy instead of frustration. I came to realize that our problems weren’t always about what he did or didn’t do, but rather how we both struggled to navigate life together. In that quiet, reflective time, I started to see both of our flaws more clearly and learned to let go of some of the resentment I’d been holding onto. It wasn’t an easy process, but it was necessary for me to gain clarity and ultimately find a sense of peace.

Co-Parenting Challenges and Successes

Navigating co-parenting was another hurdle, but we continued to put our children first. In the beginning, it felt almost impossible—figuring out schedules, communicating about the kids without falling into old arguments, and trying to present a united front despite our differences. I worried about how our daughters would adjust to living between two households.

We eventually found our rhythm and established routines that kept the girls feeling grounded and secure, even when they struggled to adjust. There were moments when frustration crept in, but I learned to set my feelings aside when it came to co-parenting decisions. As time passed, I was so happy to see him grow as a parent, even though our partnership as spouses didn’t work out. The girls still had both of us, just in a different way.

Acknowledging Our Growth

Even in the pain of divorce, we both grew. We learned and we found ways to move forward separately, still bound by the family we had created. We both had to confront uncomfortable truths about ourselves and how we contributed to the breakdown of our relationship. There were moments of guilt and regret on both sides, but also moments of understanding and acceptance. In the end, it wasn’t just about letting go of each other, but letting go of the expectations we had carried throughout our marriage.

Though the path was painful, we emerged from it with a deeper sense of who we are—both as individuals and as co-parents. The family we built remains intact, just in a new form, and we continue to support each other when it comes to raising our daughters. It’s not perfect, but it’s real, and we’ve made peace with that.

Moving Forward With Grace

Divorce is not just an ending; it’s a beginning. It’s a chance to rebuild, to redefine love and partnership, to rediscover yourself. My story is not just about the loss of a marriage—it’s about resilience, transformation, and the unexpected blessings that come from life’s storms. After two years of being apart, we decided to give our relationship another chance, and it has been the best decision of our lives.

I still look back on my wedding day as a beautiful moment. It was a day of love, of hope, of promises made with the best intentions. And while my marriage didn’t last, I carry forward the lessons, the growth, and the understanding that sometimes, the greatest gift we can give ourselves is the freedom to start anew.