Writing the truth: on Divorce.

I have a bottle of wine chilling in my freezer.  I will need at least a glass of it to make it through this post.

Some of you have reached out to me since my post on depression, asking why I’m not writing much anymore, why I’ve dropped off of the WordPress radar.   I wonder the same thing sometimes.  Honestly?  I’ve wanted to write.  I’ve had words upon words ready.  Ready to talk about the two horses I’ve rescued since my 30th birthday.  Ready to tell you about the duckings that were hatched by a turkey hen then raised in the house, culminating in this little one wandering upstairs on her own in search of the bathtub.

I’ve wanted to tell you about the creatures I’ve lost.  The ones I’ve found.  The everyday beauty of life in this little corner of the universe.  I’ve considered writing again about the depression that I’ve struggled with on and off for most of my adult life.  Sometimes the words have seemed almost ready to spill out.

But then I would start writing.

And I would stop writing.

Because, deep down, everything I was starting to write felt deeply inauthentic.  What I wanted to say and what I felt I could say, or maybe should say, were two different things.

The most pressing issue in my world wasn’t something that I was ready to talk about, and it seemed wrong to pretend otherwise.  No matter how much I love the horses I rescued, no matter how funny it seemed to be hauling a pet chicken to the vet in a cat carrier in the back seat of my Jetta, no matter how much my llamas made me smile, it all paled in comparison to the fact that my marriage was falling apart.  That things had been crashing down around me for the better part of two years.  That things weren’t ok, and that they hadn’t been for a long time.

I promised myself when I started this blog that I would be authentic, that I wouldn’t just be another voice on social media sharing only the good stuff and none of the bad, a voice making readers feel like everyone else has their shit together while they don’t.  For the most part, I think I’ve succeeded in some level of balance there, but divorce?

I didn’t know where to start.  I didn’t know how to tell my story without telling parts that don’t entirely belong to me.  I didn’t know where authenticity just became whining.  Mostly though?  I really didn’t want to admit that this was happening to me.  I didn’t want to see it in black and white.  I didn’t want it to be real.

But, I guess whether or not it’s what I want, this is what’s real:
Two years ago, almost to the day, the most important relationship in my life started to unravel.
November of 2015 marked the worst month of my life, and I spent the next year and a half fighting to leave that month behind, move past it, and save my marriage to the man I loved more than anything else regardless of how that relationship had hurt me.
Six months ago, Jeremiah moved out.  Not long after that, he sat across the couch from me and told me that he would never “stay here and make himself miserable.”
And now?  Well, he just signed the papers, which I guess is why I’m finally admitting that this is all real.  It’s happening.  There is no magical marriage fairy on her way to wave a wand and fix things.

A little over six years ago, I married one of the best men I had ever met.  Currently, I am divorcing one of the best men I’ve ever met.

That is the truth of my life at the moment.

Meanwhile, the world spins madly on, and I’m still here, still managing 50 something animals every day, working an office job, and trying to remember that “I can do hard things.”

Today, I felt the weight of all of this pressing on me and I changed it to “I can do hard things…for an hour…in my pajamas” before heading out to take care of evening chores.

The ranch is still here.  I am still here.  I am not going anywhere, and neither is this blog.

This isn’t really an announcement to most of those who are close to me.  Most I’ve told.  Many have heard it through the proverbial grapevine, which I realized this Christmas when cards started showing up from family to “Cherity” and not “Cherity and Jeremiah.”  Even some of my readers have hinted at his absence in my posts, or the fact that he seemed to always be gone, but I know this will catch some of you by surprise.  In a weird way, this whole thing caught me by surprise too.

They say that “life happens while you’re planning for it,” and I guess that’s true.  There is no cultural road-map for thirty, childless, divorced, and managing a farm–no psychology textbooks for that life stage—yet, it’s where I find myself.

Life is tricky, and divorce makes it trickier.

So, what now?

I keep asking myself the same thing.

I think, on some level, admitting what’s going on just opens the door for me to write about a hundred other things that touch on this subject without feeling like a fraud.  I think it opens the door for me to be a little more honest and authentic in my writing.  I think, as much as anything, maybe I’m just putting this down in words so that, maybe, someone out there going through the same thing might feel a little less alone.

And I think, for now, that’s all I’m going to say about it.  For now, this is enough.


40 thoughts on “Writing the truth: on Divorce.

  1. Cherity, thank you for sharing the pain you have been going through. Thank you for being the writer–and the woman–you are. Your post took my breath away with its honesty, its authenticity, with your vulnerability. So many of us would not have the courage to share our pain the way you have. I don’t know much about how to get through such dark times though I have had them myself. Other than this. All I could do was put one foot in front of another and hope there was light somewhere in the distance. I have learned, and continue to learn, that it is all a gift. Even the dark times. That I have to trust that Someone is watching out for me though I have all sorts of evidence to the contrary. I do think you have a wonderful gift of being the Cherity you are. And I, for one, love your writing and hope you will continue with it. Take care and know you are in my thoughts tonight as I send good thoughts your way. Once again thank you and be well.


  2. Just started following your blog a week or two ago. Relationship pain (for me) is 1000 times worse than any physical stuff I’ve ever had. Not going to say anything more on that… I share a love of rescued animals with you. Just last night we realized all (3) of our animals…are rescued animals. Two of them just showed up and the third (a Russian blue kitten) we found wandered along a major local highway, just before Christmas. Appreciate your heart. DM

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you. My creatures keep me sane and have been my touchstone in all of this. I think sometimes they do as much for me as I do for them. (Also, after reading your comments, and Don’s, I had to look up blue Russian kittens. Lovely!)

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I already know if Mrs DM passes before me and I am alone in the house, Libby (our Lab) will get to live inside with me 🙂 We have a friend who lost her husband a few years ago…I encouraged her to get a dog. At first she said NO WAY…eventually caved, and has told me numerous times how glad she was she changed her mind. Animals really can encourage us. I think it’s something about their unconditional love.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. So sorry to hear this.. It is one of the toughest things that most of us go through – but you do get through it and the world is bright again on the other side of that darkness. Know that we are here to at least lend an ear.


    1. I keep hearing that it gets better. I’m at the stage where I have to trust that those who went through this before me know better, even when it doesn’t really feel like things are improving. Thanks, as always, for listening…


  4. Divorce does make things trickier. It also makes things better-but the better part takes a while to get to because you have to go through all the feelings part. My divorce was a few years ago. Its much, much, MUCH better now

    Liked by 2 people

  5. I admire your honesty, authenticity, and courage. I think you’re an inspiration. When our sheep appeared to be seriously ill a couple of weeks ago, I kept repeating your words over and over in my mind, like a mantra…”I can do hard things.” In my moment of worry and suffering, I was thankful for that post you shared a while ago. But, more than anything, I was thankful for knowing someone with your strength. Take care. Sending love and positive thoughts your way. xo


    1. Thank you, Tonya. I’m thankful to know you as well, and I’m glad my little mantra has been helpful to you.

      To be fair, I came about that mantra secondhand as well (through Glennon Melton of Momastery), but it has become my touchstone as I work through everything the farm, and life, throws at me.

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Many things run parallel to others in life. It’s how we gain understanding and compassion for one another. I have had depression all of my life, but I try to rise above where it wants to take me. The ego is such a strong manipulator. I have been struggling with being “authentic” myself lately (with my blog), and I too have not written much. My dilemma is to share about releasing Emma and Ronnie deer to the wild, and the coyote problem in this area. I know most people won’t want to know the “truth” and I suppose many folks do not want to be judged about the choices they make. Cherity, I do not think there is anything you could do or say to cause me to love you less. I admire so much about you and your life. Life is a continual up and down with periods of coasting.
    Now I wish I had arranged to spend a few days in your neck of the woods while I was up north recently! Sounds like you could use an extra hand with chores and a good ear for listening! I love you, sweet friend. Keep your chin up! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  7. You are brave. You are strong. You are inspirational. Thank you for sharing. Even though I’m not in the same situation (or anywhere close, really), your words help me. I cannot tell you how many times a day I tell myself that I can do hard things. ❤


  8. I’m so proud of you for writing this post. Writing truth is the hardest thing of all and you did a wonderful job of it. I wish there was a quick fix but, as you already know, the only way past it is through it and you’re doing the work. Keep going and you’ll find yourself in a better place eventually. Reach out to those who love you, even if you don’t want to talk and just want a hug or a friend to have a glass of wine with. They’ll appreciate the chance to be with you in this space. ((hugs))

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Thanks for writing. I’ve felt the same urge lately to write, even though I’ve been avoiding it for a while now. It’s easy to share the little mistakes, imperfections, and funny anecdotes of my life, but it’s something else to share the grit. After all, my blog is…a blog (albeit with very few followers), not a diary. So, how much do I tell? At what point could it unintentionally hurt someone I love? Still wrestling with those decisions. But you’ve done it honestly and gracefully here. You are strong and you will get through this. Love you!


    1. Love you too!

      It’s all very sticky. I am just fumbling through writing about this sort of stuff, trying to be honest but also considerate. I hope you decide to write again soon. I love your writing.


  10. You have given yourself a tough assignment. You’ll get there. To “write over divorce” can be a smart move if you can avoid ruminating. Believe it or not I’ve created a course on that topic on Udemy .com. It could help. My total commiseration meantime. Divorce is crazy making… for a while.


  11. I happened to see your handle on Lori’s blog (she is a dear blogger friend) and since it said farm, I just had to come over and now I am following you. Your blog intrigues me, the llamas, horses, and the entire bunch of animals. I am so very sorry that you had a rough time and are now divorced. There are simply some things that we can’t control. If one partner wants out of a marriage there is nothing you can do or say. Just remember that your life will be better at some point-it might take a while or it might be soon. Here’s wishing the best for you and I’m sending good karma your way.

    Best regards,
    Yvonne D.


    1. Thanks for the follow and the well wishes. There is one thing I’m learning about divorce: it can be a hell of a teacher.
      I popped over to your blog and read about your sally. It was a lovely story. I followed you as well.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Thank you but you didn’t need to follow because I did. In retrospect, my writing that I was following was not in good taste and I could not erase it after I had clicked my comment to post. I try not to be crass but s0metimes my judgement is not so hot when in a hurry. For what it is worth or not, both my children have been divorced but fortunately my daughter and son did not have children. Thank God for that. You need not reply to this unless you feel the need . I just wanted to add this bit. 🙂


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