Your new life won't start until you grieve the end of your marriage

If you don't grieve the end of your marriage, you'll stay stuck in co-parenting conflict (here's how to move forward)

When my first marriage ended, it was like a bomb had gone off inside me. I was shattered into a million pieces, Humpty Dumpty slurping on a latte, drifting down the grocery aisle, going through the motions of living a life. I was 35, the mother of a toddler, and so lost I could barely put on a pair of pants without sobbing.

I had no idea that I needed to intentionally grieve the loss of my marriage. If I'm real, I didn't even know what grief was. I was a disaster, sure (either dissociated or crying on the bathroom floor) but I was still trying to act like I was okay, like I wasn't in the middle of the most catastrophic change to life as I knew it. I mean, I was seemingly moving forward, trying to date someone new, maintaining a smile around my kiddo, but beneath the surface, the ache of everything I'd lost was thumping in my chest.

The marriage was over, but so was the dream of growing old together, of raising our child under one roof, of keeping our family intact.

And because I didn't let myself grieve, that grief ran the show.

I learned this the hard way, so hopefully you don't have to: you cannot move forward after divorce until you grieve what's ended. When you avoid grief, it doesn't disappear. It shows up as impatience with your kids, defensiveness with your ex, exhaustion in your body, and constant conflict in your co-parenting. Grief isn't something to fear or push through or "get over." It's the doorway to everything that comes next. Your new life is waiting on the other side of this grief, but you can't skip this part and expect to arrive whole.

I'm a divorce recovery and co-parenting coach who specializes in emotional regulation for professional mothers navigating divorce. I've been through two divorces with two kids and now have peaceful, joyful co-parenting relationships with both of my exes. What I've learned over the last 15 years, both personally and through working with dozens of women in your exact position, is that the women who try to bypass grief stay stuck in conflict and resentment for years. The women who do the hard work of actually grieving emerge on the other side with clarity, peace, and the capacity to build something new.

This work of grieving is Step 2 of my 5-step approach to divorce recovery: building capacity to feel without being destroyed by it. You can't skip this step and expect to reclaim your emotional sovereignty later. First you stabilize your emotional energy enough to function. Then you grieve. Then you can accept reality, release guilt and blame, and eventually reclaim your inner authority.

This applies specifically to professional mothers navigating divorce: women who are trying to hold it together at work while privately falling apart, who don't have time to "process" but desperately need a way through the pain, who are high-functioning on the outside but unraveling on the inside.

Grieving the end of your marriage isn't easy, but it's essential

For me, grieving looked like stumbling through my days in a haze of sadness and overwhelm. It looked like feeling my chest tighten every time I dropped my son off at my ex's house, knowing he'd be spending the night somewhere else.

It looked like crying in the shower when the house was too quiet.

It looked like rage bubbling up in the middle of a perfectly normal conversation with my ex. It looked like sitting in my car after school drop-off, staring at the steering wheel, wondering how I got here. And it wasn't just grief. It was shame. Guilt. Fear. Regret. The whole deranged cocktail of emotions I didn't want to feel but couldn't escape. It took me a long time to learn that grief doesn't follow a clean, predictable path. You don't just cry it out one weekend and move on. Grieving is messy and raw and deeply uncomfortable. But it's also the only way through.

Grief after divorce isn't weakness. It's not self-indulgence. It's not something you should be "over" by now. It's the necessary work of acknowledging that something significant has ended, honoring what was, and making space for what's coming next.

How skipping grief shows up in your life

When I avoided grieving, I thought I was protecting myself. Instead, it showed up in ways I couldn't control.

It showed up as impatience with my son. I hated how snappy and irritable I was with him, but I couldn't seem to stop.

It showed up as defensiveness with my ex. Every conversation felt like a fight, even when it didn't need to be.

It showed up as heaviness in my body: a tight chest, a constant sense of dread, exhaustion that wouldn't go away no matter how much I slept.

It showed up as obsessive rumination. Replaying conversations, wondering if I'd made the right choice, spinning through "what if" scenarios at 3am.

It showed up in my inability to be present. I was physically there but emotionally checked out, going through the motions while my mind was stuck in the past.

When you don't grieve the end of your marriage, the pain doesn't just vanish. It gets into your body, into your relationships, into every corner of your life. It leaks out sideways in irritability, anxiety, physical symptoms, and co-parenting conflict that feels impossible to resolve.

What you're actually grieving (it's more than just the marriage)

When your marriage ends, you're not just grieving one thing. You're grieving multiple losses all at once:

The relationship itself. Even if it was unhealthy, even if leaving was the right choice, you're losing a primary attachment bond. That's significant.

The future you imagined. The life you thought you'd build. Growing old together. The intact family. Shared grandchildren in one house. The story you told yourself about how your life would unfold.

Your identity. Being married. Being a wife. Being partnered. The version of yourself who was "making it work." The woman who didn't fail at this.

Your children's intact family. Even if staying would have been worse, you still wish they didn't have to experience this rupture. You're grieving on their behalf.

The hope you carried. That things would get better. That he'd change. That you'd feel differently. That love would be enough.

Your sense of safety and predictability. Divorce throws everything into uncertainty. Where will you live? How will finances work? What does the future even look like?

All of these losses are legitimate. All of them deserve to be acknowledged and felt. And feeling them doesn't mean you made the wrong choice. It means you're human.

Grieving the loss of your marriage is the foundation for what's next

It took me a good minute to get this truth (like, a 4-year minute): when you avoid grieving, the pain doesn't just disappear. It sinks into your body, your co-parenting relationship, into every interaction with your ex.

I now know that grief isn't something to fear. It's a doorway. When you allow yourself to feel the heartache of the end of your marriage (the relationship, the dream, the life you thought you'd have) you make space for something new.

Grieving allowed me to rebuild trust with myself. It helped me let go of the past so I could show up for the present. It gave me the strength to co-parent from a place of steadiness and clarity, instead of reactivity and resentment.

Grief isn't just for you. It's for your kids. It's for the life you're building now. It's for the version of yourself you haven't met yet.

When you do the work of grieving, you stop carrying the marriage into every interaction with your ex. You stop making decisions from a place of unprocessed pain. You start responding instead of reacting. You reclaim your energy, your clarity, your capacity to be present.

When you're ready to start grieving, here's where to begin

Grief doesn't have a timeline or a checklist. It unfolds at its own pace. But here are some practices that helped me (and that I teach my clients) to move through grief instead of staying stuck in it:

1. Create an intentional grieving ceremony

Find some alone time. Gather photos and mementos from your time together. Play songs you both loved. Write a letter to the version of yourself who believed in this relationship. Allow yourself to feel the tenderness of what was.

This is about honoring the life you shared and acknowledging all the pain that led to the end of that chapter. Cry, scream, or just sit in the sadness.

Practice what meditation teacher Pema Chodron calls the 90-second rule for feeling emotions: if you courageously allow a hard feeling to come up and be alive in you, it will shift in 90 seconds or less. Try it. Set a timer. Let the feeling be there without fighting it, fixing it, or making it mean something catastrophic. Just feel it. You'll be amazed how it moves through.

2. Name what you've lost

Write it all down: the marriage, the dream, the family you thought you'd have, the future you imagined, the identity you held, the safety you felt. Put words to it. The act of naming your losses makes them real and makes them something you can actually grieve instead of just carrying around indefinitely.

Be specific. Not just "I lost my marriage" but "I lost Saturday morning coffee together. I lost having someone to call when something funny happens. I lost the belief that love would be enough. I lost the version of me who thought I could make this work."

3. Build your capacity to feel without collapsing

This is what my 5-step approach is all about. You can't just open the floodgates and let grief consume you (especially if you're a working mother who has to function). You need to practice feeling in doses.

Set a timer for 10-15 minutes. Let yourself feel the grief fully during that time. Cry if you need to. Don't problem-solve. Don't analyze. Just feel.

Then, when the timer goes off, physically shift: stand up, wash your face, step outside. You're practicing building capacity (the ability to be with difficult emotions without being destroyed by them, to feel without collapsing).

4. Find resources that speak to you

Tara Brach's Radical Acceptance and Pema Chodron's When Things Fall Apart were my lifelines. Find what resonates for you. Books, podcasts, guided meditations, whatever helps you stay connected to your grief instead of running from it.

Sometimes you need permission to grieve from someone who's been there. Sometimes you need words for what you're feeling. Sometimes you just need to know you're not alone in this.

5. Get support (you're not supposed to do this alone)

You're not supposed to do this alone. Lean on a therapist, a coach, or a trusted friend who can listen without giving you unsolicited advice or trying to fix you. Find someone who can hold space for your messiness without trying to make you feel better before you're ready. Grief witnessed is grief that can move through. Grief hidden stays stuck.

6. Be patient with yourself

There's no timeline for grief. Let it unfold at its own pace. Some days will feel lighter. Some days the weight will knock you sideways. Both are part of the process.

You're not doing it wrong if it's taking longer than you think it should. You're not weak if you're still sad months later. You're not failing if you thought you were done grieving and then it hits you again out of nowhere.

Grief comes in waves. Eventually, the waves get smaller and farther apart. But they don't stop completely. And that's okay.

Signs you're stuck in unprocessed grief

Sometimes you're grieving without realizing it. Sometimes grief gets stuck and shows up as other things. Here's how to tell if unprocessed grief is running the show:

You're constantly irritable or short-tempered. Every small thing sets you off. You snap at your kids, lose patience easily, can't tolerate normal frustrations.

You can't move forward. You're stuck. Can't make decisions. Can't imagine the future. Paralyzed.

You're obsessively ruminating. Replaying conversations, wondering if you made the right choice, spinning through "what if" scenarios constantly.

Physical symptoms with no medical cause. Headaches, digestive issues, exhaustion, chest tightness, trouble sleeping.

You're numb or disconnected. Going through the motions but not really present. Feeling nothing. Dissociated from your own life.

Co-parenting conflicts never resolve. Every interaction with your ex escalates. You're constantly triggered. Nothing gets easier.

If you're recognizing yourself in these patterns, it's not because you're broken. It's because you haven't fully grieved yet. The good news? You can start now.

Frequently asked questions about grieving after divorce

How long does grief after divorce last? There's no fixed timeline. Most people experience the most intense grief in the first 6-12 months, but waves can continue for years. What matters more than duration is whether you're building capacity to feel without being consumed, and whether the grief is gradually becoming less frequent and less intense over time.

Is it normal to grieve a marriage I chose to leave? Absolutely. You can simultaneously know you made the right decision AND grieve deeply. These aren't contradictory. You're grieving the loss of the dream, the future you imagined, the identity you held, not necessarily wishing you'd stayed.

What's the difference between grief and depression after divorce? Grief is a natural response to loss that moves in waves (intense then lighter, back and forth). Depression is persistent, doesn't lift, affects your ability to function, and may include thoughts of hopelessness or self-harm. If you're not sure, talk to a therapist. Both can be present at the same time.

Can I grieve if I was the one who wanted the divorce? Yes. Initiating divorce doesn't mean you don't experience loss. You still lost the future you imagined, the identity of being married, the hope that things would work out. Your grief is legitimate even if you made the choice.

How do I grieve when I don't have time to fall apart? This is the work of building capacity to feel. You don't need hours a day. Set a timer for 10-15 minutes, let yourself feel fully during that time, then physically shift back to functioning mode. Grief in doses, not constant immersion.

What if I'm not grieving at all? Some people go through an initial period of relief or numbness before grief hits. If you genuinely feel okay, trust that. If you're suppressing or avoiding feelings, they'll show up eventually (often as physical symptoms or co-parenting conflict).

Ready to stop carrying this alone?

If you're stuck in unprocessed grief after divorce, if you're exhausted from pretending you're fine when you're not, if co-parenting conflict is consuming your mental energy because you haven't fully let go of the marriage, you don't have to keep doing this alone.

I work with professional mothers navigating divorce to help them grieve what they've lost, stabilize their nervous systems, and reclaim the internal authority they need to move forward. Not by bypassing difficult emotions, but by building real capacity to feel without collapsing.

This is my 5-step approach to divorce recovery. Grieving is where we begin the real work of building your new life. You can book a FREE connection call and we'll figure out together if this work is right for where you are.