No “One Size Fits All” - Expanding the narrative on marriage and divorce
Photo of my co-parent and I “untying the knot” in an uncoupling ceremony, and retying knots to commit to coparenting.
Warning, this may be a controversial post, and potentially triggering for some. But it’s marriage season, and I have things to say, readers, personally and professionally. Know that I approach this topic and everything I do, thoughtfully and with a big, romantic heart. Grab a coffee - it’s a long but good read.
My Background
I grew up moony about marriage and baby making, like many little girls. I made baby name lists before I even turned 12. My parents lived their whole lives married to each other and that deeply felt like the road ahead for me too. Honestly, I would have married my coparent pretty soon after we got together at age 22. Not just from romantic sentiment, though I did (and do) love her. Instead of being swept off my feet, there emerged a strong and grounded sense of “there you are”, like she was the right person with whom to make a home and family. She brought stability, loyalty and determination to the table, and it was just what my freewheeling self needed back then. I brought her healing, gentleness, and also joyful liveliness.
Marriage became legal in Quebec in 2005, so we married in 2006. Still the best wedding I’ve ever attended. I am aware of my bias, but seriously it was amazing. Most people brought flowers and desserts instead of presents, our clothing designer friend Katrin Leblond made our beautiful sage green and rose outfits, my best friend (and professional photographer Kate Hutchinson) did the pics, three talented friends sang “One Voice: by The Wailin’ Jennys in three part harmony, getting the congregation to rise for the “all of us” verse. I still get shivers. A Jewish/Unitarian woman presided, we cast the directions with a witch doing extra readings, and my uncle playing the bowed saw as we entered on our parents’ arms. We jumped the broom. We danced all night. You get the idea. It was magical.
Weddings
I love weddings. I have performed 27 of them and still feel honored and moved to have been a part of the couples’ sacred moments. Some of them were intentionally not legal, some were for polyamorous folx, many were queer weddings. Most of them, including the queer ones, fell into a typical pattern of exchanging vows and being proclaimed legally married. Legal or not, my favorite part is still the moment right before the kiss when it becomes official (for many, the “I now pronounce you” bit). There is a shift from before, to after, and I can feel the energy of it, like a spell is cast and the players are forever changed. That’s certainly how we felt, especially the day after, like we were living in “yes” instead of “maybe”. Such a satisfying feeling for us.
And the parties after weddings!? The best. Intergenerational usually, with music crossing many eras. So much dancing, so much sugar. Aside from the obscene cost of so many weddings (not ours), the organizational stresses, family dynamics, discomfort for some spouses being the centre of attention, and my feelings on outdated vows about obedience, weddings are usually romantic and joyful and fun. And I love a good ritual, marking the changes in our lives.
Long Term Relationships
So what’s the problem, Emily, you ask. Sounds decent so far. Some of you are wistfully or cynically expecting the drop, since the idea that the afterglow wanes is in the zeitgeist. That’s true. I hope those going into long term relationships of any flavour know that it takes commitment, especially through parenting and then perimenopause/menopause, to keep a sexual and romantic connection thriving. But this isn’t a meditation on long term relationships, nor a post about maintaining sexual connection. I recommend Emily Nagoski’s “Come Together: The Science (and Art!) of Creating Lasting Sexual Connections” for her genius on the topic. NB: it is poorly named, and nothing to do with simultaneous orgasms, yet still a work of GENIUS.
Marriage
This is instead a post about the institution of marriage, its promises, as well as its limitations, even if one does it outside the legal system. From day one, thanks to religion, but also since the dawn of capitalism, we are sold a beautiful lie. That your life will be good and acceptable if you find the right person “to have and to hold” (“right” varies depending on the era, culture and person). You’ll make God, your parents and the government happy, your kids will be “legit”, society will shower (some of) you with privilege, and you’ll never be alone again (“‘til death” anyway). My in-laws, and society, definitely saw us differently and treated us with more legitimacy after the wedding.
Whether or not a couple plans to have kids, whether or not they are religious, they still face enormous pressure to conform. You may have heard of the “relationship escalator” model, coined by journalist Amy Gahran in 2012. It’s the path laid out ahead for young people, and folx at any age interested in romantic relationships. It’s deeply etched in the Disney franchise, promising “happily ever after” if you follow the script. You start by dating someone, fall in love with them, be monogamous, move in together, get married (or at least long-term serious), add babies (and/or dogs) to the mix if you can [the order of all these may vary], and then stay together until one of you shuffles off this mortal coil.
That’s the script. And it works well enough for lots of people.
And the script also fails many more of us. Not because we fail. Not because separation / divorce means a “failed marriage”. It doesn’t (though it is expensive). In that limited mindset, in fact, divorce is typically seen as a failure of the people therein, not the model itself being problematic. Hence why I’m writing this blog post. We were sold a shirt that said “one size fits all” and it really doesn’t. Or not usually “forever”. Or we were sold a package that seemed to have a lifetime warranty, but the fine print was blurred by our society and our rose tinted lenses. And most importantly, the script fails to account for what is guaranteed in life, the diversity of people and the inevitability of change.
Many Options
I certainly didn’t know there were diverse ways to do marriage and relationships growing up. I wonder if you did. You might hear about some weirdo fringe people (I now proudly exist in that category), a crazy aunt here and there (ok, I’m that too, ha). There are, in fact, as many ways to be in relationships with others as there are people having them. Some examples include being polyamorous or open, having distance relationships, short term but impactful ones, common law coupling, and communal living. Additionally, many people within those or other relationship formats choose not to marry, or not to even live together.
Filmmaker Sharon Hyman names those who live apart, “Apartners”, which is my current status (and I love it). Apartners have their own households, direct their own lives, finances etc, and it is an especially popular choice for those raising kids from a former relationship (to avoid blending, which can be complex). There is also a legal framework in most districts, called “LAT” (Living Apart Together) where you can even do it while married. Yes, it may involve privilege to afford two homes, but people get creative. It’s still seen as quite alternative for couples not to share finances, homes, live in the same area or promise anything lifelong, but we’re doing it. It does however behoove a couple (thruple etc) to have a shared vision for what they DO want, designing arrangements that suit them, devoting the necessary time, energy and dedication to the relationship(s)’ wellbeing.
To be clear, I’m not against marriage. I’m glad I got married. I support each of our choices, and there are plenty of good reasons to get hitched. It’s really powerful to declare one’s vows before witnesses, to set intentions together for your relationship. There are social benefits, and potential legal and financial ones. The “system” is definitely on the side of marriage, so it can feel like the path of least resistance.
Promising lifelong, mutual love can also feel soothing to some of our nervous systems, based on our histories. The institution of marriage can bring a lot of comfort and a felt sense of stability for people like me who really needed that. I didn’t subscribe to Plato’s vision of reuniting split bodies and souls, finding your “other half”. But the idea of finding a person to complete the picture was compelling to me and is compelling to many other people, especially those with a history of anxious attachment, or a mystical or traumatized side bent on merging and union with one’s beloved (I may, ahem, be speaking from experience).
Besides choosing a partner, my journey definitely involved choosing marriage (for almost 14 of our nearly 20 years together as a couple) because of romance/society (and a fabulous proposal!), but also because the marriage itself gave me a feeling of security at the time. It did so even when we opened our marriage (maybe especially so). I felt wrecked when we eventually separated, and realized later that in my case, it was the marriage that brought me a sense of security, not our actual relationship. Like the container would save us, save me. I held onto the marriage as my safety net even though our relationship really needed to evolve into friendly coparents.
I discovered afterwards that true security for me has meant standing on my own feet as a whole, independent person. That is not at all to say one can’t find true secure attachment within a marriage or relationships generally. One can definitely heal from within them, as I regularly tell my clients. It just wasn’t going to happen for me in that specific relationship. I feel secure attachment with my current partner both because she’s a better fit for who I am now, but at least as much because I have dedicated myself to therapy and learned to feel stronger and more secure alone.
Separation and Divorce
My coparent and I needed to change shape, needed to find our own more beneficial paths. She wisely said that we’d be happier as friends and coparents, and she was totally right. So we fought the pervasive messaging around “failure”, swimming upstream instead, deciding our own lives mattered too. We took our determination and applied it to being healthy humans and good coparents instead. We even had an “uncoupling” ceremony (pictured above), untying the romantic knot from our wedding, and retying new ones out of commitment to each of our kids.
What I wish I’d known better going into my marriage was that like friendships, like careers, like our bodies and ourselves in general, relationships evolve and change. I therefore question the double standard for relationships. Why it is seen as appropriate to change career paths, but a f-up to separate (even when done with care). Because it’s “inconvenient” to the system? Is marriage exempt from the usual laws of nature? Just because a flower changes to fruit, that doesn’t diminish the beauty of its former petals. Things change, people grow, and sometimes they grow apart.
For the Kids
I’ve bristled lately at how easily people garner applause for saying, “We’ve been married this long”. Many of us have had beautiful relationships that lasted a few months, and bad ones that lasted years. When people list a # of years, I want to know more, whether the married couple has been happy and satisfied within their marriage. Whether they are surviving in an expired relationship by sheet grit and/or habit. Is it for religion? From fear of being alone? Or worse, “for the kids”? Studies have shown that kids fare best in a loving household with at least one adult they can securely attach to, whose parents aren’t in serious conflict with each other (good article here). Divorce done well, with active coparents who prioritize the kids’ well being, has better outcomes than living inside a toxic household. In my opinion, seeing their parents have boundaries and be in healthy, loving relationships (including seeing peaceful/kind relations between the divorced parents) is great role modeling.
I’m not saying it’s easy. Without kids, divorced couples can avoid each other forever if they want. I wish every parent could know what was involved before having kids: that for the kids’ sake they’ll need to be very, very grown up (at least in terms of emotional maturity), no matter the outcome of the relationship. Therapy can be expensive too! And some exes are just duds, douchey, or downright abusive, which makes it 100 times harder to go the peaceful route.
It can be painful to interface with an ex regularly. I’m proud to say that we’re committed to the process, to still being a family, albeit an ever growing, big queer tree of a family. We are separated, not divorced, and I’m still on her benefits. Though separation is pricey, divorce is an extra cost, so we’ve left it for the time being. We’ll revisit if one of us ever wants to legally remarry. For our separation, we got a mediator to help with the details, but chiefly because it was a cheaper way to draw up the legal separation agreement (a route I highly recommend).
We’re doing ok, overall, but it’s not because it’s easy, or doesn’t hurt. I am still in grief. I still find seeing her and her partner hard. What made us separate is still true, and still flares. Successful coparenting requires a daily recommitment to staying in active and kind communication. And yet, breaking down the rules set out by society, committing to an expanded idea of love and family, means our kids are thriving, surrounded by loving adults of various genders. I feel affection for their step-sibs, and take care of them sometimes now. It’s kind of beautiful. Our donor (who has been divorced from his ex-wife for a few years), his partner and her kids have surreptitiously become more central in our lives too. We even did a successful (and herculean) road trip with ALL of us last summer. Our collective kids get to see us adults in healthy, suitable romantic relationships with our current partners, laughing, affectionate, warm. We fold them all into our joy.
In Conclusion
By gods, my co-parent and I somehow made it through. But readers, how much more supportive and pleasant would it have been to have that journey normalized? To not feel, yet again, like we’re divergents. No doubt I feel some pleasure walking an unusual path. It can be fun over here, flouting the norm because possibilities emerge, creative opportunities abound. Community becomes essential and beautiful. Deep down though, most of us oddballs want to feel like we belong, that we are worthy of love however we are. Resisting the status quo takes a LOT of effort.
I’m not sure if I want to remarry. My life is already rich and full of loving people: friends, family and an awesome “apartner” with whom I share a deep commitment to communication and mutual growth. I have a home and a business to run. The only element that currently appeals to me is the fun and romance of a wedding, not marriage itself, legal or otherwise (for now, maybe forever).
My passion now lies in changing the narrative, in expanding the edges rather than middle. There is a lot to learn about what’s possible when we drop limited, collective myths. And don’t even get me started about widening the narrow understanding of gender and gender roles! Overall, we could accept (nay, embrace!) that there isn’t one right way to live and love. How could there be? What kind of beautiful garden only has one kind of plant? One color of flowers? The world flourishes in diversity, and that’s the truth. Everything and everyone changes, and everything and everyone benefits from kindness.
I'll still come to your wedding. I'll still cry like a big ‘ol sap and dance all night long! I can still help you make the most of your marriage. I'm just hoping you and I can make our relationship and life choices from now on from a place of wholeness, knowledge and freedom.
You in?
