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I’m excited to say I’ve got another guest writer today. It’s about divorce, which is not something I’ve experienced myself but something that I think is really important to cover and I know that some of you have experienced it for yourselves. I’ve talked about the stigma that single women still face, but there is a special kind of stigma attached to single women who are divorced young.
Here, Emma Reynolds writes really movingly about untangling her life from her ex-husbands and the questions she was immediately faced with from family and friends. Personally, I think Emma is incredibly brave and I’m so happy she has written this for The Single Supplement.
Have a good week,
Nicola
Twitter: @Nicola_Slawson | Instagram: @Nicola_Slawson
The stigma of being a young divorcee by Emma Reynolds
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I find it strange how we envisage divorce, with its rage and fury, as though the anger replaces the pain; yet it’s no different to when romantic love changes outside of the vows of marriage. It doesn’t disrupt the sadness or the feeling of hopelessness because it’s still love, isn’t it? In some ways, I think the sadness can often be felt more deeply because of the societal expectations surrounding it – the commentary telling us that we must make it work, that to walk away is to signal failure. And the word, divorce.
For me, divorce is a word that would hit me in the gut both before I was divorced and now that I am. It is loaded, charged, designed to illicit deep inhales, darting eyes, and when your eyes do meet, looks of concern and sympathy. Separating from someone you chose to marry, who you stood with in front of a rather large crowd of people you like, reciting vows of forever-ness and commitments of never letting each other go; well, it’s difficult. The actual decision can often bring clarity – the risk of staying together outweighs the risk of moving apart – it’s the bits that follow that can be like moving through quicksand akin to the horse in The Never Ending Story and we all know how that ended.
Almost as soon as we split I was hit with the Holy Trinity of question topics: wombs, men, money. My former husband didn’t face questions on these topics, yet it was an utter free for all for me. I was immediately asked about my plans for children. Wasn’t I afraid I’d never have them now? I was 31 years old. Surely, I was concerned about dating again? Shouldn’t I just get back out there before it’s too late? And as for money, how would I cope? It was a fantasy to believe I’d be able to afford to live alone, surely I knew that? I was too young to get divorced and too old to be single, yet I felt like the best version of me yet. Why could nobody see what I could see?
Gwyneth Paltrow talks about divorce as feeling like ‘you don’t have any skin on’ yet it’s the time where everyone asks questions that are misjudged, charged, and emit pain reminiscent to that of being dipped in acid. I’ve been told I am a bad omen when sitting in a group of people discussing their weddings, I had a peer use my experience and develop it into a case study for a piece of work, I have been told I am pre-used and not dating material. The shame projected on me though is less than the shame I have felt for myself. The self-stigma around divorce encourages those who have experienced it to feel a deep sense of failure, a lacking in some way – why couldn’t I convince them to love me – a sense of impending doom about ever having to tell another future partner of this awful event in time.
I have discovered that being on the fringes of what society deems acceptable and palatable provides you with the opportunity to properly examine your wants and needs outside of the framework transcribed to you from birth. No longer do I look at key life milestones as a marker for achievement or even as something to align myself to. I have been given a free pass to Outsidersville and with that, I am able to make decisions that wholly service myself. While that can be scary and daunting; and often role model-less, it is the most liberating way of living I have experienced as an adult.
So, this is my take on divorce for what it’s worth. I chose to be with and marry a man who is wonderful, glorious, delightful, and who became my family. I feel an immense sense of privilege that he was brave enough to enter into those vows with me, to be so incredibly optimistic and hopeful that our love would last until our hands had wrinkled and our eyes closed for one final time. I know the courage it took for both of us to recognise when we needed more, to say it out loud, and start the process of untangling our lives that we had woven so tightly together.
To feel shame about something that requires such strength, such gumption, to me seems almost laughable now. How could I feel anything other than pride? To live a life as full as possible, it’s all of our aspirations. And now, finally, I get to do that for myself.
Emma Reynolds works in innovation by day and writes about relationships and romantic love on a freelance basis by night. She has a newsletter dedicated to books written mostly by women to justify how many hardbacks she purchases. She lives in South London with her pooch, Geoff. Follow her on Instagram and Twitter.
Party time
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I’m so excited to be finally hosting a party for this community. Hopefully you will have seen the invite on Friday, but if not, here’s the link for the first birthday party I am throwing to celebrate this newsletter and this wonderful community of single women. To cover all the costs of Zoom and my guests, there is a small ticket price. Tickets are only £5 (plus the Eventbrite fee) until 5 October so get in there early. It will be a chance to get to know each other better, have a bit of fun and there might be a surprise or two...
What caught my attention
Caroline O'Donoghue: Seven pledges to my single friends
This is a funny article by Caroline O’Donoghue, who is not single but not married either and so feels like an ambassador going between the two camps. Her first pledge made me laugh (although her seventh is my favourite): “If we are talking about how hard it is for you to meet anyone new, I will not suddenly turn to my partner and say ‘do you know anyone nice…?’ Of course, he doesn’t know anyone nice. Men make five friends at school and keep hold of them for the rest of their lives. All of those men are married. The only single man my boyfriend knows is his barber, and he thinks coronavirus is the government’s way of trying to chip us.”
This news doesn’t surprise me but of course, the Daily Mail makes it seem like the most shocking thing ever. Anyway, it says clinics are reporting rising numbers of women who want to have children without a partner. The number of IVF attempts by women trying to have a baby on their own has gone from 531 in 2008 to 1,352 in 2018. Sally Cheshire, chairman of the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority, says: “In recent years we've seen changes in the reasons why people are using fertility treatment, with the biggest percentage increases among those in female same-sex relationships and single women. The increase... reflects an increasing shift in society's changing attitudes towards family creation and relationships.”
Lockdown curfew: what does this mean for single people and dating?
Here’s something I haven’t considered and that’s what will the fact pubs and restaurants have to now shut at 10pm here mean for those out on dates. As Hollie Richardson says: “Will I be fixated on the time all night? Will it kill the buzz? What if I want that last round because I’m loving the conversation? Why even start something if we can’t go back to one of our flatshares together after the pub closes? What if I just really want that sloppy, wine-infused snog to happen? Ultimately: what’s the bloody point?”
The lowdown
To celebrate both my own birthday and the birthing of this newsletter, I have slashed the cost of the annual membership to The Single Supplement by half for a limited time. That makes it 50p per newsletter, which is an absolute bargain even if I do say so myself. Your support would mean the world to me!
Those who follow me on social media will know I finally formally asked my landlord for permission to get a cat. I still haven’t heard if I can or not but I’m hoping I will soon live up to the “crazy cat lady” single stereotype (more on that soon!). Thanks to everyone for the good luck wishes and especially those who sent pictures of their pets. Pet pictures are always welcome!
If you didn’t know, I have an agony aunt column for paying subscribers of this newsletter. You can take part even if you don’t want to sign up. Just fill out this form with your burning question or problem and pop your email address in as well. After I write the column, I’ll forward it to you. Your identity will be kept totally anonymous in the version subscribers can see.
If you’re a writer (or a budding one) and would love to know how to set up a newsletter of your own and why you should, make sure you sign up for mine and Tiffany Philippou’s next masterclass, which is all about self-publishing. We will also be covering publishing your writing on Medium and blogging. Grab your ticket here.
About me
For those who don’t know, I’m Nicola Slawson, a freelance journalist who lives in Shropshire, UK. If you would like to support what I do, please consider subscribing to be a paid supporter of The Single Supplement. If you would prefer to make a one-off contribution, you can also buy me a coffee, here’s the link to my Ko-Fi page. Follow me on Instagram and Twitter.
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