If you want to make God laugh, share your plans.

I’ve never been one to take things lightly. I meticulously plan, contemplate, and ensure everything is perfectly arranged before proceeding with any decision.

I had envisioned waiting until the end of 2020 to inform my husband about my desire to end our marriage. With the constraints of virtual schooling and the pandemic, I thought it best to keep things under wraps for a while.

However, I turned that plan upside down by sharing my news four months earlier, in August. I suggested we enter a Parenting Marriage, where we could cohabitate for the sake of our children while maintaining financial stability. He could date freely, which seemed like a win-win, right?

Wrong.

Since that summer breakup attempt, life has taken unexpected turns.

My husband cries almost daily and wants to stay together

Why… why would anyone plead repeatedly for months to stay with someone who has chosen to leave?

I anticipated my husband would be upset for a while and then move on. Yet, here we are two months later, and he remains emotionally fragile. I’ve tried everything to uplift him and explain that this change is for the best for everyone.

When he cries, I cry too. I wish I could ease his pain. This was my decision, so I feel I should be the one suffering.

Now, two months in, I find myself almost indifferent to his tears. I realize that makes me seem cold. I’ve come to understand that my empathy has its limits.

Our divorce counselor advised me that all I can say is, "I know, this is really tough right now," and leave it at that.

My kids sensed our misery after the divorce bombshell

It’s commonly believed that children can detect their parents' unhappiness. They pick up on the tension. In our situation, my children were blissfully unaware of any discord, happily living in their own bubble.

We rarely argued in front of them, perhaps once a year, and there was no physical conflict. They preferred us to avoid date nights or overt displays of affection.

But once I disclosed my lack of romantic love for my husband, they noticed the shift. They saw him crying unexpectedly. They overheard our arguments and tense exchanges that would quiet down as soon as they entered the room.

“What are you guys discussing?” they would ask, unwilling to accept vague excuses like “just boring adult talk.” My kids would sit on the bed, eager to hear more of our emotional discussions.

When tensions rise, my son (who is autistic and sensitive to changes) breaks down in tears. He doesn’t want us to separate, even though we avoid using the term "divorce" in our conversations.

He immediately associates any conflict with the possibility of us breaking up, highlighting how rarely we fought in front of him. Disagreements aren’t the norm in our household.

Now, we must work extra hard to maintain composure when the kids are awake. I hadn’t anticipated how challenging it would be to hide the reality of our breakup until we establish a new living arrangement.

He won’t agree to an amicable divorce or ‘Parenting Marriage’

I knew proposing a ‘Parenting Marriage’ was ambitious. We love our children, and considering their unique needs, I assumed my husband would be willing to cooperate to minimize their distress. This meant presenting a united front and treating each other with respect.

The key to successful parenting isn’t a legal document; it’s how the parents interact with one another and their children. My husband, however, disagrees.

He’s grappling with the notion of being amicable after our separation. At one point, he declared he absolutely would not be civil to me post-split. I told him he could express his frustrations behind closed doors, but when the kids are present, he must act maturely and treat me with respect, just as I will do for him. I said, “Do you want to be harsh towards me in front of them? Think about how many years of therapy they might need later!”

I never imagined I’d have to convince him that treating his children’s mother kindly impacts their mental health.

He insists on no dating for years

I didn’t inform my husband that our relationship was over while heading out for my first date. I naively thought he would come to terms with the situation by spring 2021.

When I brought this up, my husband exploded. “You want to start dating before I’m even emotionally ready?” he shouted.

“Well, you’re not dying,” I responded. “But I expect things to settle down by next spring.” That did not go over well.

Since then, I’ve avoided the topic of dating, yet he continues to bring it up. He perceives it as a distraction that would prevent me from focusing on the kids. Beyond the fact that I’m not a lovesick teenager, he doesn’t realize how exhausting it’s been to be unhappy in our marriage and to cry about it in secret for years.

My children aren’t toddlers; they don’t require constant attention. I’ve realized he struggles with letting them gain independence. A 10-year-old doesn’t need their father to entertain them constantly. They don’t require me to hover over them every minute.

Ultimately, my husband holds the upper hand; if I were to show attention to anyone else, he would argue it’s not in the kids’ best interests.

I’m annoyed with my husband, even when he’s pleasant

A few days ago, my husband had a productive one-on-one session with our divorce counselor. The constant crying has significantly decreased (knock on wood). Yet, I still find him intolerable.

Initially, I tried hard to demonstrate that we could coexist peacefully and still engage in family activities without being romantic partners. That’s what we did for years anyway.

When he’s not crying, I can finally recognize my own feelings. I’m realizing I’m a better parent when he’s absent. I’m not competing to be the “Fun Parent,” and I can focus solely on the kids without worrying about his needs.

I can’t share any of this with him because it would undermine our goal of being a supportive co-parenting team. The longer this drags on, the more I contemplate the idea of raising the kids independently while he does the same on his time.

Having my husband around makes me a less effective parent.

Our finances are going downhill before we’ve even split

Divorce inevitably impacts finances, especially in California, where two incomes are often necessary.

I spent more than a year attempting to devise a financial plan for life after divorce. But, as Murphy’s Law suggests, unforeseen circumstances arose before I could even move out.

I encouraged my husband to undergo hair replacement surgery, hoping it would boost his confidence for dating (since part of his daily tears stem from fears of being alone forever). The cost ended up being double what I had expected.

He lamented that he couldn’t date while driving a “dad car,” so I told him he could invest in a better vehicle for himself. I’m literally buying my way out of this marriage.

Then we discovered termites, leading to quotes for tenting and fumigating the house—yet more unexpected expenses.

Our property tax bill arrived, and I suggested we pay it all in the 2020 tax year to avoid complications in filing for 2021 if we’re divorced by then.

Additionally, my insurance doesn’t cover divorce counseling. We’ve only had three sessions, and I’m already needing to forgo other purchases to pay for them. I’d have to write four Medium articles daily just to cover half a month’s worth of sessions.

Recently, I noticed I’ve lost too much weight during the pandemic, and my breast implants are now uneven. Without $20,000 to fix them, I’m resorting to overeating in hopes of gaining enough weight to improve their appearance. The last thing I want is to be single with a poor body image.

Currently, my Divorce Financial Plan consists of paying my husband to stop crying, finding multiple side hustles, and consuming excessive amounts of butter.

All divorce negativity is on me to endure

Marriage is a partnership, but ending one is not. All the painful aspects of this breakup are mine to bear. It’s my responsibility to sleep in the spare room, to move out, to spend less time with the kids, and to refrain from dating for what feels like an eternity.

I believed that since I didn’t blame him for our marriage’s end and framed it as “we both contributed to this situation,” we could jointly share the discomfort. I was mistaken. The one who initiates the separation ends up bearing the burden.

I discovered after requesting the end of our marriage that there is a price to pay for being the one to ask.

I feel more trapped than before

I reached my breaking point in August, stating that I wanted to end our relationship, as I felt suffocated by the walls closing in around me.

With homeschooling and financial limitations confining me to the same house (along with my desire to keep the kids in a stable environment), I feel as though I’ve constructed a prison of my own making.

Everything I do is scrutinized. Every move is questioned. When I wear makeup before heading to the store, is it because I’m attempting to attract male shoppers while 99% of my face is covered by a mask?

I yearn to start anew, yet I find myself waiting in my room for my husband to consent to the end of our marriage. I feel entrapped.

My self-esteem has soared

Amid the chaos that followed my decision to end the romantic aspect of our marriage, my self-esteem has unexpectedly risen.

Becoming my true self (why do I feel like Oprah benefits every time that phrase is mentioned?) has lifted the facade that surrounded me. After years of my husband not recognizing my sexuality, I now look in the mirror and think that at least someone else will find me attractive. I’m excited to wear stylish outfits without fearing snide remarks or awkward comments.

There’s a liberating feeling in knowing I no longer have to pretend or mask who I am. Whoever I meet will get the genuine me. I’m sarcastic, unapologetically honest, and I can take playful teasing just as easily as I dish it out. I no longer fear rejection or feel inferior to younger women. There’s a thrill in the thought of lavishing affection on someone who appreciates me for who I am.

Conversely, I no longer dread solitude. Spending time alone is now my idea of a perfect Saturday night, rather than catering to my husband’s whims.

These days, my tears come from heartbreak and worries about my children, rather than feelings of self-loathing and disgust. Since August, that burden has finally lifted.

Each day is uncertain. I’m planning as best as I can for the end of my marriage, even while feeling blindfolded. My divorce counselor and various books guide me, while I mentally hum along to Elsa’s “Into the Unknown” (though sadly, no new hairstyle, white dress, or water horse accompanies this divorce).

Resilience and determination are my tools for survival after expressing my desire to leave my marriage. They are all I have as I navigate this uncharted territory.