How I Refused to Let My Anxiety Win During My Divorce

I made my way through the last of the parents walking into my children’s school. Inside, most had already taken their seats. They were the parents, moms and dads, who had likely funneled inside the moment the doors opened to get the best possible glimpse of their child once they took the stage. Days earlier, although I am not sure how many because I was already in a haze by then, I would have been one of them. On this particular day, it took every bit of my strength to walk the three blocks I needed to, all the while dreading what would await me at my destination.

As I suspected, I saw what I had anticipated — my old life. Not old-old, as in years past, but hours old, minutes actually, if I had been so inclined to count them. The recent turn of events was still so fresh that I could have. A friend’s husband greeted me as I walked in with a “Hi, Stacey.” I forced a smile in return. I think. Again, I am not certain.

I kept moving toward my destination. “I am the mother,” I muttered under my breath. I must be here, no matter what. I am the mother. I. Am. The. Mother. Somehow I will get through the next hour. I have to. I just do.

Scanning the room, I saw most of the seats were already taken, so I stood in the back, as far back as possible, just short of being in the lobby. I could hear the intermittent sound of string instruments in the distance as restless students prepared for the assembly. Closer to me, I overheard parents chattering, laughing about something or other, and what I assumed could only be trivial nonsense compared to the noise going on in my mind: He’s cheating on me. He left me for another woman. He’s never coming home.

As the sound of the parents got louder and louder, so did the memory of my husband’s words. “When I am with you, I feel like I am cheating on her.” Then, “I need to see this through.” “This” being his new relationship.

I looked around the room for my fourth grader. When I finally saw her sitting along the wall with some of her classmates, I walked up to her. I still remember how sweet and innocent she looked, sitting patiently with her violin on her lap. She looked up at me and smiled as I stood in front of her, trembling.

“I have to leave,” I blurted out, barely holding back my tears. “I can’t stay. I feel too sick.”

My daughter looked back at me with her big, beautiful brown eyes and said, “It’s OK, Mommy.”

I think she meant it, too. Could a 9-year-old possibly understand what I was going through?

With what I took as her blessing, I hurried out of the auditorium, passing those other “happy” parents on my way.

That little girl is 18 years old now. I have discussed the day with her on several occasions, and, fortunately, she has no recollection of it. None. I wish I could say the same. Instead, it is a moment etched into my mind with razor blade precision. I am grateful she doesn’t experience the same pangs of guilt and pain I do, although today I know I shouldn’t blame myself. I likely had a panic attack. Understandable, given the stress I suddenly found myself under — my marriage was over, and I was on the verge of divorce.

According to the Center for Treatment of Anxiety and Mood Disorders, I am not alone. They state: “With more couples divorcing on a regular basis, there are plenty of test studies to support the U.S. Surgeon General’s claim that 30 to 40 percent of those undergoing divorce experience a significant increase in the symptoms of depression and anxiety.” It’s not hard to see why. As the Center explains further, although any life change can cause anxiety, divorce presents a unique set of anxiety-inducing circumstances. In addition to self-esteem and insecurity issues arising from the dissolution of a marriage, either spouse may question whether they will find another relationship again and how they will support themselves financially. If there are children involved, separation anxiety may also play a part.

When all of those worries come crashing in, it can be overwhelming, which is how I felt that day at my daughter’s school. And why, as soon as I got home, I began looking for a therapist. I recognized I couldn’t win this fight alone.

After some trial and error, I found the right fit. As I faced my anxiety and depression head-on — allowing myself to mourn the end of my marriage while using coping strategies to get through each minute, hour and eventually, day — I began feeling better. I surrounded myself with a strong support system, adding new friends and saying goodbye to others who no longer fit my new life and mindset. I embarked on a career that I love.

I still have my moments when I feel anxious or depressed, and I take those as they come. No one ever said life, or marriage, was going to be easy, and I get that now. The road I’ve been on has been a long, hard one, but one I am better for having traveled.