What to Say to Someone Going Through a Divorce
You have typed it three times and deleted it three times
The reason is that everything true sounds too heavy and everything light sounds like you do not care.
Here is the thing that unsticks it. You are not being asked to have an opinion on the marriage. You are being asked to still be there on Tuesday. That is a much smaller job and you can definitely do it.
Sixty-odd lines below, sorted by what actually happened. Read the three questions first. They take twenty seconds and they rule out most of the ways this goes wrong.
Three questions before you write anything
1. Who left?
The most important thing on this page and the one nobody checks before typing.
If they were left, they feel discarded. If they did the leaving, they feel guilty, and every “you are better off” lands as an accusation.
Guess wrong and you will never find out, because they will not correct you. They will just quietly file you under people who do not get it.
2. Is it happening, or is it finished?
Mid-process is not funny. Not yet.
Decree absolute, house sold, eight months down the road, and it is very funny indeed. Same friend, same divorce, completely different card. The gap between those two is about six months and getting it wrong by a month is worse than saying nothing.
3. Are there kids?
If there are, delete “you are free”. Delete “fresh start”. Delete all of it.
Somebody who now sees their children four days a fortnight does not feel free and will not enjoy being told they are.
The half of them nobody writes advice for
The whole internet writes divorce advice as though everybody in a divorce got left, and about half of them did not.
The person who ended it is having a worse week than they will admit, because four separate people have told them they have done the brave thing while they lie awake at three in the morning wondering whether they have just blown up their own life for nothing. Being cheerful at that person is not support. It is a nudge.
And about slagging off the ex
You will want to. Sometimes that is exactly right and it is the funniest, most loyal thing available.
But wait to be invited. People say savage things about their own ex and then get oddly protective when somebody else does, and reconciliations happen that nobody saw coming. Follow their lead. If they open that door, walk through it enthusiastically.
The thing that actually helps is not words
Turn up. Bring food. Take the kids to the park on a Saturday.
Say the day. “I am free Tuesday” beats every sentence on this page, and the sentences on this page only exist because you have to write something in the card as well.
When they were the one who got left
- You didn’t fail. You got left. Different words on purpose.
- They made a decision. You’re living in it. Not the same thing.
- Nothing anyone says will make sense for about a month. Say it anyway.
- Nobody’s expecting you to be alright. Certainly not me.
- You were good to them. Hold on to that, it’s true.
- It’s going to be a rubbish year. Then it won’t be.
- Whatever they said on the way out was for their benefit, not yours.
- You will not always feel like this. That’s the only promise going.
When they were the one who left
- You did the hard thing. It won’t feel like it for a while.
- Leaving isn’t the same as not caring. I know which one you did.
- You’ll get called the villain by people who weren’t in the room.
- Second-guessing it at 3am is standard. Doesn’t mean you were wrong.
- You gave it longer than anyone else would have.
- It took you four years to say it. That’s not impulsive.
- I’m on your side and I’m not asking for the reasons.
When there are kids in it
- Nobody’s free when there are kids, so I won’t say it.
- You’re still their dad on the days you don’t see them.
- You’re still their mum on the days you don’t see them.
- Two houses is not a broken home. It’s two houses.
- The Wednesday handover will be grim for a while. It stops being grim.
- You’re doing this properly. They’ll work that out eventually.
- The kids will be fine. You’re the one nobody’s checking on.
- Whatever’s getting split, you’re both still theirs. That bit doesn’t divide.
When you actually liked the ex
Nobody covers this and everybody has had it. Your mate’s marriage ended, you liked both of them, and now the never-liked-them routine is on the table and you would be lying.
Do not lie. Being obviously honest and obviously on their side beats a performance every time.
- I liked them. Not going to pretend I didn’t. Still on your side.
- You lost a marriage, I lost a mate. Mine’s the easy one.
- I’m not doing the never-liked-them routine. You’d know I was lying.
- Two decent people can still make an unbearable marriage.
- I’m not picking a side. I am, however, picking you.
- No slagging off from me. Just the pub, whenever you want.
The funny lane, once it is actually finished
Check the calendar before using any of these. The knife goes at the ex, the solicitors, or the sheer administrative stupidity of the process. Never at them.
- Decree absolute. Frame it or burn it. Your call.
- Congratulations on your expensive new opinion of solicitors.
- Four grand to get your own surname back.
- Half of everything, and they still came out down.
- You’re not single. You’re released.
- Whatever they got in the settlement, they still have to be them.
- The house is smaller and considerably less annoying.
- Sixteen months, two solicitors, one filing cabinet. Worth it.
This is also where our cards live. They say you have lost your better half / Load of bollocks. Or You didn’t lose a husband / You shed 14 stone of dead weight. Both are decree-absolute cards, not week-three cards.
From family
- You’re coming for Sunday dinner. That is not a question.
- Your room’s still there. It’s beige now. Sorry.
- We won’t mention it unless you do.
- We backed you at the wedding, we back you now. Same job.
- Nobody in this family thinks less of you. Nobody.
- Bring the kids. Bring the washing. Bring nothing. Just come.
When you do not know them that well
A colleague, a neighbour, someone at the school gate. You are not owed the story and they are not obliged to give you one.
- I heard. I won’t pry. Coffee’s on me.
- Not going to make you talk about it. Ever.
- I’ve been through it. Ask me anything or ask me nothing.
- Sorry to hear it. That’s genuinely all I’ve got.
- If you want the name of a decent solicitor, I’ve got one.
- I won’t bring it up at work. Ever.
When you cannot be funny about it
- I’m here Tuesday. And the Tuesday after that.
- No reply needed. I just wanted it on your doormat.
- Ask me for the specific thing. I’m useless at guessing.
- Eat something. Sleep. That’s the whole plan for this week.
- This is the worst of it. It genuinely is.
- A year from now this is a story, not a wound.
What about an actual card?
Ours are for the other end of it. The decree came through, the house sold, and somebody is finally in the mood to celebrate.
They are not for week three. If it is week three, use the lines at the top and buy them a curry instead.
Blank inside, so the words above are yours. Printed and posted in the UK.
The cards we print for this
Written for the end of it rather than the middle. Blank inside, printed and posted in the UK.