A Year of Change: Divorce, Moving Out, and Rediscovering Life

A lot has changed since January 2024 when Heather and I first spoke the word "divorce." If someone had told me then what the next year would bring, I would have laughed it off in disbelief.

Over the course of 2024, we navigated every imaginable phase of the divorce process—slowing down, speeding up, questioning everything. Then, in January 2025, a series of events made it clear that, while difficult, it was time to take the next step and for me to move out of our shared home. The timing wasn’t perfect—it was still a hard transition, full of uncertainty and emotional weight. It was not easy—it tested our emotional limits, stretched our resources, and demanded more time than we expected. 

I had been searching for an apartment since the summer, but nothing seemed to work out—either the location wasn’t right, the budget was off, or the timing wasn’t ideal. Then, between January 27th and 29th, I toured five apartments that met my criteria. The first four were fine but didn’t feel right. Then, on the morning of the 29th—an early Wednesday—I toured the last one, and this time, I brought Heather with me.

The moment I stepped onto the property, I felt at peace. Everything about the complex just felt right.

By the time I got back to Heather’s house, I had submitted my application. That same afternoon, I was approved—with one condition: if I signed the lease the very next day, I’d receive a discount on my monthly rent for the next 12 months. So, I did exactly that.

As I was signing my lease, Heather had a job interview with the school district. By the end of her first interview, she was offered the job—a moment that was both exciting and bittersweet as she navigated the challenges of becoming a single mom and re-entering the workforce after years of building a life she thought would last forever.

That was when I told my local family members: I was moving out on Saturday. I asked for help, and my little room at Heather’s house quickly became a maze of boxes, packing tape, and last-minute preparations. The kids had known this was coming for months and had been preparing for the transition. Within hours of telling them the official move-out date, they were already claiming my old room.

The Emotional Weight of Moving Out

The transition has been… everything. Heavy, smooth, exhilarating, heartbreaking. A flood of emotions, all at once.

Somehow, as I sit here recounting the last month and a half, I marvel at how we made it through.

That first weekend in my new place was rough. I was a mess.

Walking through the grocery store to buy basic food items, I suddenly felt the urge to break down in the middle of the aisle. Grief. Not just for the marriage but for all the could-have-beens and would-have-beens. And yet, I knew—I knew—I couldn’t walk back into the closet just to preserve an illusion of stability. If we could change anything, it would be living in a world where I had always felt safe to be my true self, free from the fear that kept me hidden for so long. That wasn’t fair to anyone.

I missed my kids. So much. Going from seeing them every day to just weekends was a huge adjustment. Thank goodness for FaceTime, Marco Polo, and an occasional surprise visit during the week. 

During those first two weeks, I made extra trips to Heather’s house—helping with the kids, sorting out lingering household issues. One highlight? Dropping my oldest off after a birthday party only to find my dad and brothers digging up Heather’s front yard to fix a plumbing issue. It was raining. It was cold. It was very, very muddy.

Growth, Separation, and Unexpected Lessons

One of the hardest parts of this journey has been figuring out how to maintain relationships with family and friends who have only known us as a couple. We spent over a decade building a life together, and to many people, that’s who we still are. But now, as we try to redefine our relationship—not as spouses, but as friends and co-parents—we sometimes feel like we exist in a space that others don’t quite know how to navigate.

Some friends have been incredibly supportive, walking with us through the grief, the changes, and the uncertainty. Others don’t know what to say, or maybe they worry about choosing sides, even though there are no sides to take. Heather and I are both still here, still deeply connected, still raising our kids together—just in a different way.

There’s also a fear of being misunderstood. For me, it’s the fear that people will only see the end of our marriage and not the years I spent trying to be someone I wasn’t. For Heather, it’s the heartbreak of having built her life around dreams she believed in, only to have everything shift in a way she never saw coming. We are both grieving, just in different ways.

At the end of the day, we’re doing our best to move forward while still honoring the past. We’re learning who we are separately while still valuing what we had together. It’s complicated, it’s messy, but it’s also filled with moments of understanding.

A New Chapter: Parenting Apart

This separation has also made Heather and me better parents. We’re more present with the kids, more intentional. Each of us has created routines that work best in our individual homes, and somehow, it’s making everything flow better.

Sunday nights still feel strange after I drop the kids off at Heather’s house. But I’m grateful. Grateful for the weekends I have with them, grateful for the chance to create moments that truly matter.

Embracing the Unknown

One of the biggest lessons we’ve learned through both the divorce process and deconstructing our faith is the identity crisis that comes with it. Divorce isn’t just about separating assets or homes—it’s about figuring out who you are outside of the life you built together. It’s the awkwardness of how to introduce yourself at social events, where you fit into family gatherings, and how to navigate friendships that were once built as a couple.

There’s a lot to process. The best advice I’ve received came from my sister-in-law and cousin, who reached out and simply said, "Tell me how things are going—really, everything." That question, that openness, was a breath of fresh air. It reminded me that even in moments of uncertainty, being seen and heard can help us regain our sense of self.

There are still so many lessons we’re learning and processing. Some days, it feels like we are making progress, finding our footing in this new reality. Other days, the weight of it all catches up, and we’re reminded of just how much has changed.

But for now? I’m here, adjusting, growing, and taking it one step at a time.