The Advice I Gave a Fresh Divorcee

A few months ago, someone reached out to me after his divorce became official.

I could hear it in his voice before he even told me what had happened. The silence between his sentences said more than his words ever could.

“I don’t know what to do with myself anymore,” he said.

That sentence stayed with me.

Not because it was unique, but because I remember saying almost the exact same thing years ago. Different words, same pain.

We met a few days later outdoors.

He looked exhausted. Not physically, but emotionally. The kind of exhaustion sleep doesn’t fix. His eyes kept drifting to the table. Every few minutes he’d sigh without realizing it.

For almost an hour, I barely spoke.

He told me everything.

How quickly the marriage fell apart.

How everyone seemed to have picked sides.

How lonely the house felt.

How he kept checking his phone, hoping she’d call—even though he knew she probably wouldn’t.

I didn’t interrupt him. I remembered what it felt like to finally find someone willing to listen instead of offering solutions after five minutes.

When he finally stopped talking, he looked at me and asked the question every fresh divorcee eventually asks.

“Does this feeling ever go away?”

I smiled.

Not because it was a funny question, but because I knew exactly why he was asking it.

He wasn’t asking whether he’d stop missing her. He was asking whether he’d ever feel like himself again.

I told him something I wish someone had told me.

“Don’t make permanent decisions based on temporary pain.”

He looked at me, confused. So I explained.

I told him not to rush into another relationship just to prove he was still lovable.

Not to throw himself into endless work just so he wouldn’t have to think.

Not to drink every weekend hoping the silence would become quieter.

Not to keep checking her social media.

Not to replay every argument looking for one sentence that could have saved the marriage.

I tried almost all of those things and none of them worked.

He laughed when I admitted I once convinced myself that if I could just understand what went wrong, I’d stop hurting.

Years later, I realized understanding and healing aren’t always roommates. Sometimes you get one without the other.

Then I told him something that made him uncomfortable.

“The person you’re mourning isn’t just your ex.”

He frowned and said “What do you mean?”

I answered “You’re grieving the future you imagined.”

I could see the words land. It is true because that’s exactly what divorce steals first.

Not just a relationship, but the future.The holidays you pictured.

The house you planned.

The conversations that never happened.

The children you imagined.

The old version of yourself who believed life would unfold differently.

I remember staring at the empty side of my wardrobe after my divorce. It wasn’t the empty hangers that got to me. It was realizing that everything I thought my future looked like had disappeared without asking for permission.

No one warns you that you’ll grieve possibilities just as much as people.

He nodded slowly.

For the first time that afternoon, he wasn’t trying to speak. He was thinking.

Before we left, I gave him one last piece of advice.

“Don’t spend the next year trying to become who you were before your marriage.”

He looked surprised and asked “Why?”

“Because that person doesn’t exist anymore.” I answered.

Divorce changes you. It has no choice but to. The goal isn’t to recover your old self. It is to discover who you become after surviving something you never wanted to survive.

A few weeks later, he sent me a message. It simply read:

“I almost called her tonight… instead I went for a walk.”

I smiled.

Not because he was healed. He wasn’t even close. But because healing isn’t measured by how quickly you stop hurting. Sometimes it’s measured by the decisions you don’t make while you’re hurting.

Looking back, I don’t know if my advice helped him.Maybe it didn’t. Maybe all he really needed was to sit across from someone who could honestly say, “I’ve been where you are.”

Sometimes advice isn’t powerful because it’s profound.Sometimes it’s powerful because it’s believable. The best advice I could give him wasn’t something I read in a book. It was something I survived.

If you’re reading this as someone whose divorce is still fresh, let me leave you with the same words I left him with.

You don’t have to have your life figured out this month.

You don’t have to pretend you’re okay.

You don’t have to rush your healing just because everyone else thinks you should be over it by now. Just keep choosing tomorrow.

One day, you’ll wake up and realize you no longer count your life as “before the divorce” and “after the divorce.”

You’ll simply call it… your life.

Joseph Abdalla