how to get divorced in thirty days

on how you can but also you can't

No fault, uncontested. It’s the quickest and cheapest way. Four emails to a lawyer, one google sheet allocating assets titled “we’re having the best divorce ever!” two one hour phone calls, $750 filing fee, three signatures, fifteen days on a judge’s desk so everyone can “have a think,” one more signature, one email confirmation, forward it to him too, and just like that your eleven year relationship is dissolved. The judge even fast tracked it, you never had kids, “easy case.”

No fault. At least legally. There’s where you landed: “our dynamic does not allow us to functionally grow together anymore, and growing together is kinda the point of continuing together.” That’s not anyone’s fault. People change, and sometimes the catalysts and rates and vectors break the relationship. Then there’s the process that got you there, riddled with faults, plenty of your own, and you know this.

Uncontested. At least legally. There’s where you landed: “even split, you take the illiquid assets, I take the liquid ones.” You’ve both always been pragmatic when it comes to money, why spend 10% of your walk-away-with wealth and a year of fighting just to pretty much split it evenly anyways? Then there’s the process that got you there, involving contested reality, contested character, contested values, contested family, and a contested kitchen table.

“How long ago did you get divorced?” You get asked this a lot, but you’re never sure how to answer it. 5 months ago, at least legally. This seems to be how people who have never been married prefer to measure it. People who have been married ask when the intensive counseling started (2 years ago) and when the intensive counseling stopped (1 year ago). People who have been divorced ask when screening lawyers started (14 months ago) and when the grieving stopped (6 months ago). You’re asking when it actually ends.

You’ve always said weddings are the best because it’s the only time everyone you’ve ever loved is in the same room, except for your funeral, but at least you’re not there for all that celebratory sadness. Divorces are the opposite - a private, quiet and lonely death buried in paperwork and statements instead of flowers and soliloquies, and everyone you’ve ever loved is thick-tounged sad, and all you can do is watch it. But the most disorienting part about getting divorced is that it changes every relationship in your life. Your marriage ended, but your life is slowly working out how to stay together.

There’s the family dynamics that break: his sister stopped calling you on Wednesdays while leaving volleyball practice. There’s the family dynamics that bleed: he was no longer a groomsman in your brother’s wedding, but he was still your brother’s first call when the best man got into a bad car crash on the wedding day, and he was the first one to get to the hospital. There’s the family dynamics that bash on: he and your dad still lead a bible study together every Monday, and you’re still a sermon illustration, and not in a good way.

There’s the friends close enough to experience grief: start separate group chats, cancel the vacations, cry with me on the phone, cry with him on the phone. There’s the friends close enough to hold your grief: spam the group chats with memes, plan new vacations, let you process out loud. There’s the friends you call to loop in, and there’s the friends you’ll probably never call again because they’re more his. There’s the eleven friends you had to friendzone.

There’s the people who hear about it and reach out in kindness: “heartbreaking news, here for you if you need anything at all.” There’s the people who hear about it and reach around with commentary: “that was fast” surmising the slowest two years of your life. There’s the people in r/divorce who you reach out to with questions: “how long did you wait before you started dating?” “anything you would do differently?” “what was your process for individuation and relational exploration post divorce?” (everyone says wait a year, not a single soul actually did).

There’s how it makes you discover your evolving relationship to your basic needs — time/money/mind/spirituality/work/play/sex/vulnerability as escape/connection/discovery.

Then there’s you, how it changes your relationship to yourself. Divorce introduces tension into everything you care about, and there’s only one person experiencing all that tension with you — you. That much tension can make everything feel uncomfortable, which is natural to conflate with problem. You’ve always figured out creative ways to solve your problems, or more accurately, resolve your tensions. But you’re learning that some problems are better solved with time, and some tensions are worth holding for a time. You’re learning how to be with every part of yourself and your experience in time. Sometimes, you’re letting yourself enjoy it.

Because you know the truth: there will come a time where the chasms between two years, one year, five months, and today flatten into past. There will come a time when people ask you present, interesting questions again. There will come a time where problems, solutions, tensions, escapes, mistakes, and insights connect across your smile lines. After all, connection is always a function of time, and for the first time in your life, you’re spending so much time with you. You’re taking out your own trash, you’re dancing alone in the living room, you’re buying a backscratcher, you’re throwing lifesavers on the ceiling and catching them in your mouth as they drop. Because divorce ends with you, alone. Whenever you’re done with the tension, whenever it’s done with you.