I got divorced at 52 – don’t stay in a miserable marriage for your kids

Five years ago, a few years divorced and ready for the next stage of post-kids life, I met my new boyfriend. We are happy, and life is good. We think it’s because we are right for each other. Our friends insist it’s because we are “new”. We are just back from a holiday of coastal walks, shanty singers and beer surrounded by empty nester couples of every possible permutation. There were happy re-marrieds with a glint in their eye and a few happy long-term marrieds who still held hands and shared jokes. But there were also an awful lot of unhappy middle-aged couples who looked like they would rather be anywhere else than with the person they chose 30 years ago. (Photo: andresr/Getty).

Nowhere to hide

Some tut, raise their eyebrows, bicker, and show a hint of disdain, but just about manage to make it work. In day-to-day life, they chat to others wherever possible, have separate hobbies of cycling, golf, and stamp collecting versus choir, dance, yoga, and coffee with friends. They rely on the trappings of house, children, shared history and inertia to hold them together as they wait for the grandchildren to arrive. (Oh, and there’s a lot of dogs!) But on holiday, there is no hiding from an unhappy marriage. (Photo: Andrii Iemelyanenko/Getty).

Issues build up

The tutting turns into clear exasperation, bickering becomes anger and the disdain slips into despise as they scowl at each other over their phones, row in the coffee queue, gulp down their fish and chips to quickly get back to their hotel and fail to find any joy in a sea view, cliff walk or local band. Why do these empty nesters stay together even when they are just plain miserable? As a psychologist – and a divorcee – I think I know. (Photo: Daniel de la Hoz/Getty).

Influence of the media

First, there is an awful lot of self-talk – the internal narrative of the miserable. Whether it comes from our parents, novels or 1970’s TV, our generation have a head full of justifications to stay together which all involve a belief in the universality of misery. “Relationships are hard work”, “it’s all about compromise”, “we need to be tolerant” or “it would only be the same with anyone else”. I blame “Butterflies” and the downtrodden Wendy Craig, Mildred and George Roper from “Man about the house” and a sense that we will all end up as Joan Sims rather than Barbara Windsor. Married life was never meant to be happy, and if we aren’t happy that is fine as no one else is either. (Photo: Vladimir Vladimirov/Getty).

Choosing our support networks

Second, we draw upon our biases. We use our confirmation bias and so seek out those around us who support our worldview. When surrounded by equally miserable couples, it confirms that this is the only way, and by comparison, looking across the table at our friend’s irritating husband can make our own seem strangely better. And we ignore any evidence to the contrary dismissing signs of happiness as “it’s all a show”, “who knows what goes on behind closed doors”, “they are new – it will change.” (Photo: Boris_Zec/Getty).

Changing your perspective

When I was married and unhappy, so were most of my friends, which made it manageable – this must be how it is! Now I’m happy, it is surprising how many other happy couples I allow myself to see (although most of them are re-marrieds and new it has to be said). I’ve changed my life and some friends, but I’ve also changed who I look to for a role model of how life can be. We also evoke sunk cost bias, which involves thinking “we have got this far we might as well carry on” and investment in the past seems to justify even more investment in the future. (Photo: Oliver Rossi/Getty).

Waiting for the right time

And we also use our future discounting bias and focus on the practicalities of changing the here and now rather than the possibilities of a better future. In my past life, when I was waiting for the children to grow up and deciding whether it was time to go or stay, I used to picture myself in an open-top car trying to drive through a pile of horse manure to get to a beautiful field of sunflowers. I’d wait for another day when there was less s*** (and the kids were older) and I could face the drive. I could discount the benefits of the field by emphasising the costs of the drive to get there. (Photo: Elena Popova/Getty).

Accepting things are over

Third, we cling onto a misplaced sense of duty, which can sometimes verge into vanity. “I promised to stay” and “I made my vows” are both key to doing the right thing and useful tools to get us over dips, troughs, and the day-to-day niggles of being a couple. We can’t swan out after every disagreement about muddy footprints (yes, they are yours – I don’t stand and face the toilet). But believing “they won’t manage without me”, “they will fall apart” and “I can’t put them through it” is a bit vain and can be problematic if the relationship is really over. (Photo: Peter Dazeley/Getty).

Put yourself first

Life's too short

Once children leave home, it can be hard to find a joint life that works for everyone. This summer, I was happy but saw a lot of couples who were not. Humans are resilient and can generate narratives to justify whatever it is they are doing and our minds can twist and turn to make us feel that our way is the only way. But the clichés are true. Life is short. It’s not a dress rehearsal. It’s often lonelier with the wrong person than being alone. And unless I’m mistaken, there is no fanfare at the end – just a sense of “blimey that went quick. Did I make the most of it?”. (Photo: stevecoleimages/Getty).