Embracing the Beauty of Impermanence: Rethinking the Notion of ‘Forever’ Following Divorce
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In those dark first days of my separation, I felt it was best to just try to get through every single minute. At first, I would sit on my bed or on the floor for most of the day, trying to stay calm and pull myself together. But it wasn’t easy. Taking it one moment at a time seemed to stretch the day out into infinity, and some moments were better than others — emotions peaked and then subsided, but at least I knew that after the hard minutes there would inevitably be a few more minutes when I seemed to experience a sense of radiant calm. In the days and weeks that followed, those good minutes gradually turned into hours, then the good hours turned into days, and finally, a few months after the whole surprising challenge began, there were weeks when I felt confident and in control again, before the voice of doubt and sadness temporarily crept back in. But each time the depression and sense of failure came back it was shorter and less intense, a clear reminder to me that the healing process was underway and that what had felt like an insurmountable challenge not so long ago was now simply a fact of life that had less and less influence on the rhythm of my moods.
We have been conditioned to believe that the value of a relationship is measured by its longevity, that its success is determined solely by its ability to stand the test of time. Heteronormativity plays an important role in shaping societal expectations in this regard. Until recently our culture has privileged heterosexual relationships, often at the expense of the visibility and permissibility of queer relationships. In a relationship, we are told, time is supposed to stand still in a sense, as if the journey of a lifetime suddenly comes to an end the day you get married or make your long-term commitment. But relationships and break-ups can do interesting things to time, stretching or shortening individual moments and easily making us lose touch with the present moment, the here and now. Whether during a relationship or afterwards, our sense of time can change radically when our lives have become intertwined with another.
But what if we dared to question the idea that a relationship is meant to last forever? What if we changed our perspective and embraced the beauty of impermanence, recognising that a relationship — whether it lasts one night, six months, or six years — can bring moments of great joy that we should appreciate for what they are without expecting them to last forever? In our society, the end of a relationship is often seen as a failure, a sign of defeat that tarnishes our self-esteem. In the realm of gay relationships, there is a unique burden of failure and shame that often weighs heavily on our hearts. While the journey of love is fraught with ups and downs for people of all orientations, gay people face additional challenges due to societal pressures and cultural dynamics. When this happens to us, we carry around this burden of shame and internalise the belief that if a relationship does not last forever, we must be inherently flawed. But is not it better to celebrate what was than to mourn what could have been? In this chapter we embark on a journey of self-forgiveness and acceptance, letting go of the burden of failure and embracing the profound wisdom that relationships, whatever their duration, can hold.
Relationships are multi-faceted, intricate dances of connection, growth and transformation that are relational by nature and therefore based on a complex dynamic that occurs between two people, only one of whom we can ever truly know. Growing up in a society that stigmatises non-heterosexual orientations, many gay people internalise negative beliefs about themselves. We struggle with feelings of shame, self-doubt and even self-hatred. These internalised issues can seep into our relationships and make it difficult for us to fully accept ourselves and our partners. Relationships enter our lives, each with their own purpose and timing: some are meant to last a lifetime, while others serve as catalysts for personal growth, brief but impactful encounters that leave an indelible impression on our souls. And that’s okay. It’s more than okay, it’s beautiful.
Statistics remind us that most marriages don’t last forever. Nearly half of all marriages end in divorce, which is perhaps a surprising statistic when we’re taught from a young age that marriage is forever. For gay people, the formal and legal arrangements of marriage are still very much new rights, and like many gay people my age, I quickly fell into the fantasy of eternal happiness, which for previous generations was an impossibility for many reasons, but now a dream and a wish I could cling to. The reality is that life is a series of chapters, and every relationship we enter into has the potential to be a chapter — sometimes longer, sometimes shorter — in our grand story. It’s time that we free ourselves from the pressure to conform to societal expectations and embrace the notion that relationships have their own natural lifespan. It’s time that we free ourselves from the chains of eternity and learn to appreciate the wonderful moments that relationships give us, regardless of their duration.
Growth and development are never linear, and what once nurtured our souls may no longer align with our present selves. By forgiving ourselves for the end of our marriage, we can step into our humanity and accept that we’re imperfect beings learning and stumbling on the complicated tapestry of life. As the days turn into weeks and months, we instead embrace the lessons we have learned, the growth we have experienced and the memories we cherish. We embody a multitude of identities, and acknowledging and validating these different aspects of our identities is crucial to addressing the unique issues we face.
Acceptance becomes our guiding star on this part of our journey. We accept that relationships are a deep source of joy, connection and discovery, even if they’re short-lived. We recognise that not every relationship is meant to last forever, but that doesn’t diminish its importance. We learn to let go of the need for control and the clinging to outcomes and instead surrender to the flow of life’s intricate dance.
Through this change of perspective, we regain our power. We no longer define success by the length of a relationship, but by the growth and understanding it provides. We celebrate the connections we have made, the love we have shared and the lessons we have learned. We understand that the value of a relationship isn’t in its ending, but in the transformative journey it takes us on. Let’s embrace the beauty of impermanence and honour the ebb and flow of relationships in life. Through self-forgiveness and acceptance, we create space for healing, growth and deep self-discovery. And in doing so, let’s allow ourselves to truly enjoy the richness and complexity of the relationships we encounter, whether for a day or forever.
The lack of role models and support is another obstacle we face. Positive representation and guidance are essential for successful relationship building. Unfortunately, the lack of visible gay role models for much of history led to many of us growing up and perhaps still feeling unseen and unheard. Embracing our authentic selves, challenging societal norms, addressing internalised homophobia, honouring our intersectional identities and fostering supportive networks are important steps towards creating a more inclusive and affirming environment for our relationships. Let us strive together for a future where homosexual relationships are celebrated, accepted and valued without the burden of failure and shame.
Marriage equality has been a long and rocky road. The landmark decisions and laws that paved the way for same-sex marriage have had a profound impact on the divorce process for LGBTQ+ couples. They’re a testament to the victory of love over discrimination and a cause for celebration. But let’s not forget that the legal niceties of divorce still apply. But let’s face it, not all love stories have fairytale endings, and divorce is a reality that follows many marriages, regardless of gender or sexuality. Let’s take a walk through the important but often forgotten history of queer breakups, losses and pain.
The biblical King David had a deep bond with Jonathan that many scholars have interpreted as romantic. When Jonathan died tragically in battle, David was inconsolable, and in the Book of Samuel, David’s lament for Jonathan is a poignant expression of grief that illustrates the depth of their connection and the pain of their separation. In 2nd century CE Rome, Emperor Hadrian was deeply in love with his partner Antinous, who tragically drowned in the Nile. Devastated by the loss, Hadrian founded a cult in honour of Antinous to preserve his memory. He channelled his grief into building magnificent monuments, such as the famous Temple of Antinous in Rome, as a tribute to his beloved. Let that sink in. A Roman emperor founded an actual cult after the death of his longterm boyfriend.
In more recent history, Oscar Wilde experienced devastating loss and betrayal and eventually channelled his emotions into De Profundis, which he wrote while imprisoned in his cell at Reading Goal. This heartfelt and introspective work deals with his pain, reflects on his relationship and explores themes of forgiveness, redemption and personal growth. It is still a difficult and emotional read. The famous French writer Marcel Proust had a long-term relationship with Alfred Agostinelli, a chauffeur and aspiring actor. Their relationship eventually ended, causing Proust’s deep anguish and sense of loss, which was reflected in his later works. Proust’s writings often dealt with themes of love, longing and the complexity of human relationships, and his own experiences of separation probably influenced his profound insights into the human condition.
The world of gay male relationships has not always been a fairy tale, and we are among the youngest generation of those who have loved and lost. While marriage equality was not even imaginable for the likes of Wilde, Tchaikovsky or Proust, the pain of loss they felt reminds us that even though we have set out to walk down the aisle and say ‘yes’, we are still part of a shared queer cultural history marked by the devastating effects of separation. Speaking of literal fairy tales: did you know that The Little Mermaid is literally about gay separation? Hans Christian Andersen’s personal life was marked by a series of intense, often unrequited emotional attachments to men, to whom he wrote passionate letters expressing deep emotional relationships.
The Little Mermaid, which Andersen wrote after learning that one of the men he loved was getting married, is a poignant allegory for unrequited love and sacrifice. The tale tells the story of a young mermaid who falls in love with a human prince and makes a Faustian bargain with a sea witch to gain legs in exchange for her voice. The mermaid’s unrequited love, her longing to be part of the human world, and her ultimate sacrifice for the prince’s happiness are themes that resonate strongly with Andersen’s possible personal struggles and desires. The longing for unattainable love and the sacrifices made in the face of societal expectations are recurring themes in Andersen’s works. These themes have parallels with the experiences of many LGBTQ+ individuals who have to contend with societal norms and hide their true identities. Andersen’s own possible struggles with his sexuality may have shaped his empathetic understanding of the mermaid’s longing for love and acceptance. The mermaid’s transformation and her sacrifice in pursuit of her love may reflect Andersen’s own struggles with societal norms and the suppression of his true self. The bittersweet ending of the fairy tale, where the mermaid dissolves into foam but is given an immortal soul, can be seen as a metaphorical representation of the sacrifices LGBTQ+ individuals often have to make in their pursuit of personal fulfilment and happiness.
So you are not alone in all this! That is the most important thing to remember. Well, it’s the second most important thing to remember. Let just recap the important things: 1) these times, even though they feel really really hard, will definitely pass and things will get better, and 2) even if you feel isolated and alone, like no one else knows what you are going through, you are definitely not alone, you are part of a living queer history of separation and loss and a generational participant in the experience of divorce after the comparatively recent arrival of marriage equality. Since these two points are absolutely true, it is important to emphasise the importance of self-forgiveness and acceptance in the healing process after a break-up. The burden of failure and shame that comes with the end of a relationship can be enormous — was it my fault, what could I have done differently, when did it all go wrong? — and while a later part of your journey through divorce will give you the opportunity to reflect openly and honestly on the role you played in the break-up, now is simply the right time to let go of those burdens and embrace personal growth.
Relationships are multi-faceted and although humanity has been trying for millennia to really get to the bottom of what makes relationships work, there is still a lot we do not understand precisely because a relationship is a unique alchemy between two people. It is a dynamic journey of connection, growth and change. No matter how long a relationship lasts, they always have the potential to shape us in profound ways and leave lasting impressions.
On my journey through divorce, I spent a lot of time reflecting on the first time I met my ex-husband. A Tinder message I had left unanswered and uninterested, but then after some time was persuaded to meet him for a drink at the French House in Soho, an iconic if somewhat random venue at the meeting point of London’s gay and theatre district. I accidentally spilled a large glass of red wine all over his shirt, but despite that unfortunate start, it felt like an instant match and I would spend the next seven years of my life with him. Seven years later, I imagined how things would have been different if I had never replied and we had never met. For a moment, the idea seemed refreshing — if we had never met, I would not be faced with the profound heartbreak that I was experiencing. But over time, that idea began to change and I began to realise that despite the end of my marriage, I did not have to wish it had never happened. I was able to acknowledge the happy moments and memories despite the pain that the end of the marriage had caused, and ultimately it was my willingness to forgive myself that enabled me to do so.
This kind of acceptance is a path to personal growth and resilience. Once you have moved past the difficult stages of the Kubler-Ross change curve — shock, denial, anger, bargaining and depression — the opportunity to cultivate acceptance presents itself. And it can be a fuller and richer kind of acceptance than you imagine. I had to accept that my marriage was over, that there were pleasant memories to hold on to with a gentle grip, and at the same time accept that my future held bright new possibilities. Surprisingly, that was the easy part. The harder part, which dragged on for months after the divorce and is the reason I so often talk about the ‘journey’ of divorce rather than just a moment of change or transition, was accepting myself. Relationships shape and mould us in unexpected ways as we engage in a strange dance of feelings and behaviours to come into alignment with the other. Many relationships can help us grow into our authentic selves, but even in the best and healthiest relationships, we may lose parts of ourselves or sequester parts of ourselves that we keep trying to push away.
Just as relationships are dynamic and constantly changing, so are the parts of ourselves that we show to the outside world. Each new challenge or opportunity gives us the opportunity to reflect on who we show to the outside world and to recognise that impermanence and celebrating moments of connection and joy are crucial elements of life. If we accept that everything changes — relationships, other people, ourselves — what are we to do? How do we find our footing in such a rocky landscape? Well, we can learn to live in the present moment, the only time we really have. The past has already passed and exists for us in the form of memories and musings (for example, I imagine how my life would be different if I had never met my ex-husband, even though the past is a foreign country and what has happened has happened), and the future is not yet here and can only lead to anxiety if we spend too much time and attention on it. Learning to accept our completed relationship and learning to accept ourselves again is the first step in learning to accept the present moment, whatever it may bring.
Don’t get me wrong, the journey of divorce is a messy, weepy, shouty experience, and as the previous chapter pointed out, leaning into and give presence to all of these emotions is absolutely essential, but when the frenetic noise and confusion subside, new moments of connection, love and happiness emerge in perhaps unexpected ways. The comfort of friends, the ease of solitude, the opportunity of tomorrow — all these and more are the subtle clues that remind us that there can be immense joy and pleasure in every moment if we allow ourselves to reconnect with our present and the now.
Letting go of the burden of failure was a profound release for me. At first it felt like I was the sole cause of our breakup (hint: I was not). The journey of healing is not linear, it is a process of growth and discovery, a process that requires continued patience, self-assertion and support from those around you. You are now entering the chrysalis phase, a time of reflection and contemplation before returning to the stage in your own time as the vibrant, unique and authentic butterfly that you are!
A powerful exercise based on MBCT principles that can benefit gay men in relationships is Love-Kindness Meditation (LKM). LKM is about directing feelings of love, compassion and benevolence towards oneself and others. This practise can help cultivate self-acceptance, empathy and a sense of connection in relationships. To practise LKM, find a quiet and comfortable place. Close your eyes and imagine a person who loves and supports you unconditionally. Visualise this person’s presence and silently repeat phrases like, “May you be happy, may you be healthy, may you live with ease.” Apply this loving kindness to your expartner as well, visualising them in your mind’s eye and repeating similar phrases for their well-being. Finally, extend the scope of your loving-kindness to all beings and send wishes for happiness, health and ease to the whole world. Regular practise of LKM can contribute to a positive emotional atmosphere in your relationship and increase overall well-being.
The journey through separation and divorce is complex and challenging, a rollercoaster of emotions and self-reflection. However, it is important to remember that healing is possible and that the end of a relationship does not define our worth or our ability to love. By embracing the beauty of impermanence and letting go of societal expectations, we can find comfort in the moments of joy and growth that relationships bring, regardless of their duration. Through self-forgiveness, acceptance and the support of a community, we can walk the path of healing and emerge stronger, ready to embrace the richness and complexity of future relationships. Remember that you are not alone on this journey and that your experiences are part of a shared queer cultural history that includes stories of love, loss and resilience.
