My Life Was Complete, Now What? Entering the Void Following Divorce

Fear or Anguish

People often express a sense of fear while struggling through a divorce or trying to rebuild a life after divorce. Regardless of how you experienced your marriage, regardless if you asked for the divorce or not, your role as wife or husband was known to you and in that knowing might have felt complete. This life that once felt complete now feels undone. Faced with the idea of a life past, the unknown future presents us with a void. The experience of being in that void can produce intense emotions, which are often labeled as fear. 

I propose that often these emotions are not fear; rather, these are feelings of anguish. Looking to the existentialist philosopher Jean Paul Sartre, we find he makes an important distinction between fear and anguish. He also points out the difficulty which comes from viewing our lives as “complete” in the first place. According to Sartre “fear” is something external; it is a threat outside of me somewhere in the world. If I’m walking down the road and see a boulder precariously balanced above me I feel fear. The rock is something outside of me which is threatening, as there is a possibility of it falling on my head. This is not an accurate description of our experience in the void. While a rock falling on our head or threatening to fall on our head may seem an appropriate metaphor, there is no actual rock. The feelings within the void are largely based on internal rather than external influences.

Anguish, Sartre tells us, is different from fear. It develops when I have several options and none are pre-determined. Anguish comes from not knowing what to pick in a vast sea of choices. In fear, I am passive to the mercy of things in the world such as a falling rock. In anguish, I am called to take action. I am called to make decisions in a new world of possibilities. Anguish comes from the presentation of many choices and the uncertainty in which ones to make. In this way, anguish is an emotion derived from an internal process. 

Why make this distinction? Isn’t this a matter of semantics? So what if it isn’t fear? Whereas it might seem a trivial notion, naming our emotions builds a powerful awareness which can ease change and promote growth. Have you ever had an unknown physical pain and feel a great sense of relief in finding an accurate label for that pain? The relief comes from knowing what the pain is. The pain is identifiable; it is a common pain in that others have experienced it. Identifying and naming our pain, whether it is physical or emotional, allows us the capability of deciding the best direction to take. It gives us a flashlight to see into the void so we can begin our journey.

In addition to gaining awareness, accurately defining our emotions strengthens our ability to educate those close to us so that they may be better able to lend effective support. If others believe we are fearful in the rock-over-our-head kind of way, they may become impatient with the continued intensity of our emotions. They might inquire, “I don’t understand why you are still feeling fearful when the rock is no longer there?”  

Managing the void: How to not-be-complete

While you may have imagined no longer being a wife or a husband while married, you did not have to make that decision each day, for that’s the role you held. Now, for better or for worse, you are no longer in the role of wife or husband. So now who are you? Assuming a role can lend a sense of completeness, being without a role can feel uncomfortably incomplete. It is in our nature to strive towards completeness. One of the greatest sources of gaining this sense is in our relationships, particularly marriage. Our language identifies this comfort in popular phrases such as “[s]he completes me!” When feeling unraveled, the desire may be to hurry up and find that sense of completeness.

I suggest resisting this urge, or at least reconsidering it. Again, I turn to Sartre and his ideas of completeness. Sartre states we cannot ever be something because “identity is something we make, it is not something we are.” (Guignon & Pereboom, 1995). He believed a person can never truly become complete and the thought of one day becoming complete would limit his or her freedom. The idea of freedom for Sartre was both a blessing and a curse, stating humans are “condemned to be free” (Guignon & Pereboom, 1995). Here he is describing the back and forth between our desire to gain a sense of completeness and the fact that we are always more than our identified role. There is something quite knowable about being a wife or a husband. While there are personal differences between families, we have a general sense of these roles and their function. Sometimes society demands us to be no more than the role we assume. However, a wife is not a wife as a car is a car. A husband is not a husband as a dish is a dish. Humans are always more than our roles and identities. Unlike a car that is limited in its function, we are not restricted to the functions of our role.   

You may be feeling your identity, your role, and the accompanying sense of completeness was ripped out from under you; maybe it feels stolen. The irony Sartre is suggesting is that in our search for completeness we tend to view ourselves as being an identity, like a car is a car. However, you were always more than your identity as a wife or a husband. Because your former role and the associated identity was something you made and not what you were, it is not an object which can be taken. Rather, you will make another identity. You will always be more than your new identity and it is in this “more than” that you will never be complete. It is in this “more than” where freedom is always found. Viewing not-being-complete as your access to freedom may lend some solace in a time of uncertainty.   

Sources: Guignon, C. & Pereboom D. ed. 1995. Existentialism: Basic Writings Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Heidegger, Sartre. Hackett Publishing Company, Inc., Indianapolis.