Reflections on Identity

Is Giving up the Family Home Harder Than Giving up the Marriage?

When your forevers come to an end

When my decades-long marriage ended four years ago, I wasn’t thinking about where I would live. I was in shock; practicalities took a backseat — which, in and of itself is shocking, for I am nothing if not a practical woman.

Eight months after learning of my husband’s affair, I told him I wanted a divorce. He assured me that I could stay in our family home. I was naive, and not just because I believed him. During our marriage, we had divided our responsibilities into neat categories: cooking, cleaning, childcare, and managing the home were mine, paying for it all was his.

It had worked well enough, but not so well that we didn’t often find fault in how the other person performed their job and bicker as a result. I wanted him to help me, but that was not his job. I urged him to spend money more cautiously, but having a say in finances was not my job. As long as we each stayed in our own lane, we coexisted peacefully. We were the model 1950s couple, except that it was the 2000s.

My husband paid the bills and told me what I could spend on big-ticket items. I was frugal, so he didn’t have to worry about my day-to-day spending. I found most of…