There's something about a post-divorce Saturday in Ohio that feels different than other places. Maybe it's the way the light hits the cracked pavement outside a Kroger or how the kids sprawl out on the living room floor, surrounded by half-eaten cereal bowls and homework papers. You're there, maybe still in your pajamas, maybe already on your second load of laundry, wondering if this new version of life is what you signed up for. The truth is, probably not. But here you are anyway. And if you let it, it can actually be good. Not perfect, not Pinterest-ready—but good in that real, quiet, “I know who I am now” sort of way.
The thing about Ohio is, it doesn't ask you to be anything fancy. It just asks you to show up. And after divorce, showing up is half the battle. Whether you're in Cleveland suburbs or tucked into a Toledo neighborhood where everyone still waves from their porch, there's a way forward. And it's not always found in big revelations or grand reinventions. Sometimes, it's in learning how to fill your fridge again, this time with only what you like. Sometimes it's in learning how to breathe without holding your stomach in all the time.
Let The Grief Sit On The Couch With You For A While
No one tells you how weird it is to grieve something that wasn't good. You'll fold a shirt and start crying because it's a shirt you bought when you were still pretending everything was fine. You'll toss out an expired bottle of ranch your ex loved and feel a strange mix of relief and guilt. That's normal. Divorce is a loss, even when it's the right move. You're allowed to feel like your chest has a hole in it, even if you're the one who initiated everything.
The trick is not to shove those feelings away just because they're uncomfortable. Let them hang out for a while. Cry in the car. Vent to your sister. Talk to a therapist if you can swing it. But whatever you do, don't rush yourself to be “okay.” You're not a bad parent if you're sad. You're not broken because you miss parts of the life you left. If anything, it means you were honest with yourself—and that's something a lot of people never get around to doing.
You don't have to be some kind of self-help cliché to grow from this. Just keep getting out of bed. Keep eating. Keep putting your feet on the floor. You're already doing more than you think.
The Kids Don't Need A Superhero—They Need You Present
Ohio schools are their own universe of drop-offs, fundraisers, science fair boards, and sock hops that somehow still exist. It can be tempting to overcompensate in the parenting department post-divorce. You want to be fun, flexible, chill. But what your kids actually need is structure. And they need honesty, at least the age-appropriate kind. You don't have to tell them every gritty detail, but you do have to show them that the world is still stable—even if it's been rearranged.
Set routines. Keep their lives predictable. Eat dinner together, even if it's boxed mac and cheese on paper plates. Tell the school counselor what's going on so your child has a soft place to land during the day. Most of all, keep showing up—on the hard days, on the boring ones, and on the ones when you'd rather be anywhere else.
In the middle of all that, protect children during divorce by resisting the urge to turn them into messengers, therapists, or emotional support animals. Let them be kids. Let them hate you for a minute if they need to, then love you harder an hour later. It's messy, but it matters.
Get Comfortable Taking Up Space Again
You spent years being half of something. Now you're whole, even if it doesn't feel like it yet. That means you get to rediscover what you like. Your Spotify playlist can be whatever you want. You don't have to justify buying yourself a second-hand coffee table or signing up for adult pottery classes in Columbus just because it sounds fun.
There's power in learning how to do things solo again. Go to the movies by yourself. Order Chinese takeout and eat it straight from the box in bed. Say no to social events that drain you and yes to anything that makes you feel alive. You're not selfish—you're recalibrating.
If you're in Akron or Dayton or a sleepy town where everyone knows what you drove in high school, use that to your advantage. The Midwest doesn't judge a person for going to Meijer in slippers. That kind of freedom is underrated. So use it. You've earned it.
Reconnect With The People Who Knew You Before Life Got Complicated
There's something strange and comforting about hearing from someone who knew you before all of this. Before custody schedules and co-parenting apps and starting over in a two-bedroom apartment. Don't underestimate the quiet power of reaching out to old friends, especially the ones from your hometown or high school years. They've seen you in your awkward stage. They might even have Polaroids to prove it.
If you're not sure how to reconnect, let technology do the awkward lifting. Scroll through the Classmates Yearbooks website, Instagram or Facebook and send a message that says, “Hey, I saw your post about your dog—he's adorable. Hope you're doing well.” That's it. No pressure to turn it into a therapy session. Just be human. You'd be surprised how many people are in the same boat, quietly navigating their own little personal earthquakes. Sometimes, an old connection reminds you that you've always been resilient—even if you forgot for a while.
Build A Life That Feels Like Yours, Not A Copy Of What You Had
Maybe your weekends used to revolve around couple plans and Costco runs. Now, it's just you and a blank calendar. That can be terrifying, but it can also be a blank canvas if you're ready to see it that way. Try saying yes to things you used to turn down. Volunteer at your kid's school book fair. Say hi to your neighbors even if you don't remember their names. Take a day trip to Yellow Springs and just wander.
Living a full life after divorce doesn't have to look like a Hallmark movie where you suddenly meet a carpenter with a heart of gold. It might just look like being content, truly content, sitting at your kitchen table on a Tuesday afternoon with a cup of tea and no one expecting anything from you. It might look like peace, and peace is more valuable than whatever fantasy you thought marriage was supposed to be.
In towns big and small across Ohio, divorced parents are quietly rebuilding. And they're doing it with the kind of strength you don't post about online. You don't need a blueprint. You just need time, good people, and a little willingness to be honest with yourself about what you want now.
That's Where Life Gets Good Again
You didn't lose your shot at happiness when your marriage ended. You just changed direction. And yes, there will be days when you're staring at the ceiling wondering what comes next. But there will also be days when the coffee hits just right and the house is quiet and you feel, for the first time in a long time, like maybe everything's going to be okay.
In Ohio, we know how to build things that last—even if we have to tear them down first. You're not starting from scratch. You're starting from experience. And that's a much better place to begin.
