A Divorced Single Mother Speaks: The Price of Pride and the Power of Reflection

I never imagined I’d share my personal story publicly. But sometimes, the lessons we learn the hard way can serve as guidance for others. I’m 32 years old, a divorced single mother, and through heartbreak and reflection, I’ve come to understand something deeply: pride can quietly destroy the very things we love.

Let me take you back.

My ex-husband and I were best friends before becoming partners. We dated for six years. I stood by him through college, through the ups and downs of early career life. When our families gave their blessings, we got married and soon welcomed a son into the world—he’s seven now.

Like all human beings, my husband wasn’t perfect. He had a short temper on occasion. But our problems didn’t start with his flaws—they began with how I responded to them. I felt a need to prove that I couldn’t be controlled. I wanted to be strong and untouchable. Every time we argued, I would pack up, go to my family, and share only my side of the story. My sisters would step in and call him, often with harsh words.

I wanted him to know that if he ever tried to control me, he could just leave or divorce me. I threw that word—divorce—around too easily. Not because I wanted it, but because I thought it made me look strong. I was afraid of appearing soft or submissive.

Then one day, during a heated moment, I pushed him too far. He hit me—once—and locked me outside. That was the only time. My family took him to the police. From the outside, it looked like I was the victim. But deep inside, I knew I had emotionally pushed him into a corner.

He was not a violent man. He cried. He knelt. He apologized. I withdrew the charges. We reconciled.

But I hadn’t learned my lesson.

A few months later, after another minor disagreement, I left again. Two days later, I got a call: he was in the hospital. My family told me not to go—it would look like I was begging him. They thought he was pretending. I listened to them again.

He recovered. Soon after, I received divorce papers.

Still, I hoped he’d change his mind. I pretended to be okay with the divorce, thinking he’d come back. I even told the court I wanted a share of our property. But in that moment, he said something that broke me.

He told the court I could have everything we had built together. He didn’t want anything—just the divorce.

We divorced in July 2009.

Today, he’s remarried. I’m still alone. I rely on what he gives our son to get by. And the same people who once gave me advice—my own family—now whisper behind my back.

I’m not writing this for pity. I’m writing this as a message to others—especially to women in relationships.

Be mindful of the advice you take. Not everyone who claims to support you truly understands your situation. Not every argument needs outsiders involved. And not every disagreement is a reason to leave.

Relationships require patience, humility, and communication. No one is perfect—not you, not your partner. But pride, when left unchecked, can ruin something that’s still worth saving.

Don’t let your ego speak louder than your heart. Don’t make decisions to prove a point when what you truly want is healing.

Please be wise, be self-aware, and guard your relationship from harmful influences.

May we all—regardless of faith or background—find peace, understanding, and strength in our relationships. May we have the courage to admit our mistakes, the wisdom to learn from them, and the grace to move forward with compassion.

Thank you for reading. If this reflection helps even one person preserve their bond, then sharing it has been worth it.