Opinion piece by Barbara Lee
My daughter was three years old when her dad and I stopped living together. I remember that period as one of the most painful and frightening of my life — and not just because a relationship was ending. I was also grieving the image I'd always held of what a family was supposed to look like.
For a long time, I truly believed that a "good family" meant parents who stayed together. That no matter what happened, you fought for it — for the kids. So when we finally said the words out loud, the guilt hit me immediately. Would we be damaging our daughter? Would she grow up blaming us for not holding the family together? I read so many stories about divorce, wounded children, broken patterns — and it was hard not to be terrified that we were doing something irreversible.
But there was one thing we agreed on from the very first moment: whatever happened between us, what mattered most was that our daughter would be okay.
I won't pretend it was easy. Divorce is a loss even when it's a mutual decision. There were hard conversations, hurt feelings, new rules, new routines. We had to learn how to relate to each other in a completely different way — not as partners, but as co-parents.
Now, four years later, I see things very differently. And I know it might sound strange, but I genuinely believe we became better parents because we separated.
Not because divorce is a good thing in itself. But because our relationship was no longer a happy one — and there was no real path back to that. And our daughter would have felt it, even if we'd tried to hide it from her.
People often say you should stay together for the children. I used to think that was one of the greatest acts of love a parent could make. I'm not so sure anymore. Because I also know what we would have become inside an unhappy relationship.
Bitter. Tense. Exhausted.
Our daughter would have carried that weight too
Something very different happened when we chose to part ways. Because we each have our own lives, our own space, our own sense of calm, we have so much more energy to actually be good parents. We're not fighting against each other — we're working together for her.
I know this doesn't work out this way for every divorced family, and maybe we're lucky. But we're also intentional about it. We make sure our daughter feels loved and accepted from both sides, equally.
We celebrate her birthday together. We spend Christmas together. When there's a school performance, we're both in the audience. We never say anything negative about each other in front of her — not even as a joke. We never want her to feel like she has to choose.
That takes a lot of self-control. And a lot of communication. We've had to learn to set aside our own grievances in the moments that are about her, not about us.
Today, it feels completely natural to talk through everything that involves her. We make decisions together. We align on school, activities, rules. For the most part, we genuinely function as a good team.
And I honestly believe we can do that precisely because we're no longer trying to be a couple.
If we had stayed together just because we felt we "had to," our unhappiness would have slowly consumed us both. We would have blamed each other for a life neither of us felt good in. The tension would have seeped into our daily lives, into our patience, into our parenting.
Children sense far more than we think
I don't believe divorce is the easy way out. And I don't think every relationship should be abandoned at the first sign of difficulty. But I no longer believe that staying together is a virtue in itself — not when everyone inside that relationship is quietly falling apart.
My daughter has two homes now. But more importantly, she feels safe and loved in both of them. When I think about that, I don't see a broken family anymore. I see a family that works differently — but one that's full of love. And I hope it's a good place to grow up.
