If we’re in an unhappy relationship or breakup, we need our strength. Physical stamina, but psychic and emotional fortitude, too. Food is good medicine for all. And when I say medicine I don’t necessarily mean “healthy.” When I’m low, a dose of chocolate heals me much better than kale. In any case, here my Advisors, friends and I offer a few recipes for blue moods.

Have your own awesome recipes? Send them to [email protected]

Movies

Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (1974)

This heart-rendering 1974 movie from writer Robert Getchell, director Martin Scorsese and star Ellen Burstyn (who won the Oscar for Best Actress) is perhaps most well known as the progenitor of the long lived TV sitcom, Alice. But if that’s all you know about this groundbreaking film, you’re in for a huge treat. The story follows the wandering, hopeful, hardscrabble life of single mom, Burstyn, following the accidental death of her husband. But it’s not a movie about being a widow or grieving. It’s about starting over, going it alone, getting knocked down, and standing up again. It’s about the euphoria and awfulness of chasing dreams and pursuing happiness whatever the hell that is from one moment to the next. It’s a complicated, modern American tale of the challenges of leaving behind a seemingly preordained, traditional destiny and identity as a “couple,” “wife” and “family,” and of tackling life, one unpredictable day at a time, as a solo woman in an often misogynist, always shit world. Look for a very young Jodie Foster in (yet another) beautiful, memorable performance, as a misanthropic but honest friend-in-need to Burstyn’s confused, angry son.

The Best Years of Our Lives (1946)

I’m a film school brat. I love movies. When people ask me what are the best movies ever made, this black-and-white oldie always makes my top five. Winner of seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Director (William Wyler,) Best Screenplay (Robert E. Sherwood), Best Actor (Fredric March), and Best Supporting Actor (Harold Russell,) this is classic, classic Hollywood storytelling at its finest. A sprawling, ambitious, multi-layered ensemble piece telling of the difficult readjustments of three soldiers coming home from World War II to their quiet Midwestern town, it’s so good, in so many places and ways, I can’t really sum it up in such a short review. Caveat: It’s from 1946, so there are places where it ages less than perfectly, an at-times somewhat dated, too-neat early 20th century Hollywood view about society, family values, male and female roles, etc. But at the same time, it’s eternal. The whole gamut is here: fidelity and infidelity, sex, divorce, physical compatibility, youth and aging, romance, dating, substance abuse, wealth and poverty, growing up and never growing up, parenting, religious faith real and feigned, eternal hope and soul crushing failure, war and peace, economic fairness and inequality. A special, Honorary Academy Award was created just for first-time actor Harold Russell, and believe me, you’ll see why. If you don’t weep watching this one, you don’t have tear ducts. Hell, I get choked up just hearing the first bars of Hugo Friedhofer’s Oscar-winning score.

Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice (1969)

Nominated for several Oscars, this controversial-in-its-time comedy-drama follows the very 1960s, very California relationships of two young married couples, all friends, as they wrestle with changing mores in changing times: affairs, openness, mate swapping and more. A total period piece that sometimes feels, well, a bit foolish—peak swinging 1960’s California!—it’s surprisingly still resonant, meaningful and funny today, owing to the sincere commitment and warmth of a talented filmmaker (Paul Mazursky) and his all-star cast (Natalie Wood, Robert Culp, Elliott Gould, and Dyan Cannon). One of Mazursky’s gifts is somehow bringing out the honest, messy, interesting humanity in scenarios otherwise ripe for silliness or sentimentality, and this movie is a good example of him turning what could have been a ridiculously thin setup into a kind, soulful grown-up drama.

Boyhood (2014)

Filmed over 12 years with the same cast by director/writer Richard Linklater, in this unique drama we get to see a boy, Mason, literally grow up, as the same actor, the wonderful Ellar Coltrane, plays him from age seven to eighteen. Mason is a child of split parents, and we get to see family, marriage and divorce as he sees them, over changing times and many evolutions, a moving, sometimes tearful, sometimes funny, sometimes realistically-blase portrait of a contemporary American family—which isn’t some kind of aspirationally unchanging group, it’s a living organism, easily bruised, with ever developing characters and dynamics. Because the narrative so dramatically, so often leaps ahead in time, some characters and situations feel a little abbreviated, even a little cliched, as there’s simply not enough time for deeper characterizations or nuances. But that’s a nitpick. There are no stick figures, and no easy good guys and bad guys here. There are real humans, living real, tumultuous, gut wrenching, heart exploding lives. Can you tell I really love this movie? Just the whole idea of keeping a cast together for 12 years just blows my mind in its ambition! What a gem.

The Break-Up (2006)

Vince Vaughn and Jennifer Aniston play a seriously committed, grown-up couple who live in a condo they own together, at least until the seeming mismatches in their personalities cause them to call it quits. Will they stay broken up? Or does love conquer all? (The couple is not married, but that just seems like a plot contrivance, as the filmmakers didn’t want to deal with the subject of marriage and divorce, just compatibility.) This movie makes this list much more for its ambitions and occasional insights than for its overall quality, which suffers from an identity crises: Comedy? Drama? Silly juvenile? Deep and serious? The movie can't make up its mind. And the script and basic conceit aren’t that nuanced and the result is tiring. Modern compatibility conflict is a great subject for a movie, and the pairing of Aniston and Vaughn initially feels inspired. But quickly the script feels too cute and shallow, and the performances suffer as a result. And while Aniston and Vaughn are talented comedians, that doesn’t serve them well here. Their attempts at emoting can feel like sitcom setups waiting for punchlines. Still, there’s a few really good moments too, good-hearted, trenchant illustrations of the perils of saying things like, “you, forever.”

Divorce American Style (1967)

Written and produced by Norman Lear a few years before he created All in the Family, this 1960s-era attempt at biting satire ages poorly. Given the seemingly blue-ribbon liberal, humanist credentials of its author, as well as that of Lear’s partner, the film’s director Bud Yorkin, it’s odd to watch this movie and realize how misogynistic and hamfisted it is, at least by today’s standards. The subject of happiness in long-term relationships and the challenges of divorce are reduced to one, sneering notion: the ostensible unfairness and burden of alimony on men, and the lengths they’ll go to be free of such obligations. Perhaps in its original release era, the schemes of the male protagonists came off as clever, and as smart satire (many critics of the time thought highly of the picture and it was nominated for the Best Screenplay Oscar), but today it’s just distasteful and unfunny. At best, it’s a museum piece, a testament to both how mores and values change over time, and how even the best intentioned people (like the film’s creators) can look silly or even malicious when viewed through the lens of far future generations.

Eat Pray Love (2010)

Based on Elizabeth Gilbert’s best selling, beloved memoir of the same name, this movie did well in theaters but was trashed by critics who complained that a sincere, thoughtful book had been turned into a self-involved Julia Roberts star-vehicle. I’ll just say this: The book is fabulous, a genuine, heartfelt soul-search wrapped in a breathtaking travelogue. It’s every wannabee divorcee’s fantasy of what life will be like after divorce: Travel the world. Sleep with hot partners. Seek spiritual enlightenment and nirvana at authentic sources. Eat all the pasta you want and still don’t mind stepping on a scale. And then fall in love again. Which means Julia Roberts is perfectly cast—she’s the somehow simultaneously down-home but super-glam movie star, someone pretty much every wannabee wants to be. And while I agree with critics like Maureen Dowd, who called the movie “navel gazing drivel,” I also say, so what. Enjoy. What’s wrong with a little self-indulgence, especially if we’re feeling blue, and maybe even hopeless, and very, very, very un-indulged. If you can only do one, read the book. If, on the other hand, you only have a couple hours, enjoy the movie, knowing it’s a candy-colored Hollywood trifle, that still may poke and prod sensitive spots anyway.

The Gay Divorcee (1934)

This one’s on the list just for the total fun of it. The delightful, classic Hollywood musical features the dazzling Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, plus one of my early Hollywood heroes, the hilarious Edward Everett Horton, plus music including Best Original Song Oscar winner The Continental, and the timeless masterpiece Night and Day by Cole Porter. It’s superficially a story of moving on from marriage and divorce. But like most Hollywood musicals, the plot is just a thread on which to hang glamorous people, gorgeous sets and costumes, and breathtaking dance numbers and tunes. Rogers goes to England to engineer an “at fault” setup so she can finally get a divorce from her long lost absent husband. Complications ensue. A fun historical trivia note: The Hays Office, which in the early 20th century oversaw and censored Hollywood movies for controversial ideas, objected to the movie’s original title, which came from its source, the Broadway show, Gay Divorce. The Hays Office apparently believed it was ok for a person to be gay (happy and light hearted) after getting a divorce, but that the institution of divorce itself should not be considered cheerful. So the producers had to change the name to The Gay Divorcee.

Enough Said (2013)

The last role played by James Gandolfini before he died, in this film he shines just as brightly as he did as Tony Soprano while completely stepping outside that role. Here he plays a soft spoken, sweet, tentative newly divorced bachelor. Written and directed by the ridiculously talented but under-appreciated Nicole Holofcener, the story follows the travails of Eva, played cheerfully and sensitively by the fabulous Julia Louis-Dreyfus, who is struggling to find love and happiness as a divorced, self-employed masseuse and mom to a teenage daughter. Gandolfini is her on again off again paramour, Albert, a divorcee with a teenage daughter and new-life challenges of his own. There’s a clever plot device where Dreyfuss discovers that Gandolfini’s ex-wife, played by the always brilliant, frequent Holofcener collaborator Catherine Keener, is her client and good friend—and who loathes her ex-husband Gandolfini. That setup keeps the film amusingly moving along, but the ultimate product is much more than that clever twist. Co-parenting and co-existing with our exes is a major theme, sharply but lovingly handled. Ditto, love and romance post-divorce, and the inevitability and risks of thinking that, at a certain age, we’ve seen it all. Somehow the independent Holofcener continues to get her smart, poignant productions made and distributed. Thank heavens.

The Kids Are Alright (2010)

Directed and co-written by celebrated indie filmmaker Lisa Cholodenko, this colorful ensemble piece uses a couple of quirky plot twists to blow up a few cherished notions about what makes a family, and what keeps one functional. Released in 2010, it was nominated for Best Picture and Best Screenplay and its stars Annette Bening and Mark Ruffalo for Best Actress and Best Supporting Actor, respectively. (Julianne Moore also stars, and is superb.) The first twist is, the story centers on a normal, conventional family of two parents with two teenage kids… except the parents are lesbians and each kid was born to one of them, but both kids were created using the same sperm donor. Follow? Then the second twist is, the two kids decide they want to know who their father/sperm donor was, and track him down, and lo and behold he lives nearby, and, played by Ruffalo, he’s a super cool, nice guy. And he’s actually happy when they find them. But is he their parent? The two moms are not thrilled to even have to think about that. But Ruffalo gets sucked in and meddles, causing tension. But maybe that’s ok: He’s just so sensitive, self-effacing and charming. But then he has a sexual affair with Moore. Then things get really heated. For Moore’s not only a cheater, it appears she’s bi-sexual. It’s complicated. But super well done. This is a unique, special movie. See it.

Kramer vs. Kramer (1979)

I watched this again recently and was I glad I did. Nominated for nine Academy Awards, winner of five including Best Picture, Best Director (Sidney Lumet,) Best Actor (Dustin Hoffman), Best Screenplay (Robert Benton,) and Best Supporting Actress (Meryl Streep,) this 1979 drama was amongst the first major Hollywood products to try to realistically, and non-judgmentally, address modern marriage and divorce—and though controversial at the time amongst feminists, also the subjects of misogyny and the struggles of females to live in a male dominated world. The story tells of the blow up of the marriage of Hoffman and Streep, as Streep seemingly abruptly abandons ship, leaving behind her crushed young son with her overwhelmed ex-husband. The utter magnificence of this movie is not just in all the usual places—the wonderful script, fantastic but unobtrusive direction, spectacular performances—but also in the amazing way the film does not devolve into some obvious, pedantic TV-movie-of-the-week, as its plot and even title seem to suggest. Streep won her (first) Oscar for playing a mother who tears herself apart when she abandons her young child. That seemingly unconventional-for-the-sake-of-being-unconventional conceit could easily have devolved into a Cruella DeVille caricature. But no, all the Oscars are richly deserved, not least for making Streep’s character entirely human and heart-crushingly sympathetic. (Streep famously rewrote many parts of the script herself.) Likewise Hoffman’s character, who goes from anger and self-involvement to vulnerability and deeply felt loving commitment. Marriage, divorce, parenting, personal freedoms, the pursuit of happiness, aging, settling for less or not settling for less, all these topics and more are sensitively, artfully explored.

Network (1976)

One of the most successful and celebrated movies in the history of Hollywood, and the perhaps crowning achievement of Paddy Chayefsky, one of the most revered motion picture authors ever, Network is a dark satire of modern tech and media businesses and their profound effects on humanity. The winner of four Oscars, it’s not really a film about marriage and relationships per se, but, then again, it is. Chayefsky’s breathtaking, piercing talents as a writer can accomplish in one scene what other artists labor to communicate in entire careers. While I highly, highly recommend watching the entire film, in particular check out the scene (spoiler alert, sort of) where William Holden tells his wife of 25 years, Beatrice Straight, he’s leaving her for another woman. Straight won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress basically just for this scene (she’s not in the movie much otherwise) and it’s so well deserved. Somehow Chayefsky, brilliant director Sidney Lumet, Holden and Straight pack what feels like an entire story of a deep, long and complex marriage into one thrilling, excruciating scene. It’s a stunning centerpiece to a stunning film, an emotional volcano that instantly centers and humanizes an otherwise cool, cerebral movie. A caveat: Today, 40+ years later, some may criticize Chayefsky for a somewhat dated, male-centric view of midlife and marriage crises. What do you think?

The Parent Trap (1961; remake 1998)

A silly, cheerful, antique trifle that, in my opinion, in today’s world borders on being deeply offensive, this very-old-school 1961 Disney “family” movie should be banned from families, and homes experiencing divorce. Or, at least, if that’s you, probably best not to have your kids watch it. Or, if they do, figure out how to explain that it has about as much to do with reality as Peter Pan. Or as Stalinist propaganda. That aside, if you can turn off the thinking part of your brain and just focus on the popcorn and candy in your lap, the original version starring Hayley Mills, Brian Keith and Maureen O’Hara is a kind of distilled classic of the sort of ostensibly family-friendly, technicolor nonsense peddled with a patronizing smile by corporate America on young baby boomers, I guess to curdle their brains and keep them happily consuming. No wonder they all turned on, tuned in and dropped out. The 1998 remake blows my mind in so many ways: How truly awful a movie can be. How stupid producers, studios and even brilliant artists like writer-director Nancy Meyers can be in their choice of films to remake. How the managers and agents who supposedly were looking out for the amazingly talented, innocent child Lindsay Lohan were actually a bunch of sinister predators who should be flogged in public.

Stepmom (1998)

Stock up big-time on tissues and hankies for this one. Terminally ill divorcee Susan Sarandon has to somehow acclimate her kids and herself to the fact that the children are getting a new stepmother, their father and Sarandon’s former husband Ed Harris's younger, inexperienced new partner, Julia Roberts. And the two kids just don’t love Dad’s new lover. And Sarandon is faltering, her mortal time rapidly running out. Granted, this is a very, by-the-book, manipulative, corny Hollywood tearjerker. Having Sarandon be terminally ill makes what would have been a really poignant, difficult, modern family tale—a divorced parent dealing with the fact that her kids now have more than two “parents”—into an at times maudlin, sudsy soap opera. But whatever: It’s just a really good Hollywood sob story movie that doesn’t pretend to be anything else. And its leads are all first rate performers, movie stars at the tops of their games. So despite it being a well-oiled weep-sucking machine, in it’s smaller, quieter moments, the film manages some worthwhile observations on modern relationships and parenting. And of course, a really, really good cry.

War of the Roses (1989)

Unfortunately, this is a short review so I’m limited in how many bad things I can say about this turd. Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner are going through such a nasty divorce, they fight—literally, bite, claw and scratch each other and destroy everything and everyone—brawling over who gets their beautiful house. Maybe the Farrelly brothers could have turned this into some kind of looney slapstick fun, but director Danny DeVito and his august cast take themselves way too seriously, as if they’re making some dark, biting satire. They’re not. The script and the drama are thin, a fortune cookie masquerading as deep thoughts. Yes, some critics really liked this movie, but then again, some critics like individually wrapped cheese food slices. Maybe there was an embryo of a sensitive, decent idea at the outset—the film is based on a novel (that I haven’t read)—but the final result is just a self-aggrandizing mishmash spectacle, of Hollywood elite preening like they’re savvy social observers, while getting paid a ton just to gleefully smash expensive scenery. Some movies are so bad they’re good. This one? Just bad.

The Way Way Back (2013)

This movie stars Liam James, Steve Carell, Toni Collette, Allison Janney, AnnaSophia Robb, Sam Rockwell, Maya Rudolph, Rob Corddry and Amanda Peet. Do I even need to say more? The quirky, charming, sometimes melancholy story follows a 14 year old boy, Duncan, through his unlikely summer at Cape Cod with his distracted, partying mom, Pam, her dubious, wealthy boyfriend, Trent, and Trent’s condescending daughter, Steph. A motley quasi-family unit, if ever there was one. Largely ignored by everyone, Duncan stumbles into the small-time local water amusement park, Water Wizz, and there finds his home of sorts, as he’s befriended and mentored by the oddball characters who work in the park. For those not old enough to get the reference, the movie’s title refers to the far rear section of a station wagon, behind the back seats, where younger kids often rode, back in the good old days before anyone cared about things like safety belts. And that’s fitting, as this tender film shows us a child’s bumpy ride, and through his eyes, a strange, scary but still wonderful world, as Duncan settles into a different family life than he ever envisioned, while discovering an inner strength and wisdom he never imagined, either.

Teachers, Thinkers, Advice

ChopperPapa

Subtitled, “A Husband, Man and Dad Blog,” ChopperPapa is the at times edgy-funny, at times gut-wrenching and tough-love musings of Kyle Bradford, containing what he calls “observations and discussions about marriage, single parenting, dating, divorce, and manhood.” Bradford talks candidly and often about his own history and life experiences—his own difficult divorce and struggles to co-parent his two young children—but the material isn’t memoir. It’s a series of pointed reflections on the modern male experience of love and parenthood, and reinvention, stumbling and recovering—and stumbling again. And motorcycles. (That’s the “chopper” part.) Bradford has a distinctive voice. He’s sensitive and gentle but also a little gruff, very, well, male. And that’s his intention, and strength. He’s progressive and modern, and unafraid to challenge conventional wisdom, while at the same time he’s unabashedly of the view that gender can really matter, and men and women can be equal while also being different. In the same vein, Bradford also produces and hosts the podcast “Fatherhood Wide Open,” where he interviews male authors and thinkers.

Esther Perel (1999-ongoing)

Esther Perel is the Belgian-born psychotherapist and bestselling author of Mating in Captivity: Unlocking Erotic Intelligence (2006) and The State of Affairs: Rethinking Infidelity (2017). In my opinion, she is the single most original, inspiring, brilliant and influential investigator today of modern emotional and romantic relationships. A still-practicing couples therapist based in New York City, she combines scientific diligence with a huge heart; she is sensitive, non-judgemental and caring while also sharp and pointed in her at-times extremely unconventional views. Maybe start with her wildly popular, brief TED Talk videos. I find her podcast series, Where Should We Begin, much less satisfying. The podcasts are all more-or-less unedited recordings of actual couples-therapy sessions. The names of the participants are not shared but everything else is. The premise is fascinating, but the listening much less so. In therapy, we all ramble on. And on. A good therapist doesn’t cut anyone short, and Perel is a good therapist. The result is too much of a good thing. I abandoned ship after two episodes, longing for Perel to substantially edit the recordings and interject her own commentary. But that’s a quibble. Perel is a genius, I think, and her brave, groundbreaking work is a treasure.

Reboot.io

Reboot is a coaching company with a focus on improving one’s relationship with work to lead to growth as individuals. But anyone can get huge delight and benefits from their offerings, and from their stimulating, sometimes gut-wrenching thesis that we use “radical self inquiry”—deliberate, methodical examination and deconstruction of the self—to achieve personal growth. Combining practical advice with a heady, cheerful mix of modern and ancient philosophy, poetry, and non-judgemental love, stirred with a dollop of the Buddhist quest for enlightenment, Reboot’s founders and network offer all sorts of counsel and wisdom, even if you never enroll in their programs. Check out their web site and try one of their podcasts. The material’s largely geared towards workplace issues and that may be enough for you, but look for the other gems, too. One of my favorite podcasts is titled, “Building Relational Trust.” (Sound useful here?) In that 50 minute conversation, Reboot founder Jerry Colonna interviews one of his own coaches and mentors, author, educator, and activist Parker Palmer, whose intense wisdom, clear perception and deep love of humanity comes wrapped in an endearingly gentle, understated, wry, Midwestern sensibility. Colonna and Palmer talk a lot about “leaders” but substitute “parents” or “spouses” and the ideas are just as resonant. Full disclosure: I’m a longtime friend of Colonna, have worked with him as a coach, and have been a participant in Reboot events.

Savage Lovecast (1991-ongoing)

Dan Savage is a treasure. Idiosyncratic but mainstream, tender and sensitive but grouchy and tough, caustically active on behalf of LGBTQ causes but a source of love and smarts to the entire universe, gay straight or otherwise, Savage created and writes Savage Love, an internationally syndicated relationship and sex advice column, and also writes and hosts the popular podcast of the same name. He’s an original, and also an original gangsta: he’s been a leading light in the love and relationship advice game since 1991. It’s hard to imagine a topic he hasn’t covered. Twice. But he nevertheless manages to keep it fresh and interesting and punchy and funny and sometimes, a little raw.

Dear Sugars

Originally an advice column with a cult following in the independent magazine The Rumpus, now co-produced by NPR and The New York Times, Dear Sugars is a podcast that bills itself as a “radically empathic advice show.” I genuinely like this series but I’m not sure I can vouch for that description. Well-known authors Cheryl Strayed and Steve Almond host the podcast, and they are polished pros, but, personally, at times I find them not entirely empathic, and occasionally a bit judgemental, too quick to decide the underlying truth of a situation or who’s right and who’s wrong. But, in their defense, maybe it’s because their show format is that they respond to listeners’ emails, so they only get a quick glimpse and summary of the people and dilemmas they mull over. And, of course, just one side of a conflict. Or maybe it’s because they’ve seen and heard so gosh darned much—separately or together they’ve been offering relationship advice for many, many years. Still, they’re always sensitive, caring and open-minded, and never fall into predictable male/female roles, and are bracingly candid about their own checkered personal histories. Best, they often have really superb guests on with them. One great example: novelist Susan Cheever, who steals the show and turns the hosts upside down and inside out in the 2016 episode “The Infidelity Episodes Part 4: The Other Woman.” It’s so interesting and unexpected, I listened to it twice.

DivorceForce

Founded by two men in the confusing throes of their own divorces, DivorceForce is a relatively new venture that offers a web- and mobile app-based social network for people who are divorcing, divorced, or being impacted by divorce, or other changing families and relationships. In the company’s words, the network is focused on offering “Education,” “Connection,” and “Support.” That is, users can gain knowledge, meet others in similar circumstances, and have a shoulder to lean on when times are tough. Caveat, I have not spent a huge amount of hours on DivorceForce—I’m now years past my divorce and don’t really need this right now—but I have spent some time perusing their offerings, and, as of this writing, I give the platform an A+ for vision and ambition, and a B+ for execution. And that less-than-perfect score is largely from the “chicken and egg problem”: It’s hard to have a successful social network without a lot of participants, but it’s hard to get folks to use a social network that isn’t yet full of other people. But no matter. Even if not yet full to the brim, there is still lots of useful stuff and people right now in the DivorceForce network. The free version offers limited access to some material and features, and with a paid subscription you get a much more elaborate, full blown networking platform and resource.

TV

All in the Family (1971-1979)

As the name suggests, this celebrated, groundbreaking TV sitcom is specifically about relationships. Various modern marriages are at its core: The cantankerous, middle-aged, blue-collar bigot Archie Bunker and his traditional, mousey, subservient wife Edith. The Bunkers’ 1970s-liberated daughter Gloria and her progressive son-of-immigrants husband Michael Stivic. The upwardly mobile but justifiably paranoid African-American couple next door, gruff George and loving but rough and ready Louise Jefferson. Still, despite the series well-earned reputation for smartly, sensitively taking on all sorts of complicated and challenging subjects, viewed today it’s attitude towards marriage is still pretty standard, saccharine fare, I think. Everything gets resolved neatly by every episode’s end and the couples kiss and makeup and snuggle. There’s one episode specifically about divorce, “Amelia’s Divorce,” from the 1975 season, which, for me anyways, simultaneously nails it and falls short at the same time, as it’s all just an excuse for Archie and Edith to realize how much they really do love each other (and kiss, makeup and snuggle). Well, such was the tenor of those times—unlike today, 40 years ago no TV network or producer would have a married couple at the center of a huge smash hit TV show realize anything else. In any case, that particular episode is still resonant, as it reveals how Edith’s visiting cousins have a seemingly fabulous marriage that’s really a toxic cauldron of resentment. Over so many episodes, this series brilliantly, delicately, often hilariously, explores a wide variety of realistic relationships and people.

An American Family (1973)

Arguably the first ever “reality TV” show, this landmark documentary series shocked and titillated pretty much the entire USA when it originally aired in 1973 (on PBS, no less). The premise was simple: a film crew moved in and lived with a family, unobtrusively and neutrally observing the everyday lives of the Louds of Santa Barbara, CA, who were selected, it was said, as a reasonable approximation of a typical (white, upper middle class) American household of the time. Unlike “reality” shows of today, An American Family was entirely unscripted, but after it aired there were bitter disputes between the Louds and the producers over whether the material had been unfairly edited, or situations somehow architected, manipulated to create and inflame tensions and, ergo, heighten drama and increase ratings. (Ya think?) In any case, these allegedly pedestrian lives were anything but. Son Lance Loud comes out to his parents, revealing he’s gay, a milestone and first for American TV and popular culture. Arguably even more startling, in a testy, memorable exchange, after 21 years of marriage Pat Loud asks her husband Bill for a divorce and to leave the house. With all the noise coming off all the screens we live with today, it’s hard to imagine how powerfully a single show, aired once, could simultaneously unite and divide an entire nation. But, for a few months in early 1973, this one did.

Divorce (2016 - continuing)

I was so excited when I heard this HBO series was coming. I’m a big Sarah Jessica Parker fan and avidly watched the Sex in the City series, every episode, as it first aired. And I also adore Parker’s costar here, Thomas Haden Church. And I thought, well, it's about time for some smart, funny, sensitive artists to take on the subject of divorce, and in an ongoing series format, where all sorts of characters and issues can be given time to breathe and develop deeply. And it was to be a comedy, so much the better: Nobody wants to see some syrupy, too-serious mopey drama about divorce, but a comic approach could tackle all sorts of touchy stuff. So it’s that much more disappointing to have to report: for me, this series is a dud. Stick figure characters, silly cliched situations, cheap attempts for laughs that fall flat, ugh. Double ugh. I even watched several episodes thinking it can’t possibly stay that bad, but it did. Paging Darren Star and Candace Bushnell… Paging Darren Star and Candace Bushnell...

Happily Divorced (2011-2013)

In general, I’m a big fan of Fran Drescher, who I find refreshingly authentic, self-effacing, and funny. But I have mixed feelings about this series, which seems to try way too hard to be funny and never lets the interesting setup just develop and blossom. Based loosely on her own life, the premise is, series star and creator Drescher’s eighteen year marriage breaks up when her husband comes out as gay. But they’re financially strapped, so they keep living together and are forced to reinvent their relationship and discover who each of them really is. For me, this should not have been a traditional, live-audience, multi-camera studio sitcom. It should have been shot on film, one camera, no live audience, no need for constant laugh lines. Just let the interesting flesh and blood characters get on with their lives and go to humor, pathos or tears as situations require. Instead, in tiresome sitcom fashion, it’s often big joke after big joke, some oddly crude and tone deaf, and all underlined by an annoying, guffawing laugh track. Still, as I said, I have a big place in my heart for Drescher and when occasionally she shines, she’s fabulously bright.

Modern Family (2009 - continuing)

Well, how can I make a list like this and not include the aptly named Modern Family? And I’ll just plain say it: I frigging love this show. It’s screamingly original and well done, plus laugh out loud funny while also occasionally being meaningful, insightful and poignant on the subject we’re all here to mull over: what constitutes love and family and a healthy relationship in these frantic, confusing, modern times. I will nitpick, however: I find this series portrayal of divorce to be less satisfying than its portrayal of most everything else. The writers fall back on easy TV sitcom cliches, e.g. how the divorced main characters’ exes are all so batshit crazy (e.g., Ed O’Neill’s ex wife, played by Shelley Long) or cold and unlovable (Sofia Vergara’s ex husband, played by Benjamin Bratt) that, of course, we don’t care about them at all, which makes it so easy for us to root for the main characters in their second marriage, and not have any painful questions about, say, why their first marriages tanked, or why these arguably super important people are almost never in the story, always offscreen, rarely in their children’s lives. In a similar cliche sitcom fashion, relationships have travails but nothing too serious—everyone kisses and makes up by every episode’s end. But who cares! This series is fabulous, brilliant, and bursting with good cheer and hysterical humor. Love it, love it, love it.

In alphabetical order: 

Alimony (aka Spousal Support)

The recurring payments provided by one former spouse to the other, to create better balance between their disparate individual incomes or financial circumstances. Numbers, percentages and ratios are usually open to negotiation, but also are almost always calculated, at least in part, using guidelines in the laws of the former couple’s home state. For example, she’s a big earner; he’s a smaller one, so she owes him alimony, paid monthly (or on some agreed upon recurring schedule) for whatever number of years are proscribed in their particular state’s law.

Alimony is different than, and disconnected from, any Child Support payments a splitting couple may agree on. Alimony is only to address post-breakup financial inequities, if any. Child Support is intended to help care for children only, not redress other imbalances. Ex-partners may agree on one or the other or both such payments.

Attorney

Attorney is just another word for “lawyer.” Both words mean the same thing—someone who has a state-issued license to practice law, by virtue of having passed that state’s Bar Exam, which is a test administered by the local Bar Association—the professional lawyers association.

Some states do not require that people have a law school degree before taking the Bar Exam; most states do. There may be reputation benefits, or human network benefits, but there are no practical or legal benefits to having gone to a big name law school or having passed the bar exam on the first try. You can fail the Bar Exam repeatedly and keep re-taking it until you pass. Scrappy lawyer Tina Tenacity, who didn't go to law school, or went to mail order law school and failed the bar exam ten times before passing, has the same rights and privileges as an attorney as does Baron Brahmin, who was editor of the Harvard Law Review and passed the bar exam in his sleep. Both are credentialed lawyers, officers of the Court. Tina may be so smart, savvy and brave she crushes Baron. Or not. So whether their paths to being lawyers matters is up to you. Do the homework: Ask for references.

Child Support

In most circumstances, when children are involved in a divorce or family break up, the law and Courts take special care to look out for the kids’ interests, as a separate matter from the other terms of the split, or the circumstances of the parents. There is basically no situation where the law or a Judge will allow children to suffer to take care of anyone or anything else.

Child support is the money one parent pays the other, usually on an ongoing basis but sometimes in a lump sum, for the care and comfort of their shared children. The amount and schedule of payments is almost always regulated under law, but the two parents may agree on different terms, as long as those terms are the same or better than the law requires. No parent may trade child support for a car, for example.

Various factors go into calculating child support but the most important are:

A. Will one parent have a larger responsibility for the care and comfort of the children?

B. How much does it reasonably cost to provide decent care and comfort to the children?

C. Is decent care and comfort enough? Or has the child been brought up in a better-than-           decent lifestyle that should be continued?

D. How much can the paying parent afford to pay?

E. What are the applicable, local state laws?

States have different regulations but Child Support is almost always carefully governed by law. Any decent, local attorney or mediator will know what your state proscribes, or you can look it up online. 

Collaborative Attorney

This is a fairly new, modern idea—that, to avoid costly, painful litigation fought in a Courtroom, people can work with Collaborative Attorneys, to create a less antagonistic process, leading to an out-of-court settlement, all the while each splitting partner still has the benefit of personal legal counsel. (Which is unlike when a couple uses a mediator. See Mediator.)

Since 2009 there has been a movement to create uniform guidelines and principles for this type of thing into specific state laws. But as of this writing, while some states have adopted such laws, most have not.

For our purposes here, though, there’s no need to worry about specific laws. In virtually every state you can find attorneys who bill themselves as Collaborative Attorneys, and who will try to get you that more amicable, out-of-court settlement.

Of course, your soon-to-be-ex has to agree to this framework and also hire a Collaborative Attorney. Some Collaborative Attorneys market themselves in teams—one for you, one for your soon-to-be-ex—with the selling point being, we the Collaborative Attorneys have done this before, we know each other and how this works, if the goal is speed, cost-containment and amiability, then it’s a plus your Collaborative Attorney has a pre-existing relationship with your ex’s Collaborative Attorney. That may or may not be true. As always, check references.

As a practical matter, if you use Collaborative Attorneys you will probably spend time in conference rooms, either all together or separately down the hall from one another, hashing out stuff in a collaborative way. When disagreements happen, you may empower the Collaborative Attorneys to go away and on their own suggest ways to break the impasse. But even then you and your soon-to-be-ex still must approve everything; in no case are you required or even advised to let Collaborative Attorneys decide things for you.

Cost-wise, Collaborative Attorneys are still attorneys and bill by the hour, but given their commitment to amiability, there should be less cost than hiring traditional, combative attorneys—it’s painful how many hours get billed as antagonistic lawyers snipe at each other in endless emails, filings, phone calls and meetings. In theory, that's all eliminated with Collaborative Attorneys—as also are expensive, awful hours in courtrooms.

An important caveat: “Collaborative” may or may not mean “peaceful.” In the world of Collaborative Law, there is an unfortunate subculture of “wolves in sheep’s clothing”—lawyers who sell themselves as mellow collaborators but are really just looking for clients to milk by fighting all the time anyways. But on balance I think the Collaborative Law concept is a great one. It gets rid of the temptation to view divorce as a zero sum game—where there are winners and a losers, or if your ex gets something that means you lost something. It's more expensive than using a mediator, but cost is not the only factor to weigh. (See Mediator.)

“Common Law” Marriage

Good news: pretty much everything you think you know about so-called “common law” marriages is wrong.

Many people believe that if a couple lives together for long enough, or does certain things, then the law considers them to be married whether or not they ever actually got married or registered their union with the law (that is, went to City Hall etc.)

Not true. In the vast majority of US states, there is simply no such law or trigger. Marriage is defined as a willing lawful union of two people who have taken the appropriate legal steps, e.g. got a marriage license or certificate. No other couples are married.

A small number of states do have “common law marriage” statutes or regulations on their books, but these are rarely if ever enforced or even brought up, and they usually have very specific requirements for being invoked—say, if a couple describes themselves and acts as though married, for example by filing tax returns jointly or if one partner uses the other’s last name.

All this is likely irrelevant for you but if you think it’s a factor in your split, do your homework online or talk to an attorney to find out what’s what in your state.

“Conflicting Out” an attorney

This is a tactic used by people who want to prevent their soon-to-be-ex from hiring a certain attorney. It’s pretty much the same thing as interviewing a prospective attorney to see if you want to hire her. But then the trick is, once you’ve spent any time with that attorney and shared personal details of your situation, you’ve then wrapped “attorney client privilege” (that is, professional confidentiality) around your relationship with that particular attorney whether or not you actually hire them. Which means that particular attorney is now prohibited from working with your soon-to-be-ex.

The point is, if there are divorce attorneys that are known to be truly scary or impressive or who routinely scorch the earth to get their clients what they want, you may want to prevent your soon-to-be-ex from working with them against you, whether or not you personally want to hire them to be your lawyer. So you meet them ASAP and “conflict them out.”

Some divorce attorneys are so well known for being fearsome nuclear weapons, they know they’re constantly being “conflicted out,” so they charge fees for initial consultations. In their view, if you’re going to “conflict them out” you should pay for the privilege (which, if you think about it, is entirely consistent with the reason you want to conflict them out in the first place.) But when you call to set up your meeting, you don’t have to mention “conflicting them out” (and you shouldn’t.) Just ask if they charge fees for initial consultations, and their office will tell you.

Custody

If a splitting couple has children then custody of the kids must be decided in the Divorce Agreement. Such can be a difficult and nuanced negotiation but I’ll try to summarize some key aspects.

First, keep in mind that the law and the judge always want to put the best interests of the children first. Period. And if you and your ex can’t agree, the judge will decide what’s best for your child. Which may not be what you want. So tread lightly. And know that while a judge is very unlikely to rewrite a deal if a divorcing couple both seem content with an agreement, the judge can and will do so if he feels the best interests of the children have not been adequately addressed.

Next, there is a popular misperception that custody is a zero sum game, where one spouse wins and the other loses. This is simply not true. The two spouses can agree on any arrangements they want, and hopefully where both feel content. I think this always should be the goal. There is no requirement that either parent be given “primary” custody, or any dominant role. The two parents can agree that custody is 50/50 and that neither can unilaterally rule. In my own Divorce Agreement the entire custody issue is covered in just one sentence: “The Husband and Wife shall have shared legal custody of the children.”

All the logistical details and everything else—and there typically is much, much else—is usually called the Parenting Plan. This covers the many practical parenting issues that also usually get negotiated. Although custody is covered by one sentence in my divorce agreement, the Parenting Plan takes up several pages detailing various day in day out, year in year out, practical issues, for example, how school vacations get divided up.

But if one divorcing parent does get “primary” custody, then that parent is the decider if they choose to be. They can always solicit the opinion of their ex, but they’re not obligated to do so. This does not mean that the primary custody parent can just impose their will without restraint. The non-primary parent can always sue and ask a judge to decide. And the judge will almost always make their ruling based on what he believes is the best interests of the children, regardless of what either parent says.

In any case, the goal of any custody deal is to try to avoid conflicts, not create them. To create a practical framework for a relationship between the two divorced co-parents that makes life workable while keeping the children’s best interests in mind. And most issues are practical, caretaking ones. Where do the children live, and when and how often? Where do they go to school? What if any medical situations need to be dealt with and when? How are holidays and vacations allocated? Who pays for school tuitions or summer camps or other child-specific expenses? Etc.

Divorce Agreement (Separation Agreement)

When you get married it’s a contractual relationship, meaning it’s governed by contract (and other) law. So to divorce, you need a new contract—a Divorce Agreement, aka a Separation Agreement.

This is true in every state—as is the requirement that your Divorce Agreement be approved by a judge. You do not need a lawyer to do a Divorce Agreement, you can do one yourself, or work with a mediator (which is different than a lawyer; see Mediator,) but you always need to get it approved by a judge.

Separation Agreements can be one page long or a thousand. They can cover just the minimum the law requires or the most arbitrary or bizarre details, say, what color underwear your kids wear on what days.

If the two divorcing people have agreed to sign their Divorce Agreement, a judge will usually approve it. With a few important caveats: The judge will want to determine—sometimes by asking, to your face, in the courtroom—that both parties understand the specifics of their Agreement, that they had ample opportunity to negotiate and think about it, and that they are signing under their own free will (meaning, they are not feeling undue pressure).

Once a judge approves it, a Divorce Agreement governs the post-marriage relationship of the two parties more or less forever. Of course, over the long course of time the Divorce Agreement may become moot, as its requirements expire or the parties move completely into their new, separate lives. But, for as long as there are obligations or disputes between the parties, the Divorce Agreement rules. If there’s a dispute not covered in the Agreement, it’s either worked out between the parties, or someone sues, goes into court and a judge decides. And that new agreement between the parties, or that judicial ruling, becomes part of the Divorce Agreement.

Note: Because Divorce Agreements are filed with the court, they are public documents. Meaning, anyone can see them. This is how TMZ, the National Enquirer and other gossip outlets get to publish the specifics of celebrity divorces—they go to the courthouse where the celebrity divorce was filed and get a copy of the Divorce Agreement. Does it matter that your Divorce Agreement is public? You may not be worried about TMZ, but how about your friends, and kids? You can be comforted that most courthouse records are not on the internet and won’t be for some time. (There’s way too much cost and work to digitize every court’s records.) Still, given enough time everything ends up on the internet. Maybe the takeaway is, don’t put anything in your Divorce Agreement you don’t want anyone to ever see.

Divorce Coach

If you know what a Life Coach is, you pretty much know what a Divorce Coach is—it’s a Life Coach with a specific, narrow specialty, helping people who are working or struggling through, or just thinking about, a divorce. Many coaches are formally trained and certified, though no broadly agreed upon education standards yet exist for Coaching, and there is no law, regulation or professional association (e.g. like the Bar Association for lawyers) that even requires any certification at all. So do your homework. And bear in mind, like any Coach, a Divorce Coach is not a therapist or psychiatrist. Divorce coaching is a flexible, goal-oriented process designed to support, motivate, and guide people going through divorce to help them make the best possible decisions for their future, based on their particular interests, needs, and concerns.

Divorce Papers

As divorce is a lawsuit, a form of litigation (see Litigation) at some point the divorcing parties have to file appropriate paperwork with a court, typically in the town or county in which the couple reside. These filings, or “Divorce Papers” are almost always very short, simple forms.

To get a divorce started, only one spouse has to file papers. In many cases, because they have together decided to get a divorce, both partners choose to file together, at the same time. But if one party chooses to file papers on their own, at some point the other spouse needs to be informed of that, and given copies of the papers. At which point they then are required to file their own set of papers, telling the court they are aware that the lawsuit (the divorce) has been inaugurated and so the legal process may begin in earnest. Different states have different schedule or calendar requirements for how much time is allowed for these type filings.

Despite what you may have seen in old movies, in almost all states, there’s no need to hire a detective or marshall to “serve” divorce papers on a spouse. Probably, you can simply hand them to him or her. (To find out your state’s requirements, if any, just look it up online.) Of course, if your spouse goes into some kind of weird psychological place, and denies you ever did give them the papers, well then yes, in that case, you do need to hire a process server to “serve” the papers again, and file an affidavit with the court stating that your spouse indeed has been served the papers. But that’s rare—all that weird spouse has done is to buy themselves a little time, and incurred the cost of a process server (of which they’ll have to pay half, of course.)

Typically when filing divorce papers you have to pay some relatively small filing fees, maybe a few hundred dollars. If you’re working with an attorney, they can and should do these filings for you. If you want to save money, look online and find out what court you need to file in, and print out or download the forms and do everything yourself.

Family Property (aka Marital Property, Assets & Debts)

In a divorce or legal split, a big issue is, who gets what? Things which are jointly owned by both splitting partners are called “family property,” “marital assets” or “marital property.” Couples also may have “family liabilities” or “marital debts.” That is, two people in a marriage or civil union may not only jointly own possessions and wealth, they may also have obligations, debts and loans together. Which also need to be divided.

States have varying laws on how things can be sorted out, but in general, the law assumes most things are family property. A big exception is, if the two partners have specifically, already agreed that some assets or debts do not belong to both. That is, if a couple has a “pre-nuptial” or “post-nuptial” agreement—a formal contract they negotiated in the past (not as part of their breakup) that sets out how things get divided in the event of a split—then those pre-existing contracts rule. (See Pre-Nuptial Agreement and Post-Nuptial Agreement.) Of course, if one party claims their post- or pre-nuptial agreement should be considered invalid (say, because they were pressured to sign under duress,) then the parties either need to throw out their previous agreements and start over and renegotiate everything, or go to court and ask a judge to decide.

But the law usually does not impose itself on people; two people can agree to divide things however they want, as long as both state they are doing so informed of their rights and of their free will. And in general the law does not carve out anything—as stated above, unless the parties agree that an asset or a debt does not belong to both, then the law assumes it does, from the most valuable things—the house, mortgage, business, cars, pets, family photos, retirement accounts, etc—to the smallest—food in the kitchen cabinets, the $100 you loaned your best friend, the paper-mache cat (or whatever that is) your kid made in art class. And depending on circumstances, family property can be anything and everything, regardless of how or when stuff was acquired. Say, husband bought a valuable antique car well before he was married. But now, divorcing, many years have passed and the couple have no pre- or post-nuptial agreements, so the car is now a marital asset and the wife is entitled to half its value. (Since you can’t cut a car in half, they either sell it or get it appraised and the husband pays the wife 50% of its value, either in cash or with something else she agrees to take.)

In some places and cases, the duration of a marriage can play a role in determining what is family property. (See Long Term versus Short Term Marriages.)

Future Income

In a divorce or legal breakup, naturally, a couple's existing shared property and debts get divided up one way or another. But the law also may allow for, or even require that, the parties divide up future property, income and debts.

For example, say a wife worked to help pay for her husband’s medical school. A judge could agree he owes her for that, either to reimburse her for the medical school cost, or also to give her some part, maybe even as much as half, of the ongoing and future financial benefit of his being a doctor. That is, of his professional income. But maybe the wife only paid for part of the husband’s medical school costs and the husband has student loans. So the judge also requires that the wife help pay off the loans. Or some other blended formula. Maybe the judge imposes, or the parties agree to, some kind of limits on the deal. For example, maybe the wife only gets a certain amount of money, or only gets a percentage of his income, for a certain number of years.  

It can be complicated. Another example:

Commonly, two spouses exist in their marriage in one household where their two incomes (from all sources) are pooled to cover expenses. With the divorce, they’re breaking into two new households. One new household has her income. One has his. Maybe she earns $200,000/year but he earns $50,000 year. They’ve agreed on how to divide up their possessions and debts, but is he entitled to some of her income in the future? Could be. The usual rationale is, they both are entitled to continue living more or less the same lifestyles as before the divorce, or if that’s not possible, then neither should have their lifestyle reduced that much more than the other. So a judge may rule the husband is entitled to some of her future income. Since as a married couple they had $250,000 combined annual income, maybe after the divorce they both get $125,000 per year each, which means she owes him $75,000 per year. Or some other formula. Local state law may have an effect, too, for example, defining the number of years the wife can be required to pay her ex-husband that way. In any case, often the law allows people to negotiate not just the division of their present circumstances, but also future ones.

Lifestyle

A general term, used to describe the basic financial situation and level of material comforts of an individual, group or family. Divorcing people often try to maintain their married “lifestyle” —the level of comfort to which they were accustomed in the marriage. This can be a big deal if the divorce could leave one partner significantly wealthier than the other. On the other hand, if a divorce requires that both partners reduce their lifestyles relatively equally, there’s nothing to be done. On the other, other hand, if a couple is super-wealthy but after the divorce he’s still going to be super-wealthy but she’s only going to be wealthy, she can argue she needs a particular financial settlement to maintain her super-wealthy lifestyle, or to allow their children to maintain their super-wealthy lifestyle that, on her own, she can’t afford.

For example, say Dad is CEO of a huge business. Mom is a school teacher. Both are hardworking, honorable people. Dad is going to pay Mom very generous alimony (see Alimony.) No problem. But how much child support? Just enough to cover the basics? Food, clothing, health care, schools, occasional vacations? Before the divorce the children had nannies and cooks and flew first class, etc. Mom argues the children should not be deprived of that lifestyle despite that her teacher salary plus the alimony can’t provide it. Dad disagrees; he feels he’s paying plenty already. But Mom persists, they end up in court, the judge agrees with Mom and orders Dad’s child support payments to be ten times higher. Dad hates it but unless he wants to be in contempt of court, he pays. An extreme example, but get it?

Litigation

This is just another word for lawsuit, the legal dispute-resolution process where people or parties go to court to settle a disagreement.

Marriage is a legal contract. A marriage is terminated—that is, a divorce is granted—when the spouses agree to replace their existing contract with a new one, called the Divorce Agreement. (See Divorce Agreement.) This almost always involves some sort of litigation—even if both spouses are the sweetest people who agree easily on everything, their Divorce Agreement must be reviewed and approved by a judge.

Some non-marriage relationships are legal contracts, e.g. “common law” marriages (see Common Law Marriages,) and their end also usually involves a contract and a judge—meaning, litigation.

Some relationships aren’t legal contracts themselves but have elements that are contracts—for example, if two never-married lovers buy a house together, if they later break up and can’t resolve the house ownership they may end up in litigation.

Long Term versus Short Term Marriages

Specifics vary by state, but the duration of a marriage can affect the financial and other settlement terms of a divorce. In a nutshell, in a short marriage, the spouses are presumed to have less close and deep ties than in a longer one. So, for example, a wife may argue that because the marriage was so short, some amount of money that belonged to her prior to getting married should not be now considered marital property, belonging to both of them (see Marital Property.) If the law allows and the judge agrees, that would mean she gets to keep all that particular money herself and not divide it up. Conversely, if that couple was married for a long time, then the fact that certain money belonged to the wife before the marriage will not be taken into account and it will all get divided.

The duration of a marriage may also factor into calculations about alimony, future income and other financial matters. But when it comes to custody and child support, the overriding concern is the best interests of the children. (See Child Support.) So regardless of a marriage duration, if splitting parents are fighting over where and when the child will live and a judge has to weigh in, then who can provide the best home and environment for the child will be the judge’s primary concern, much more than some math equation that takes into account marriage duration. Likewise, in the big picture, child support calculations do not depend on how long a child’s parents were together—they first and foremost depend on how much it’s reasonable to assume it will cost to provide care and comfort to the child and how much each parent can afford on their own.

States have various thresholds for short versus medium versus long term marriages. Some states have three categories, for example, 0-7 years; 7-17 years; and 17+ years. If you think this may matter to you, do your homework and find out if any laws or regulations apply in your state. 

Mediator

A mediator is a licensed professional who acts as a facilitator, a knowledgeable but neutral “middle man,” to help two parties in a divorce (or any dispute) negotiate a legal settlement. The process of getting credentialed to be a mediator varies by state.

It’s important to remember that even if the mediator you hire is an attorney, that they are not your advocate. The key difference between hiring a mediator versus an attorney is that an attorney has one client. You. Or your ex. An attorney therefore is an advocate for only one side, whose professional responsibility is to protect and further the interests of their client, even if that is at the expense of the other side, or requires a biased interpretation of a law or circumstance.

A mediator works for both parties and does not take sides. A mediator’s professional responsibility is to get a deal done, any deal, as long as its lawful, and to understand their state’s laws enough to have that settlement be found lawful and approved by a judge.

In divorces, the upside of using a mediator is the process tends to be less expensive and faster. The mediator does not want to hear, and will push back against having to listen to, your problems. Or your ex’s problems. Or complaints. Or stories. Or anything except getting a deal done, relatively quickly.

All good, right? But there’s a downside risk, too. From a mediator’s perspective, a divorce is basically a list of boxes that need to get checked off. Property accounted for and divided? Check. Children accounted for and custody deal in place? Check. Alimony calculated, if any? Check. When all the boxes are checked, you’re done, and off the deal goes to a judge.

But it could be a bad deal. No one is looking out for, let alone protecting, your interests. That’s not a mediator’s job. The mediator is not looking out for either party’s interests. Most mediators try to be fair, of course, but then in the end, what’s fair? So the mediator focuses on just getting the deal done. And you can end up getting the minimum lawful deal, despite that you arguably deserve a better one. Or just a cleaner, simpler, or  more comprehensive one.

Again, a mediator is not responsible for either, both or neither party getting a good deal, or even the right deal, as long as the parties agree to the deal and it conforms to law. If you show up to a mediator meeting high on drugs, or just in a totally weird mood, and agree to give all your money and property to your ex, leaving you penniless and unemployed, well, ok fine. That’s your call. The “division of family property” box gets checked and the mediator moves on. But any half-decent lawyer representing you would never let that happen.

In a situation where the two parties just can't agree, a mediator will attempt to bridge the gap. But they’re not out to win prizes for creativity. They’ll start by saying, meet halfway. And if that doesn't work, they’ll offer slight deviations from halfway and see who caves first. Box checked, moving on.

Finally, if you ask a mediator for an opinion, most will not give it. They’ll always offer you their understanding of the law and how it applies to your deal—for example, if you have no idea what alimony is or if you’re entitled to it, they’ll explain your state’s laws and how they may apply, given whatever the mediator knows about your situation. But if you have a lawyer, they may believe you should get more than the law allows, and pursue a strategy to fight to get that.

“No Fault” Divorce

In the past, the law required that couples could not get a divorce unless one or both was found to be “at fault”—guilty of some legal transgression that, in the eyes of a court, made the marriage unsalvageable. Otherwise, the couple had to stay married, no matter how miserable they were or how they both wanted out. And judges didn’t just take a person’s word that their spouse was at fault: If you sued for divorce, you needed some evidence or proof your spouse was guilty of some such offense, e.g. adultery, “mental cruelty,” etc. As amply dramatized in popular culture over the years, this gave rise to a seamy industry of private detectives who acquired evidence for divorce suits.

But the really bad consequence of these antiquated divorce laws was, if a couple wanted to get a divorce just because they were tired of each other, somebody still had to be found to be at fault. It didn’t matter if both husband and wife wanted out, a divorce could only be granted if someone was found guilty of some legal transgression, even if it was all just silly theatrics. So the perceived public humiliation of this “at fault” requirement kept many unhappy couples married for many unhappy years.

Thank goodness, we no longer live in those times. Judges and lawmakers no longer believe it is the court’s or government’s job to force any person to stay in any marriage. In the mid 20th century, various US states began creating new divorce laws, eliminating the need for somebody to be “at fault”—ergo, the name “no fault.” Today nearly every state allows “no fault” divorces. No one has to be guilty of anything. No one can be forced to stay in a marriage, period. If one person in a marriage wants a divorce, their wedlock can and will be ended, period.

And despite what you may have seen in old movies, because of “no fault” laws, today the old “at fault” transgressions are technically no longer available to use to try to extract concessions in a divorce. For example, if you discover your spouse is cheating, you have every right to be enraged and get divorced, but unlike the old days you probably do not have the right to claim that your partner’s infidelity means you’re owed money or damages.

Of course, the liberalization of divorce laws has not changed human nature. Divorce attorneys (and all people) still try to use negative portrayals of people either to influence a judge’s decisions (judges are just human, too) or attack a person to try to make them agree to things. Threats and extortion are still used, even if such bullying no longer has any real basis under law.

Pre-Nuptial Agreement

A Pre-Nuptial Agreement is a contract, negotiated and signed by two partners who plan to marry but before they actually do, that describes, often in considerable detail, what will happen if the couple divorces in the future. In short, it’s an advance Divorce Agreement, in case later there’s a split. (“Pre” just means the agreement has been signed before a marriage. “Nuptial” is just another word for “marriage.”)

There is no legal requirement anywhere for any couple to ever have a pre-nuptial agreement. Most couples do not have one. Those that do have such agreements tend to be couples where perhaps one or both partners has been married and divorced before, and experienced things they don’t want to again. Or where one or both partners have property or wealth, or businesses or deals, they want to make certain remain outside the marriage and do not become family property. (See Family Property.) Or where one or both partners simply has strongly held views on what certain divorce terms should be if there ever is one, and they want to get it on paper and agreed to ahead of time.

This is not to say that any couple who wants one can not have a pre-nuptial agreement. Anyone can.

Like all contracts, pre-nuptial agreements can be one page or a thousand pages long. There’s no standard, it's entirely up to the couple what does or does not go into a pre-nuptial agreement.

If a couple with a pre-nuptial agreement does get divorced, it’s not always certain how effective that agreement will be. Various states treat pre-nuptial agreements in various ways—in some places they are very strictly enforced, in some places less so, and in all states a divorcing spouse can go into court to say that their pre-nuptial agreement should not be enforced because of some mitigating circumstance—for example, if a spouse can claim convincingly that he or she was coerced into signing the agreement, or did not receive fair legal counsel before doing so.

Post-Nuptial Agreement

A post-nuptial agreement is exactly the same thing as a pre-nuptial agreement, except that the two partners who create and sign it are already married at the time they do.

Restraining Order

As in other situations, in a divorce process one party can ask a judge to limit another party’s physical access to certain people or places or things. If the judge agrees to do this, the judge’s ruling is called a Restraining Order—as the name implies, it restrains a person or persons from doing certain things or being in certain places. Most judges look very poorly on attorneys or people who come looking for restraining orders without very, very compelling grounds for seeking one. Being legitimately scared for someone’s or something’s safety and security is a compelling reason. Just being totally pissed off is not.

We’re living one of the greatest experiments in the history of humankind, to try to create what has throughout history been considered a contradiction in terms: the passionate marriage. We’re asking so many things from one person. We’re asking one person to give us what once an entire village would provide. And couples are crumbling under the weight of so much expectations. Very few people achieve marital bliss. A lot more are miserable from it. They think they’re deficient.
—Esther Perel

Welcome.

If you’re here, I assume you’re in an unhappy marriage or other committed relationship, or someone you care about is, or you’re not really sure how you feel about things and you’re looking for a way to try to sort out complicated, confusing feelings.

That was me, too.

And that’s why I started this work.

Creating a course like this is a new thing for me. I’ve got no prior professional experience in coaching or relationship advice. Previously I was a startup entrepreneur (you can check me out in the About section.) But a few years ago my marriage went sideways, and my ex and I both knew it, and we went through therapy and other avenues and ultimately made what we thought was the best decision, but was actually a horrible mistake:

We stayed together.

The result was a period of unhappy years, utterly unnecessary woe, followed by a much more difficult divorce—an unnecessarily painful one. And with hindsight, I ascribe that more wrenching breakup to our forced bottling up of our feelings and our true desire: to move on. But we stayed…

And that really got me thinking. About how nuts my ex and I were, to have done that. Why were we so foolish? We didn’t start out that way. And let me tell you, right here: my ex is an awesome person, partner and parent. This isn’t a blame game. Also, while eventually we became irreconcilably unhappy, before that we were more or less content for some 20 years. It wasn’t a perfect union. (Does such a thing exist?) We had plenty of potholes and misfires. But by most conventional measures, we were a decent success. And as I said, we knew we’d reached the end, and even went to therapy to try to sort it out. So why couldn’t we do the seemingly obvious, logical, beneficial thing? Why couldn’t we just acknowledge reality? Apparently we both were suffering from, what? Delusion? Paralysis from fear or shame?

My divorce was several years ago. But I haven’t stopped that thinking. And that’s changed my life. Made me a different person. Better? I hope so, but that’s not for me to judge. Different? Definitely. For I now want to devote a major part of my time trying to help people who are just like that previous me. To assist folks in unhappy relationships to at least know what their options are, how the process of unwinding things can work, which issues need to be considered and which ones don’t, and how breakups may feel—euphoric and painful—along the way. And to offer a little reassurance: You’re not alone. You’re not a bad person. You’re not a failure. You’re just a wildly normal human. And if you feel stuck, trapped or unsure about an unhappy relationship, you have two perfectly good, workable options: Stay. Or, go.

You can consume the material here any way you wish. It’s available as videos, podcasts, downloads, even a high quality paperback book. I suggest a sequence to follow, but you can navigate in any order. Almost all segments are followed by brief “Exercises,” some abstract thought experiments, some very practical, but all conceived as a way for you to not just listen to me, but to start to listen to yourself, too. What do you really feel about this or that? Offered a simple, clear explanation of a plan you may have to make, map out what you might actually do. Finally, I offer a lot of what I call Additional Resources, readings, links, music and playlists, videos and podcasts that I hope will be informative and even fun. Breaking up is rarely party time, but it doesn’t have to be a funeral—and for the sake of everyone involved, I believe it shouldn’t be one. After all, sometimes when we’re feeling blue or confused it’s best to just crank up a good tune and dance like a nutjob.

In addition to my own personal experience, I cite a lot of other experts, counselors, quotes and media offerings. I hope you find them as useful as I do. But, while in my searching for others’ wisdom I looked hard for other coaching or advice specifically for people who want to explore breaking up, I found basically none. Yes, there are millions of programs, coaches, whatever, that help people work harder and recommit, try to renew stale or unhappy relationships. But ones that say, Come on already, maybe it’s best to just break up and move on? Few, if any.

So probably this is a first for you, too. And you’re wondering, so where does this end? Where does it lead me? And leave me? Well, know one thing: I have no idea if you should break up. I don’t know you. But hopefully this material will lead you to a place of greater knowledge and understanding about what all your options are, and how breakup stuff works and feels, and how to candidly assess your possible futures. And to really, really know: There’s more than one.

Given the title of this work, you probably know what I think most people in unhappy relationships should do. But like I said I don’t know you, so if you’ll forgive the metaphor, in the end I have to leave you at the altar. Break up, stay put, do something, do nothing, that’s up to you.

So what do you think? Check it out?

I ❤ Marriage

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I’m very in favor of marriage.

Straight, gay and otherwise.

I buy the “traditional values” view that marriages and nuclear families are essential to a successful culture, to creating a society that provides an optimal foundation for people, particularly kids, with the love, education and support humans need to try to pursue happiness.

And that view is more than just a totem—it’s a fact, supported by science and empirical data.

But I also have an open mind about what is a “family,” and what makes a family functional, best able to offer such foundations.

So I’m also very in favor of divorce.

Of people breaking up unhappy relationships.

I think the alternative—staying—is worse. For nearly everyone.

A successful family does not have to have two adults, let alone two “committed” ones. Or the same two adults for eternity. Or, well, anything in particular. Whatever works, works. We’re homo sapiens, an unusually intelligent, resourceful species. We invent, explore and engineer the universe as our default setting. We can have successful societies and great lives and families whether we stay with one partner or not.

There, of course, I depart from some of the more strident notions about “traditional values.” Most important, I don’t care what culture, religion or history have to say about, well, much of anything. Call me crazy, but I prefer to make up my own mind. For example, I reject that marriage, or any form of lifetime couple-dom, is an end unto itself. That there’s some ultimate reward or dignity gained through relationship perseverance. Instead, I buy the cliche—the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results.

I likewise reject that relationship persistence is a form of altruism. We can take care of others and ourselves. We can be selfless yet not deny our self—a unique organism with but one life, and complex emotions and thoughts that are not ennobled by denying them. Or by acting as though “sucking it up” makes us a more mature or better person. Or by turning from the world, persuaded that denying longings is more enlightened than acknowledging them.

Of course, I don’t live in any time or culture other than my own, so I won’t—I can’t—judge too broadly. I acknowledge that, today and throughout history, most humans say, do and believe what they think is right at the time. But as I live here, and now, in what by most measures is a blessedly modern, liberal culture, I will be judgmental about that:

For modern humans “til death do us part” may be the dumbest oath ever.

I mean, ‘til death? Really? No matter how long we live? No matter how unhappy a person is? No matter how many indignities one may suffer?

Sorry, no.

F*** it, get a divorce.

It’s not virtuous to suffer. No one gets into paradise based on how masochistic they are. It’s not heroic to limit one’s own potential—or let circumstances or others do so.

In truth, for some of us, “‘til death” is an archaic, unrealistic pledge, even as we say it. We live in the modern world, getting more so by the nanosecond, and we know what that can mean to longterm relationships. So some of us say those words out of nostalgia for simpler times, or some aspiration to banish loneliness, but we don’t say such things out of a belief that we won the lottery—that, somehow, we randomly met another human who’s so right for us they’ll make us content day in, and day out, decade after decade. We certainly hope and pray for that, but we also know that far too often time changes everything and everyone.

Now, I’m not saying we should abandon ship at the first sign of rough weather. On that, I am a traditional “traditional values” person. Functional relationships and families aren’t received. They’re manufactured, through continuous recommitment, honesty, communication, humility, self-awareness, and hard work—and a willingness to forgive, then forgive again.

So no, I don’t think you should quit your relationship easily. You were happy the day you got hitched and for good reason—your partner is a good person who you loved that day, and on so many other days, and who loved you. It’s absolutely worth it to work hard to sustain that blessed state, that flickering candle of human harmony.

But let’s be real: Sometimes the candle flickers out. Actually, it does so quite often. And sometimes we run out of matches—one or both partners has irretrievably lost their basic emotional attachment. The candle is never getting relit.

So then what? Do nothing? While away what may be eons of remaining life in longing and resentment?

No.

F*** it, get a divorce.

It’s ok to have not won the lottery.

More important, it’s not only ok to want to move on from an unhappy coupling, it’s normal and wise to do so. Our right to “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” doesn’t end or get restricted when we pair off. Hopefully, that pairing is an exciting, core part of that pursuit, but if it turns out the relationship has stopped being fulfilling, no longer provides the comfort, security, inspiration—the love—which was our expectation when we entered it, then, well, duh. We really do only get one life. Why would someone who can move on, can start over, can return to the basic human quest for a little happiness, choose to not do so?

As you’re undoubtedly thinking: For all sorts of good reasons.

Loyalty. Fear. Money. Kids. Inertia.

That was me and my ex, alright. And we made the worst decision: To be righteous. Hang in there. Dig deep. Persevere. Keep it going if not for ourselves then for the family, the kids, the image.

Whatever lofty words are used to describe it, truth is, it was dumb. And a path to hurt. Our marriage was done and we knew it. But we wouldn’t face it. We’re not quitters. We’re taking one for the team. Even though “the team”—us and our kids—became happier as a result of our divorce, not the slog years. Our ostensibly noble motives were actually a pressure cooker, which made our ultimate break up much more painful than it would have been had we just been honest and said:

F*** it. Get a divorce.

What stopped us? We caved. To fear. Cultural pressure. Internal personal pressure. Anxiety over being perceived a failure. Of hurting the kids (a false fear, as you’ll see.) And of course, we caved to inertia. The devil we knew. That devil.

By the way, please know, up front, emphatically: None of this is to blame or point fingers at my ex. She was—is—terrific. Charming, brilliant, loving, funny, generous. A great partner and parent. That’s why I fell in love and married her. And despite many years and life changes she was still that basic, good, loving person. She still is. But even great loving people make that bad, keep-going decision, despite that after those many years, from dating to mating and marriage, kids, careers and all the rest… the thrill is gone. To put it mildly.

Now we’re divorced, amicable exes and co-parents. Yay! But it sucked getting here. Expensively, awkwardly, destructively sucked, sucked, sucked and sucked. It sucked. And all because we were unwilling to just face reality and decide. To just deal with it. For the longest, stupidest time. And we paid the price.

But you don’t have to.

F*** it. Get a divorce.

Let me tell you what this programs isn’t:

It’s not a textbook explaining arcane divorce issues. It’s not a how-to manual for getting away with anything or besting anyone. It’s not a bunch of tips on how to get more, give less or work the system. The premise here is, be amicable and generous regardless of circumstances. You’re unhappy so end the unhappiness, but aim for the best possible split and new beginning. Get expert help, divide things fairly, leave kids out of it and don’t do or say anything you may regret later—later arrives quickly and you don’t want your old unhappiness haunting you.

Most importantly, this isn’t a program where I pressure you to do what I think. Yes, I say what I think and lean on you a little. But only to try to help you decide—what do you want to do?

Is this you?

I made a commitment. For better or for worse. I can’t just walk.

But I’m unhappy. And I have little certainty that’ll change. Don’t I deserve to try to be happy?

Divorce is failure. I’m not a quitter. I’m resilient. Dedicated. Failed marriages are for failed people.

But I’m exhausted. My relationship isn’t satisfying anymore. It was hot but now it’s cold. In truth, I don’t even look forward to being with my partner. It’s a chore.

But I need to be an adult. I made my choices. Who said long term relationships stay exciting? Actually, everyone says all relationships cool. I’m acting like a spoiled child.

But I miss intimacy. Holding hands and meaning it. Snuggling. Kissing. Pillow talk. And sex. I really miss sex. Is that wrong?

I know I shouldn’t, but I do care what other people think. If my marriage fails, people will judge me. I can’t handle that.

But I don’t even have dreams anymore. I’m trapped. How can I stay in an unhappy place for so many more years? Decades!

But I don’t even know what it’s like to be single anymore. I’m a couple now. That’s my identity. My social circle. My life.

But I’m missing out. Missing feeling life can be an adventure. I only get one life. Shouldn’t I try to get as much out of it as possible?

Who am I kidding? I can barely manage life with my partner pitching in. How will I juggle work, parenting, money and housekeeping on my own?

If that’s at all familiar, this program may be for you. It’s a mix of the personal and practical—been-there-done-that reminiscences, plus some science and data, plus interactive exercises to help you start re-imagining your life in privacy and safety. How does one prepare for a breakup? What’s it like to say, It’s over? What happens next? And next? What are the hangovers? The emotional gauntlet we navigate after the breakup?

Spoiler alert, here’s the whole enchilada: You want to go? Go. Unhappy relationships are normal. Messy lives are normal. Trepidation and paralysis are normal. You’re not alone. If you’re guilty of anything, it’s only of being human. No shame. You’re off the hook. Free to do as you wish. You can reinvent yourself, over and over, and pursue happiness as you see fit. There’s still time and opportunity. There’s always time and opportunity. And with the right mindset and preparation, no one needs to get badly hurt. Breaking up is always a disruption, but it doesn’t have to be a tragedy. And shouldn’t be. The end result can be upbeat, a fresh start, a shedding of seething, resentments and unhappinesses, for everyone. In the end, it’s not the end, it’s a beginning, with relief and renewal, and not just for you.

So come join us other frail humans? All us reasonably well-adjusted, reasonably smart, reasonably functional folks who find ourselves in a rut, gripped by indecision, feeling isolated, hamstrung by anger, confusion, fear and shame? There’s no magic remedy here but we’ll breathe deep and mull over some of the issues involved with moving on from a longterm relationship. You’re not obligated to do anything, except consider. Think.

And remember: There’s no guarantee you’ll make no mistakes, feel no pain. You will. Breaking up hurts. No matter what. It’s one of the most profound life events, involving deep reflection, emotions running rampant, tempers flaring and people getting bruised. I wish I could save you from all that. But no can do.

Still, I say:

F*** it. Get a divorce.

I think for most of us the price is worth it. I think it’s better to feel than to not feel. Which means life hurts sometimes. And avoiding hurt means avoiding life. Some years ago I was lucky to do work with the great life coach (and friend) Jerry Colonna. My problem is I get too emotional about things, I told Jerry, I need to stop feeling everything so much. What should I do?

Nothing. Jerry said. You’re human. An emotional being. That’s what being human is. Turning off emotions is to be less human. Is that what you want? We all know people who’ve done that. Do you really want to be more like them?

I don’t. So I embarked on a mission: To feel grateful for life itself. Hurts, indignities and all. It’s a constant struggle. I fail often. When life sucks, it’s hard to be thankful. But by at least trying, more living is possible. More opportunities. Because I spend less time brooding. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it. And the alternative—more anger and despair—is worse.

Ditto, unhappy relationships. Meaning, if we prepare ourselves, and try to stay focused on the positives, the hard breakup stuff can be lived more easily. Moving on needn’t be a zero-sum game, with “winners” and “losers.” With forethought, and basic gratitude for life, everyone can emerge with love and dignity. A break up is not a death. It’s a birth. Painful and messy, but also something new and wonderful.

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So. Here’s your first Exercise. Say this out loud:

I’m in an unhappy relationship. I’m thinking about leaving. Which means I’m a normal, good person.

Earth still turning?

Get Happy

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Happiness requires the ultimate sacrifice: To give up one’s unhappiness.
—Marty Rubin

Are you unhappy?

What is happiness? Philosophers, artists, preachers, therapists and gurus eternally ponder that, grasping for positive definitions, distillations of the essence of contentment.

Not me. I give up. The question’s too neat. Happiness isn’t a thing. It’s a whimsy, a “know it when I feel it” ephemera. And each person’s happiness is unique to them, evolving and changing moment by moment.

So then, what the heck? The main premise of this program is that we all deserve to seek happiness. And should do so. And so therefore, by definition, we should not stay in unhappy relationships. But if I can’t even be bothered to say what happiness is, how dare I tell people to turn their worlds upside down, to go after it?

Easy.

See, here we rely on a negative definition of happiness. Meaning, I’m pretty confident I know what’s it’s not.

Or at least, it feels like relief. Like our inner balance scale, with happy on one side and unhappy on the other, is tilting just a wee bit more to the happy side.

For me, that’ll do.

I’m not going to try to convince you I know what happiness is for you. Or for anyone. But I am going to try to persuade you that we can best pursue happiness, whatever it may be, by eliminating people and things that make us unhappy.

I mean, if I jab you with a pin, when you grab the pin away, you feel happy, not because grabbing the pin is a “happy” event in and of itself, but from getting rid of the poking. Imagine I wasn’t jabbing you. Would you feel happy grabbing a pin away from me? I know, it’s not a shattering or novel insight. But I’ll take it. Because it works here. Here, it doesn’t matter that I don’t have a clue what happiness is for you because if I do know you’re in an unhappy situation, then I feel confident saying that eliminating unhappiness is a positive. It’s just common sense.

Clear as mud?

1. I won’t pretend I know how to make you happy.

2. If you say you’re unhappy, I accept that you are.

3. I’ll try my best to help you become less unhappy.

Deal?

⇼

By the way, this is not relationship therapy. Or personal therapy. The world is full of valuable and wise “fix your relationship” and “fix yourself” counsel. But this isn’t that.

Probably, you’re perplexed how you got from “there” to “here”—from delight and sex to tedium and texting. We blink and ten years have passed. What happened? Naturally, we want to try to understand. Just, not here. Relationships go sour in a million ways, but for our purposes, it doesn’t matter how you got to an unhappy place. All that matters is, you’re unhappy. And that, maybe that can change.

Yes, it does matter why your relationship isn’t working or may never work again. Yes, it matters what choices you made, what you did well and poorly, and what you may be able to do better going forward by being more reflective and self-aware. But still, this isn’t therapy. It can’t be. I don’t know you. And in any case, I believe that regardless of how one gets in a funk, the single most important step towards getting out is to be able to say, I’m in a funk. And I want it to stop.

It doesn’t matter how you got there. You’re in an unhappy relationship. And that’s totally OK. And marriage is indeed a valuable, important institution. And commitment is essential to successful relationships. But it’s no sin, no failure, to find oneself feeling unhappy to be bound to one human for an entire life. On the contrary, it’s utterly predictable. Most couples today end up unhappy. In the modern age, it’s just not reasonable to think two people will meet, randomly, then commit for life, then not come to regret that decision, ever, decade after decade. Both of them.

Of course, the decision to move on is a huge one, a literal life changer in every possible way. To even think about making such a momentous choice, maybe it’s best to start small, carefully consider whatever factors should go into such a resolve. Say, like answering a basic question:

Are you unhappy?

Of course, most people feel they are just one “me,” just one person for their entire lives. But there’s an interesting counter view: Actually, we’re not just one person. The “me” of 20 years old is quite literally a different “me” at 40. And 60. Or wherever we place the age breaks. Consider: if the “you” of 20 met the “you” of today, would they agree on everything? Violently disagree on some things? Think the other one was an utter fool or even repugnant about anything?

For this exercise, try to imagine: What will make your “me” of, say, 20 years from now unhappy? Or happy?

And don’t just imagine all this in your head. Make a visual aid. There are several, excellent, free smartphone apps that can eerily, accurately age your selfie pictures, showing what you will probably look like X years in the future. Download one of these apps. Age your own picture 20 years. Print out that “Future Me” picture, put it in a nice frame on your desk or someplace you see it often, and get in the habit of asking “Future Me”: What are you unhappy about? How long have you felt that way? Was there anything I (now) could have done to make your life less unhappy?

There are many “make me look old” apps. Search “make me look old” on the Google Play or iTunes App Stores. Or here’s one well reviewed app, Oldify.

Lawyers

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You can’t get what you want
‘til you know what you want

—Joe Jackson

Lawyers suck. Get one.

⇼

Do you shudder at the thought of dealing with lawyers? That’s understandable. Attorneys speak in jargon, so talking to them can be tough. They’re highly educated specialists, so they can come off as arrogant. And they’re expensive. And the legal system feels like a Rubik’s Cube. So it’s completely natural to be apprehensive. Still:

If you’re in a bad relationship, don’t let attorney anxiety keep you there.

Ending a longterm relationship is almost always a legal affair, so you need legal advice. It’s that simple. Dealing with lawyers can stink, but the worst breakup experience lasts a year or so. Often less. Staying in an unhappy couple? That lasts forever.

Or maybe it’s tempting to think, I can deal with this. Divorces are fairly routine things. I’m no genius but I’m smart enough. And I’ve got Google. Just like we can all fix our own cars and do the dentistry work on our kids? You’re not a legal professional. You’re in a highly emotional place. So don’t negotiate your own deal. And if you somehow do end up bartering with your ex, make it clear such talks aren’t final, everything’s open to revision after an attorney can be consulted.

Then consult one.

And a quick word re: mediators.

They’re awesome. Just don’t depend on them.

The attraction of mediation is it’s cheaper, faster and friendlier. While lawyers can be expensive, slow and antagonistic.

All true.

But the reason I say people shouldn’t depend on mediators is exactly that: Mediators aren’t advocates. They don’t represent anyone. They’re in the middle, taking no sides, which keeps things amicable and speedy, until later you realize: The mediator didn’t consider anyone’s best interests. If they’re staying neutral, they can’t. Their job is, get a deal done quickly—any deal that’s legal. If someone says yes to a bad idea, ok. If an issue should be ironed out but the law says it can be ignored, ok.

Mediators may be good people and genuinely care about you, but they don’t know you and they’re not paid to wonder if things are good for you. They’re not advocates, they’re facilitators. If the parties agree to an awful idea or don’t consider its ramifications, well whatever, mark and move, next question.

Which doesn’t mean mediators can’t provide great help. Good ones can create an amicable, get-things-done environment, hashing out minimums, avoiding spats. Just, never agree that deal is final. Require any final agreement to be reviewed by attorneys. If your ex chooses not to, that’s their (dumb) choice. But you? Talk to a lawyer.

A lawyer is an expert advocate. Your expert advocate. With one job—representing your interests. Your deal is critical now, and also often impactful far into your future. No decent lawyer will let you agree to anything without first explaining what they think and why. And how they represent you is up to you. Maybe you say, get everything, give nothing, scorch the Earth. Maybe you say, get my fair share but no fights, keep us friends.

A close friend used a mediator for her divorce. He was smart and kind. Both my friend and her ex liked him. They finished quickly and inexpensively. The Judge signed the deal and presto chango: Divorced! Everyone was happy.

For a few months anyway.

Under their agreement, the ex-husband paid child support, partially funded as a percentage of his bonus pay (and partially funded as a fixed monthly amount.) But the deal only let her know once a year how much that bonus amount would be, at the time he handed over her percentage. She didn’t mind because he only got paid his bonus once a year, and he’d had the same job forever and loved it, so she felt she knew roughly what to expect.

Then he got a new job. But he didn’t tell her how much he was getting paid. Their deal didn’t require him to. She pressed him but he’d only say his salary hadn’t changed and a bonus hadn’t been decided and could be zero. She asked for documentation but he refused, which was entirely his right. So now child support was maybe less than she thought she’d agreed to, maybe a lot less. But other than once a year, she couldn’t know and even then it was just his word. He had no obligation to provide any documentation, ever.

It got ugly and painful, for months.

Finally, she got a lawyer. Who advised they had the legal right to contact his new company and request employment information. The lawyer also recommended they send the ex-husband a lawyer letter, explaining that if necessary the lawyer would haul him into court to explain himself to a Judge. Off went the letters. Which made the situation even more bitter. And my friend spent $1,000. And would have spent much more if they went to court.

But the company quickly disclosed the ex-husband’s employment terms. And rather than gamble on the sympathies of a Judge, the ex-husband signed a new deal, guaranteeing transparency and certainty about child support.

And there in a nutshell is the problem with mediation. No one did anything wrong during mediation. They got a legal divorce agreement. No one violated it. But during negotiation, no one professionally looked out for anybody. A deal got done quickly but poorly, avoiding conflict today but lighting a fuse.

Lawyers have only one job: Protecting your ass. While it may cost you a bit, it will be money well spent.

So. Now that I’ve extolled the virtues of divorce lawyers, let me point out the by-far worst thing about them:

A divorce lawyer always has a conflict of interest with her client: The messier the divorce, the more money she makes.

You want the best possible deal, quickly, cheaply and with minimal hurt. But the slower and more difficult your divorce is, the more fees your attorney collects.

YUCK.

But so what. If you listen well and speak up, that conflict can be managed, minimized, even nullified. So no matter what, my message is the same: At some point in your breakup, get a lawyer. To educate yourself and—at minimum—review your deal before you sign anything. Again: If you’re ending a relationship with legal issues (kids, co-owned assets, whatever) you need legal counsel.

Before I said: Lawyers suck. Get one. Now I’ll add:

And manage her.

Before you even meet a lawyer, embrace a simple idea: You are the decider. Be a good listener and always consider your lawyer’s view, but in the end decide for yourself what’s best. And don’t look back, don’t second guess, just keep on to the next issue.

Say what you think even when you’re confused. Or nervous. Which you will be. A lot. We all are. But so what. News flash: Sometimes you’ll be wrong. So what. You’ll do fine. No one can make decisions about your life better than you. And remember: Even Ted Williams, maybe the best hitter ever in baseball, only hit .406. Which means he didn’t get a hit 6 times out of 10.

And never be afraid to talk fees.

It’s your money. You have every right—and obligation—to try to spend it responsibly. Make sure your lawyer knows you’re budget sensitive and what your limits may be. (And I don’t care how wealthy you think you are—you’re budget sensitive.) Or just say, I know everything is subject to change, but ballpark guess, how much should I budget to work with you and get my deal done?

If they balk, walk. Any decent lawyer will be comfortable talking about how much things may end up costing, and why. They’ll understand you have limits and if they think there’s a problem, they’ll say so. And if you’re not OK with that, politely walk away and find another lawyer. The world is full of them.

If you don’t like pressure and lawyers just plain make you feel intimidated, congratulations, that’s normal. Just never forget:

You don’t have to do anything because a lawyer says so.

You may want to. You may not. Take whatever time you want to make up your mind. And change your mind. Again and again. Everything’s always your call, for one simple reason:

You’re the boss. The lawyer is your employee. Not the other way around.

They’re there to advise you, educate you, give you the benefit of their knowledge and experience, maybe even comfort and console you, but regardless, they work for you. And they know it, and they’re good with it, because it’s just the truth.

And if you don’t take charge, you’ll create a vacuum, and the attorney may fill it, assert control if for no other reason than if no one does, the deal won’t get done. But then you get what the attorney thinks best, not you.

Also, if you don’t take charge you risk getting rolled by your ex. Your attorney may cave on things because that’s the signal your detachment sends: I don’t really care, just get it done.

Why risk any of that when the solution is simple:

Speak up.

One of my oldest friends had an amazing career in Hollywood. For years he was a successful talent agent, representing big stars and directors. I was so impressed. Nothing in his education or background suggested that path so obviously he was a natural born genius at negotiation. So I asked him: Teach me to be a great negotiator? He just chuckled. Easy, he said, Just tell people what you want.

Meaning, almost no one does. Everyone’s too nervous. Or thinks they have to be crafty or sophisticated. But great negotiators know: You stand a much better chance of getting what you want if you just say clearly what you want.

Ridiculously common sense? A consistent surprise in my life is discovering how few people do this. Most people go through life reluctant to articulate what they want in relationships, in work, in whatever—hoping, I guess, that other people read minds.

Breaking up is no time to pray for clairvoyance. Speak up.

I know, that’s not easy for everyone. If being assertive isn’t your natural disposition, or just speaking up can be a struggle, then maybe start off with a little work with a Divorce Coach. By now we’ve all heard of Life Coaches, professionals who don’t just listen to our heart and soul baring like a therapist, but also actively talk back at us, offering advice or practical techniques for dealing with issues. Divorce Coaches are just Life Coaches with a very specific focus: Helping people prepare for and live through the challenges of a legal relationship breakup. Good ones are awesome—deeply sensitive, empathic and knowledgeable. And helping people identify what’s important to them, and teaching how and when to speak up, is essentially their number job with any client.

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When your deal’s done, it’s forever. A continuing, meaningful part of your life. But only for you, your ex and kids. The Judge and lawyers forget you instantly.

Own your deal as it happens, not just when it’s done.

What you think, what you want, what you decide must reign supreme every step of the way. Lead from the front or from behind, but lead. If you screw up, whatever. You screw up. Perfection is the enemy of the good. Aim for the good. Fix mistakes when you can. Or just live with ‘em. Don’t think if you let something play out you’ll still get more or less the same deal. News flash: your attorney barely knows you. And sometimes their work make them bleary-eyed: You’re just another case. So sometimes they’re on autopilot. Not because they’re unethical, because they’re human. You and I would be the same. So pay attention all the time, not just the end. Details can be tedious, weird and annoying. So what. It’s your life. And your attorney’s bleary-eyed-ness can be a huge help. Their addled brains are terrific libraries of how things usually work in real life. Always ask, Have you seen this before? The answer is often yes. Then ask, How does it usually get resolved? Is the typical outcome so typical I may as well just go there and save time and trouble?

But just because sometimes lawyers fall into autopilot doesn’t mean you should.

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Concerned your lack of knowledge will hurt you?

Don’t worry about how little you know.

Welcome to Club Normal. Just never hesitate to say, I don’t understand, please explain that again. If after hearing the explanation you’re still not clear, ask again. And again. Until you are clear. (More ridiculously common sense almost no one uses.)

Ask tons of questions—especially ones you think are dumb. They’re not. And if a question is dumb, who cares. It’s your life we’re talking about. Ask whatever you like, as often as you like.

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Simple, huh?

Heck, no. This is scary. You’re not a lawyer, you’re not a business mogul who manages them routinely, maybe you’ve never handled anything like this before. And it’s happening at the worst time—you’re a mess.

But that’s the point. It’s because you’re a mess that I recommend you talk to a lawyer. To start, at least a little, some process for sorting out your thoughts, examining your options, getting out of the mess.

Even if you haven’t made up your mind to break up, talk to a lawyer. The first meeting’s often free. Just ask. No lawyer will allow a free initial consultation to go on for hours, but they’ll give a solid 30 or 60 minutes, focused on you. And if you honestly describe your situation then ask them to speculate a little, they’ll caveat a few million times but they will spitball how things might play out, the process, outcome and fees.

If that feels daunting, get help. Invite a trusted pal to be your wingman, to bolster you. To come to lawyer’s offices, if you want. (Though, to preserve confidentiality, you may want to have your wingman wait in the lawyer’s waiting room.) It’s your call. And remember: Lawyers are humans. Serious, expert professionals, but always, humans. Not some alien race or mutant species, sharkus-homo-sapiens. Visualize your lawyer as your hair stylist. A hair stylist is an important advisor and employee—entrusted with your very self, your image and confidence, your personal brand. Do you choose a hair stylist carefully? Totally. Do you ask their advice? Constantly. Do you follow it? Usually, but not always. Do you let them have final say? Of course not. You’re in charge of you.

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One last thing:

It’s OK to change lawyers.

I’ve worked with many lawyers, in many situations. Not all were brilliant, effective or even honest. Yes, I, self-proclaimed Mr. Expert, lecturing you, screwed up royally, several times. Alas, I too am human. But when I realized I had the wrong lawyer, I fired them. If you screw up, fire yours. There’s no need for some melodramatic scene. A simple, polite email will do.

Lawyers come in all colors, shapes, sizes, intelligences and capabilities. They have brilliant days and awful ones. Talk to more than one. Until you find one you just plain feel good about and feel comfortable talking to. As a person. Check references, of course. But if you don’t feel good about a lawyer, move on. Don’t work with someone you don’t like. The world is full of lawyers.

Still, most lawyers I’ve worked with have been great. Saved my butt. Helped make me successful. And happy. How? By being lawyers. That is, by being knowledgeable and comfortable with the law and how the system works. By giving me honest advice even when I wasn’t listening well.  By keeping costs fair.

It’s so understandable people are wary of lawyers. Attorneys are highly educated, richly rewarded experts with all sorts of privileges and can be tough and arrogant. They know the system much better than most people and unethical ones can work that to their own advantage. But whatever. It’s silly risky—and can be tragic—to enter a legal dispute without legal counsel.

A breakup is a transit to a new life, new opportunities, hopefully exciting new worlds and people. Extricating yourself from a serious relationship inevitably comes with tough challenges and often demanding legal issues. F*** it, get a lawyer. Starting anew is too precious and important to trust to amateurs… like us.

Part 1

Do the The BIG 3—a quick model for a simple master plan to manage your attorney (and your breakup.) Change your mind anytime, but in broad terms decide where you want to end up, and how to get there.

And forget nuances or specifics. This is BIG picture time:

BIG 1: Generally, how should things be divided?

Do you want to divide everything—assets, debts, kids—roughly 50/50? If yes, say so and don’t pretend otherwise—that’s a waste of time, money and good will.

If not, ok, but then what? Your ex can have 100%—you just want to be done? Or your ex can have zero and you’re ready for the fight? Or divide some things 50/50 but not others? And how many of those others are scuffle-worthy? And how far from 50/50 do you think’s right?

Whatever your positions, do you have good reasons for them? Reasons a Judge will agree with, even if your ex doesn’t?

BIG 2: What’s the breakup budget?

How much can you and your ex together spend on your breakup? It’s likely you’ll split the cost roughly equally. (Sorry, get used to it.) So setting emotions aside, how much can you two really afford and not regret it when the heat cools?

The heat cools quickly, probably faster than you expect. So are you going to waste, er, I mean, spend money on score settling? Try not to let present emotions cause you to spend money you later may wish you still had. Is fighting worth an additional $2,000? $5,000? Do you want to spend $5,000 to maybe get $7,500? What’s the emotional cost of the fight worth? If the argument is over something meaningful, maybe it is. But maybe not. Try to be honest with yourself.

In any case, are you at risk of being financially stressed when the breakup is done? Can you contain breakup costs now, so that doesn’t happen? Do. Seriously, do. So few breakup fights feel worth it later, after time has passed.

BIG 3: What’s the breakup schedule?

Is time a factor? Would a speedy breakup benefit you enough that you’d be willing to be less demanding?

Divorces can get done in a few months or a few years—at what point will you so want to be free of the stress that the fight seems counterproductive? How about now? Are you really OK if fighting drags things out?

And try to coordinate your breakup schedule with real life. Who moves out? When? When do you tell the kids? Are there any ticking clocks—any work, school, social or medical things—that may influence a breakup schedule?

Part 2

Lawyer up.

Take a step into attorney world—don’t worry, it’s free, no obligations.

Get personal referrals for divorce lawyers. There’s no better way to find one. Then call a few—not just one—and ask for a free, initial consultation. Almost all will do this. It’s standard.

Then go meet them.

You don’t need to make any commitments. Plan to walk out of meetings saying, Thank you for your time, I have a lot to think over, I’ll be back in touch.

If for any reason whatsoever you don’t like an attorney, just scratch them from your list. Go with your gut – if it doesn’t feel right, it’s not. And feel free to end a meeting abruptly, if you want to. Be polite of course, but just say, I’m sorry, it’s me not you but I’m not comfortable, I think I should be on my way. Most attorneys will be a little surprised, maybe, but they’ll be polite back and that will be that. And if an attorney responds harshly, congratulations, you made the right call!

If cost is an issue, say so. More than once if needed. Ask the lawyer to rough guess how much your divorce will cost. They may squirm, or say (truthfully) that costs vary widely. But then you say, I understand that but I’d still really appreciate at least an estimated range. Say, no more than X but no less than Y. If an attorney has been in business any time at all they know what a typical client ends up spending. So you can ask for that: What does your typical client with a profile like me end up spending? If a lawyer refuses to talk plainly about cost, easy peasey, politely depart. And go meet another.

This process is free but the education is priceless.

F. Scott Fitzgerald famously said, “There are no second acts in American lives.” He was a literary genius, but a relationship dummy. Or pessimist, anyway. Of course there are second acts in American lives. In all lives. As well as third, nineteenth and zillionth acts, too.

If you’re an optimist, that is. If you optimistically reject that a few words—say, til death do us part—eliminate forever the chance to begin anew. Or that bad decisions, or ones that despite good intentions and efforts turned out poorly, are final.

No, optimists think unfortunate, even horrible, situations are natural, inevitable challenges in any well-lived life.

And when it comes to significant relationships, aren’t we all optimists and risk takers? Or, don’t we all at least start that way? If we insisted success be guaranteed, no one would ever get seriously involved. And marriage is the ultimate gamble—the willful ignoring of the unlikelihood that two random people make each other happy, or happy enough, for 50 or 60 years.

Only us hopeful, romantic optimists take that bet. And it’s so worth it, one of the great times of any life. The exciting beginning of a meaningful, loving relationship, a core experience of being human.

But then, as things do, relationships evolve and change. And for some, not for the better. Bonds weaken and strain. Maybe there are good intentions, maybe not. But the connection withers. And doesn’t recover. And that’s so painful, so intense and demoralizing, it can overwhelm the basic optimism that motivated us in the first place. To where we forget we ever had it.

Sound familiar?

Think that’s forever?

If so, sorry, you’re in the wrong place.

But if there’s an optimist somewhere inside you, even just one tiny glowing ember, welcome. Maybe this can be a bellows, an inner-engine restarter, a hopeful guide to moving on, and in a calm, amicable, even loving way. Minimizing hurt. And not just for you.

Many—most—marriages and serious relationships don’t last a lifetime. They just… don’t. But when that happens, here we don’t mourn or seethe. Optimistically, we say, well ok, time to do a reality check. Recommit and dig in for another attempt at rebirthing the relationship? Maybe. But, maybe not. Perhaps it’s time to gently, thoughtfully, caringly put things in order. And take loving care of others. Then go back to being that hopeful you, start fresh, search for happiness again.

That’s what optimists do, right? Fall down but get back up, brush off and keep moving ahead?

Pessimists see a tough situation and think, life is what it is, why bother. Too much risk. Too much possible pain. Staying put in unhappy relationships, they end up on autopilot, alive but barely living.

But optimists see the tough situation and think:

F*** it, get a divorce.

F*** it, my life isn’t over, my chances for reinvention and happiness aren’t limited, I just need to figure out how to move on. I need to be cognizant and careful to avoid bruising myself and others and that’s not easy, and no matter what people will get hurt and so will I, but still, it’s time to change my life—my precious, ever evaporating, one-and-only life.

So, I’m going to.

Sound like you? Or a person you’d like to be, or be again?

Then this course’s for you, optimist.

Moods

16 songs, 1 hour 8 minutes

YouTube (individual videos):

F*** This

16 songs, 1 hour

YouTube (individual videos):

Woe is Me

14 songs, 56 minutes

YouTube (individual videos):

Free at Last,

Free at Last,

Thank God Almighty,

I’m Free at Last

16 songs, 1 hour 9 minutes

YouTube (individual videos):