There is always reason to hope
The material in this post can be difficult. If you need a reminder that healing is real and peace is possible, start here →
There is always reason to hope
Before we talk about anything else — the pain, the decisions, the hard topics that most people avoid — we want to say this clearly and with everything we have: healing is real. We have lived it.
We want to begin with the most important thing we know. Not the most interesting, not the most complicated, not the most surprising — the most important. And it is this: no matter where you are right now, there is always reason to hope.
We know that might be difficult to believe. If you are in the middle of a failing marriage, or standing at the edge of a divorce you never wanted, or already on the other side wondering if the grief will ever lift — the word “hope” can feel hollow. Like something people say when they don’t know what else to say.
We are not saying it that way. We are saying it because we have been in the depths of despair and found our way out. Both of us. Separately, and now together.
Where we each were
Both of us were married to our former spouses for about three decades. We each went through divorces that broke us open in ways we hadn’t expected. Our experiences were very different from each other — the specific pain, the specific circumstances, the specific losses. But we have both arrived at the same place: the belief that our suffering had a purpose, that healing was possible, and that the Lord had not abandoned us.
There were times I secretly wished something would happen to my husband — that perhaps a terrible accident or disease might provide a way out more acceptable than divorce. I wanted to be the one who lived, so I could keep raising my children. I thought becoming a widow would be easier than going through a divorce. I felt like a terrible person for having those thoughts. I share this because I suspect some of you have had thoughts you are also ashamed of, and I want you to know you are not alone — and you are not terrible. You are in pain. You feel trapped with no honorable way out.
It’s still hard to admit, but there were years that I prayed every day that Heavenly Father would let me die. That seemed like the only noble way out — the only way I had left to make things better for everyone. I was not just unhappy. I was convinced that my presence was the problem, and that removing myself was the solution. During this time, I was broadsided by a drunk driver. The crash spun my car around and the airbags deployed. When I came to, my first thought was, “Darn, I’m still alive!” I say this not to shock you, but because I want you to know: if you are somewhere near that place, I understand it. And I also want you to know where I am now — genuinely, completely happy. The Savior made that possible.
Out of those depths, we each learned something that we now hold as one of our most certain beliefs: if you turn to the Savior, and trust in Him and in His timing, there is hope. It will still require some hard work on your part. But it is not just as a possibility for someone else — this can be true for you!
What this site is
This site — and the work it draws from — is our attempt to share what we have learned. Not as experts. Not as therapists or clergy (though we will point you toward both, often). Simply as two people who have lived through something hard and want to help others find a shorter path through it.
We will talk about things that don’t often get talked about in church hallways or family gatherings. The complicated, the messy, the deeply personal. Mental illness. Addiction. Abuse. The shame of a failing marriage. The grief of one that has already ended. The unexpected and incredible joy that can exist on the other side of all of it.
We will share some of our own stories, and more often use fictional but common scenarios to help explain experiences many people share. We will never name or identify our former spouses — we love them, we respect them, and their privacy matters to us deeply.
“Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.”
Matthew 11:29We also want this to be a community, not just a publication. In the months ahead you will find a place to leave comments, share your own story, and connect with others who are walking a similar road. Everything here will be moderated with care. Kindness is not optional; it is the whole point.
A note on faith
Val and Bruce are Christians and members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Our faith is central to who we are, and you will find it woven naturally through everything we share here — in the scriptures we turn to, the hope we hold onto, and the healing we have experienced through Jesus Christ. We also have deep respect and love for those in other faith traditions and beliefs. We have learned valuable lessons from their writings and teachings.
Regardless of where it comes from, we believe wholeheartedly that the principles in this material — about boundaries, healing, self-compassion, honest communication, and finding peace after pain — have value for people of any faith, or no faith at all. Grief is grief. Betrayal is betrayal. The need for healing is universal. You are welcome here exactly as you are. We love and respect you, wherever they are on their journey.
A word about our former spouses
We want to say this plainly, because it shapes everything else here: we love our former spouses. We do not like the word “ex” — it feels too cold for people who were our partners for decades and are still the parents of our children. We refer to them as our former spouses, and we mean it with warmth.
We have no ill will. We want the very best for them. You will not find bitterness or blame in anything we publish here, and we will ask the same of our community. If you are carrying anger toward a former spouse — which is completely understandable and human — this is still the right place for you. We just ask that this space stay free of contempt, toward anyone.
What comes next
Over the coming months, we will release content gradually — one topic at a time, in the order that makes the most sense for someone walking this road. We will start with foundations: why therapy matters, why language matters, what makes some struggles so much harder to talk about than others.
Eventually we will move into the harder material — the challenges that break marriages, the long and painful process of deciding whether to stay or leave, and finally, the recovery and healing that genuinely is possible on the other side.
Although our lives have not gone as we planned or expected — and even though we have been through things we would never wish on anyone else — we are now happier than we ever imagined possible. We are truly blessed beyond measure. There really is reason to hope. We want that for you too.
We are glad you are here. However you found this page — searching in pain, looking for someone who understands, curious about what healing might look like — welcome. You are not alone.
Start wherever feels right. And when you are ready, keep reading.
— Val & Bruce
Whatever brought you here today — you are not beyond hope. Nobody is. That’s not optimism. That’s what we know.
When you’re ready, the next post is waiting.
Why we needed a therapist — and why you might too →
Does this resonate with you?
We would love to hear where you are on your journey. Comments are moderated — kindness is the only rule.
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