For Supporters By Val & Bruce

What actually helps — for friends and family

If someone you love is going through a divorce or a struggling marriage, you want to help. This is what helps — and what doesn’t — from two people who have been on the receiving end of both.

This post is for those walking alongside someone on the journey — not on it themselves. See the full map →

If someone you love is going through a divorce — or is in a marriage that is breaking apart — you are probably feeling some version of helpless. You want to do something. You want to fix it, or at least make it hurt less. And you may be unsure what to say, worried about saying the wrong thing, or quietly wondering whether you should say anything at all.

We have both been through this. Between us, we have experienced the full range of what friends and family can offer — the things that helped enormously, and the things that, despite the best intentions, made things harder. We are not writing this to criticize anyone who got it wrong. We have both gotten it wrong ourselves, before we understood what people in this situation actually need. We are writing it because we wish someone had given this to the people who loved us before they tried to help.

What people in this situation actually need

Here is what we have found, both from our own experience and from the many people we have talked to who have been through divorce: most of what people need is simpler than you think, and requires less from you than you might fear.

They need to know they are not forgotten. They need to feel that someone is thinking of them — not just in the first week, but in the third month and the sixth month and the first anniversary of the hardest day. The casseroles and the phone calls that come in the first few weeks are meaningful. But the person who calls six months later, just to check in, just to say “I was thinking about you” — that person becomes a lifeline.

Bruce

I was blessed with a family that showed up for me in ways I will never forget. They called almost every day — not to talk about the divorce, just to check in, just to let me know they were there. They drove across states to help me move. They encouraged me when I couldn’t encourage myself. They told me they believed I was going to get through this. But most of all, they simply loved me. Through everything, I never once doubted that. That was the thing that held me together more than anything else they did or said.

They need to feel loved without conditions. Not loved if they handle the divorce gracefully, not loved if they are managing well, not loved if they are making the choices you would make. Just loved. This sounds simple. In practice, it requires setting aside your own opinions about what they should do and how they should feel — and that is harder than it sounds.

The hardest thing to do — and the most important

If you have a close relationship with both spouses, you may feel enormous pressure to choose a side. Resist this with everything you have.

We understand why it happens. When someone you love is hurting, your instinct is to be angry at the person who hurt them. When you only hear one side of a story — and in a divorce, you will almost always only hear one side, at least at first — it is natural to fill in the gaps in ways that make sense of what you are hearing. And sometimes one person really did cause more harm than the other. We are not suggesting you pretend otherwise.

But choosing sides has costs that are almost never worth it. It costs the person on the other side a friend they needed. It costs your relationship with that person, possibly permanently. And it costs the person you are trying to support something important too — because what most people going through a divorce actually need is not someone to be angry on their behalf. They need someone to help them move forward, and that is much harder to do from a position of shared grievance.

Bruce

One of the most painful experiences of my divorce was losing some of our oldest and dearest friends — a couple we had both loved for years. I understood why they felt they had to choose. I was even grateful that they continued to support my former spouse, who had fewer people around her. But the loss was real.

About five years later, they reached out and invited Val and me to dinner. Afterward, the wife offered a sincere and detailed apology. We have since become very close again — and I am deeply grateful for that reconciliation. It is a reminder that relationships, like people, can find their way back.

Another couple did it differently from the start. They were equally close to both of us, and they chose not to choose. They continued to love us both. They kept confidences. They didn’t lecture or preach or take sides. They just loved — and they continue to do so to this day. I am deeply grateful for what they did for my former spouse during that time. And I am grateful that they didn’t feel they had to choose between us to do it. That is a rare and precious thing.

What not to say

Most of the things that are unhelpful to say come from a good place. They come from wanting to fix something, from discomfort with pain that can’t be resolved quickly, or from genuine concern about the choices being made. We offer these not as criticisms but as gentle guidance — because we have said most of them ourselves.

“Have you tried harder?” or “If you just do X, things will improve.” The person you are talking to has almost certainly been trying for years. They have tried things you don’t know about, in ways you may not be able to imagine. Advice that implies they simply haven’t tried enough is likely to land as judgment, even when it isn’t meant that way.

Val

When I was separated and told my manager at work that I was getting a divorce, he counseled me to keep my marriage together and just try harder. He had been a bishop. He meant well. He had no idea what I had been through — the years of struggle, the things I had tried, what the reality of our marriage actually looked like. His advice came from a place of genuine concern. But it landed as one more voice telling me I hadn’t done enough, in a season when I was already drowning in that feeling.

Taking sides out loud. Phrases like “I can’t believe he/she would do that” may feel like solidarity, but they can actively stoke anger and resentment rather than helping someone process and move forward. There is a difference between giving someone space to feel their feelings and amplifying bitterness. The former helps. The latter can prolong suffering in ways that are hard to undo.

Unsolicited advice. “You should…” Unless they have asked for your advice, they probably don’t need it. What they need is your presence, not your prescription.

Silence. Not saying anything because you don’t know what to say is understandable — but it can feel, from the other side, like abandonment. You don’t need the right words. “I don’t know what to say, but I love you and I’m here” is enough. It is more than enough.

Practical things that help

Sometimes the most meaningful support is the most concrete. A few things that made a real difference to us and to others we know:

Show up for the ordinary things. Help with a move. Bring a meal not just in week one but in month three. Invite them to dinner — not to talk about the divorce, just to not be alone on a Tuesday night. The ordinary presence of people who love you is one of the most healing things there is.

Call or text regularly, and keep it low-pressure. A simple “thinking of you today” requires nothing from the recipient. It costs you almost nothing. And it means everything to someone who is wondering whether the world has forgotten them.

Don’t require them to be okay. If they say they’re fine, that’s probably not the whole truth, and they probably know you know that. Give them permission to not be fine by being someone who can sit with them in hard feelings without needing to fix it.

Be patient over the long term. Grief from divorce does not follow a schedule. There will be hard days six months and two years in that feel as acute as the first days. Keep showing up. Keep calling. The people who are still there a year later are the ones who matter most.

Protect their privacy. What they share with you is not yours to share. Not with other friends, not with family members, not with ward members who ask. Keep confidences. Trust, once broken in this way, is very hard to restore.

Val & Bruce

We are both deeply grateful for the people who got this right in our lives. They didn’t fix anything — they couldn’t. But they loved us through it, and that made the difference between surviving and being permanently diminished by it. You have more power to help than you know. You don’t need the right words or the perfect gesture. You just need to show up, keep showing up, and love without conditions.

That is enough. It is more than enough. It may be everything.

Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.

Romans 12:15

Not fix. Not advise. Not assess. Weep with them. Be present in their joy and in their grief. That is what love looks like in practice — and it is available to every one of us, regardless of what we know or don’t know about divorce.

You don’t need the right words. You just need to stay.

When you’re ready, the next post is waiting.

For church leaders and communities →

Have you been a supporter — or needed one?

We’d love to hear what made a difference for you — from either side of this experience. Comments are moderated with kindness.