"But You Seem Fine": Post-Separation Abuse, the Weaponization of Joy, and the Audacity of Me Being Me

It's been almost four-and-a-half years since I got divorced. Four-and-a-half years since the legal end of a twenty-five year relationship that eventually drained me mentally, physically and emotionally and left me with Complex PTSD. Since I signed those papers and closed that painful chapter and began the process of rebuilding, I've had to do so while still being relentlessly monitored, undermined and controlled.

Lately, my ex-husband has made it clear that in his view, I'm not struggling. According to him, I look too good to not be okay or to be experiencing any sort of financial hardship. I took my son to his first NBA game. I recently went on a vacation that I booked a year prior when finances were better. I get my hair done occasionally. I even get Botox on occasion - my 50th birthday is just a few months away so a little forehead freezing is an act of self-care in my opinion. But in his mind, because he pays child support (that doesn't even cover half of the mortgage), he thinks he's bought the right to police my joy, self-care and financial decisions. It's the tired, misogynistic trope that because a man pays child support he thinks he has access to his babies' mama's autonomy.

He doesn't see the cPTSD that is worse now than it was a year ago because of him. The rising anxiety as the price of living has increased for everyone. The occasional minor panic attack that makes me question how long I can keep functioning at this pace. The therapy sessions with my psychologist once or twice I month that I pay for out of pocket to make sure someone is checking in on me mentally. He doesn't see the exhaustion behind the smile or the nights I can't sleep because I'm doing mental gymnastics to figure out how to stretch every financial and emotional resource. For someone so invested in how I spend money or time, he shows zero concern for my actual well-being which directly affects his kids.

He doesn't get the texts from our teenage daughter - the ones that say, "Mom, it's time to go prom dress shopping," or "Mom, can you buy me something to wear to senior night?" These are expenses I seem to be responsible for alone. Remember, the child support went towards the mortgage to keep a roof over the kids' heads. This is all on me. He's not the one fielding the constant requests, trying to balance what's reasonable with what's possible, and what will keep my children from feeling left out. But he pays child support, and I guess that should be enough.

He doesn't see the Door Dash orders and think what they're actually for - it's often cheaper and less stressful than cooking after a ten-hour work day. Sometimes it's the only way to make sure my son with autism gets his "routine" foods so we can avoid possible meltdowns. When the meltdowns do happen, I'm the one picking up the pieces. There's no backup. No partner to tag in. No one to take over or carry the emotional wreckage but me.

I want to be clear - I know this isn't unique to me. This is the reality of so many single parents, especially moms, every day. We have to carry it all from the emotional labor, the financial planning, the logistics, the meltdowns, the bedtime routines, the appointments, the guilt, the decisions, the survival. I'm not sharing this to say my situation is harder than anyone else's or to minimize what other parents are going through. I'm saying it because it's real and so often we're expected to wage this battle in silence. But the truth is, it's fucking hard.

And then on top of all of that there's the added weight and stress of having my children's father hovering over every decision I make, ready to twist it into evidence that I'm doing something wrong. Whether it's a choice I make for my children's stability or a moment I take for self-care - I keep showing up and somehow it all still get's held against me. It's exhausting trying to protect my peace and being a functioning human being, all while constantly bracing for judgment from someone who contributes so little, yet feels to be entitled to so much. That's the part that's hard to put into words, but every single mom who's been there knows exactly what I'm talking about.

My ex is using my survival against me. And that's abuse.

We only communicate through a court-ordered parenting app, put in place to help us stay focused on the kids and create a clear, trackable record of communication. But like everything else, he's twisted it into another tool of control. He expects immediate responses from me but he will go days without opening my messages even if he's the one that initiates conversations. He's outright said in writing that he'll only respond to messages when he feels it's necessary. That's not just frustrating. It's neglect of his parenting responsibilities especially when we're talking about our son, who has needs that require actual co-parenting, not unilateral decisions.

Meanwhile, the app has become yet another space where he attacks me personally. It's almost like he can't help himself despite knowing the court has access to all communications in the app. Instead of focusing on our kids, he uses it as a platform to continue to gaslight, undermine and demean me. Recently, he asked in the app why I kept his last name. When I said I want the same last name as the kids, he said he knew I'd blame the kids, then went on to suggest an alternate reason - that I only kept his last name so that when people Google HIM, I will still come up in the search. It gave Ike Turner-Tina Turner/'What's Love Got To Do With It' vibes to me.

Most recently, he took a dig at my career as an attorney. The comment stuck with me because it was so obviously designed to trigger me. He said, “Some attorneys are very smart and successful and then there are some who apparently just memorize to pass to claim the status." Anyone who has successfully passed a bar exam would understand the absurdity of this. I've passed two bar exams actually, both on the first try. That comment wasn't meant to insult my intelligence - it was meant to make me question my worth. He chose to deliver that insult through the court-ordered family law app in the middle of a conversation about how "fine" I supposedly am which says far more about his need to diminish me than it does about my competence or my struggle. This. Is. Abuse.

THIS is what post-separation abuse looks like. People think abuse ends when the relationship does. But what they don't think about and what so many of us live through, is the campaign of destabilization that continues long after the divorce is final, adding one more challenge to single motherhood.

Here is the truth:

You can take your child to their first NBA game and still cry when you get home afterwards because it was not without challenge.

You can post a smiling picture and wake up every morning battling dread.

You can get your hair done and still have a nervous system screaming from years of emotional welfare.

That's trauma. That's what it looks like to survive when you've been forced to function while falling apart. Survival doesn't always look like falling apart - it looks like showing up anyway with your pain is hidden just beneath the surface.