This post had some false starts.  Most of them felt too much like piling on in response to Miriam Novogrodsky’s recent Huffington Post article, “Divorced Co-Parenting: An Oxymoron.”  In it,  Novogrodsky laments that co-parenting means she’ll never truly be divorced as long as she draws breath, and that her co-parenting situation inspires feelings of rage. The last thing I want to do is add to the chorus of voices in the comments section over there that imply, or flat out say, that Novogrodsky is bitter or selfish or that she just needs to “move on.” And I certainly don’t want to contribute to the pointless clusterfuck of gender warfare in those same comments.  Suffice it to say, I don’t take issue with what Novogrodsky says about her divorce and co-parenting experiences; after all, they are her experiences.  Also, she does acknowledge that hers is not the only experience of divorce and co-parenting.  But it’s how she makes this acknowledgment that I do feel warrants a response.  Six years after completing a state-mandated divorce parenting class, Novogrodsky writes:

This past weekend, negotiating the ends and outs of parenting teenagers, I had to admit, I’m not divorced. It won’t be a done deal until I’m pronounced dead. Time of death, 3:10 a.m. Time of divorcED, 3:11 a.m….

It is difficult enough with two parents living under the same roof to parent peacefully. It may be impossible when living under two different roofs. Different roofs, with a backdrop of unfinished business, anger, dislike for the other person and a sense of failure — failure for not having been able to paint the back drop a vibrant orange, for not having been able to find a way to get along, for failing to stay under the same roof.

An enlightened few have figured out how to be peaceful living beneath different roofs. Maybe they had good manners to begin with. Maybe they had a preternatural clarity of mind and an ability to transcend the pain accompanying divorce. I am not one of the shiny few.

I was not able to seamlessly move forward…

This past weekend I tried to remain calm while negotiating co-parenting. I tasted rage. Rage tastes a lot like bile. I had accepted that I am not divorced. I had yet to accept that I’m not a co-parent. I got there, this past weekend, Saturday afternoon. I accepted fully that I am not divorced and I don’t co-parent. I just say I am and I do.

Several people (married, never married, and divorced) tweeted and emailed my ex and me the link to Novogrodsky’s post because they know us to be the co-parenting unicorns of which she writes.  I get (hope) that she’s writing somewhat facetiously, but her words reflect a real set of presumptions about those who manage to co-parent peacefully.  Presumptions that belie reality.

Not surprisingly, those who know our family’s journey didn’t recognize us in Novogrodsky’s assessment of co-parenting, even though we’ve been divorced about as long as she has. Just as no one should assume that it’s easy to “move on” post-divorce, neither should it be assumed that those who have “moved on” have done so easily.