Eighteen months after my marriage ended, I jumped into a heady, sexually intense year-long relationship with a fellow writer and parent who was 20 years older than I was. In hindsight, it was no surprise it ended — his kids were grown, mine were tiny, our lives were at different points. But that did not make me love him any less, and did nothing to tamper the absolute devastation that pummeled me when we broke up. Even months after we split, Sundays when my kids are with their dad and I would have otherwise spent with my ex-boyfriend, I instead engaged in unseemly behavior like walking around the streets of Manhattan while bawling uncontrollably, listening to John Legend on a loop and reading the Wikipedia page on Carrie and Mr. Not only was all this embarrassing, it was also incongruous with the events at hand. Something else was at play. So I called one of my best friends. Kirsten did what a good friend does: she listened. As I talked and sobbed and blubbered and talked some more it all came out. Besides the end of my relationship, my mom has been unwell. My mom, who adores my kids second only to their parents. As my children and their needs as people grow, it seems that our circle of people shrinks — and the pressures of being a single mother mount. I am just one person responsible for two human beings. It feels like too much. Because sooner or later it will catch up with her. When my three years ago, I slipped into survival mode: I jutted my jaw, made sure the kids and my business and the money and the divorce and the house were all in order. Trust me, there were plenty of late night crying fits and trips to therapists and a wonderful support group for loved ones of brain injury victims. The loss my whole family suffered. For months after that conversation, I gave myself permission to mourn. Those sad Sundays were committed to indulging the emotion and grief and healing that had eluded me. Funny thing, how empathy blooms. She was riled up after the transition, which is not unusual, but it spiraled into something else. I worry I dismiss the grief my kids might feel over the divorce. Or Helena, Lucas, Mommy — Daddy separate. So I held her head in the crook of my neck and listened and let her cry and cry. Because sooner or later it will catch up with you. When that relationship ended, it hurt like a motherfucker! Holy shit did that hurt. Owwie ow ow ow! It took me a long time, and a lot of interaction with other, divorced people to figure out why post-divorce rebounds are akin to your body dripping with infected hangnails while, at the same time, a rusty scythe strikes your guts. Even more than an ending love, all that pain and torment is really about contending with unresolved heartbreak from divorce. You are likely as I was: needing to go through that rebound and the subsequent pain. It served as a critical point of reference through which I dealt with the dissolution of my marriage. And there is a ton of fear about all of it. All this upheaval and stress can leave little room to deal with simple loss of love. When you are contending with a 360-degree life barf, there is scant space to sit quietly and feel the weighty grief of no longer spending nights with a person who you at least once — likely still — loved very much. Not just the absence of somebody. The absence of him. Which is where the rebound breakup and all its gory hurt come in. Someone who I cared very much about, knew my kids, but was a lover — no more. He was not my partner. We were emotionally, intellectually, sexually intertwined. But our lives were completely separate. When we broke up there was nothing to contend with but grief. Which is another reason why we do not mourn the love for our husbands immediately after divorce. Divorce often comes after months and years of a really unhappy relationship. It was likely missing for a very long time — which is exactly why it is so intoxicating when we find that connection again in a rebound. How did you get over your post-divorce rebound? What did you learn from the experience? Share in the comments! Emma Johnson is a veteran money journalist, noted blogger, bestselling author and an host of the award-winning podcast, Like a Mother with Emma Johnson. A former Associated Press Financial Wire reporter and MSN Money columnist, Emma has written for the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Forbes, Glamour, Oprah. News, Parenting, USA Today and others. A popular speaker, Emma presented at the United Nations Summit for Gender Equality. Read more about Emma. About Emma Johnson Emma Johnson is a veteran money journalist, noted blogger, bestselling author and an host of the award-winning podcast, Like a Mother with Emma Johnson. A former Associated Press Financial Wire reporter and MSN Money columnist, Emma has written for the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Forbes, Glamour, Oprah. News, Parenting, USA Today and others. A popular speaker, Emma presented at the United Nations Summit for Gender Equality. Read more about Emma. I wish I had read this a year ago! I thought I was going crazy…wondering why I could not even sleep, eat, smile or focus on anything other than the demise of that first relationship post divorce! Th
