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The Plot Twist Guild

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Plot Twist Friday - The Chapter I Didn't Think I'd Write
Today, my divorce became final. I have gone back and forth about whether to share that here. Not because it is a secret, but because some experiences are too personal and complicated to turn into content. Since I want this to be a space where we can be our most vulnerable and sometimes messy selves, I need to be that person. This is not a celebration post. It is also not a post about the details of what happened or who was right and wrong. It is simply an honest acknowledgment that one chapter of my life has ended. I know this ending is right for me. I know there is peace, possibility, and a fuller version of myself waiting on the other side of it. But knowing those things does not erase the grief. Sometimes a plot twist is exciting. Sometimes it is devastating. Sometimes it is both freedom and loss at the very same time. I am sharing this because I want Plot Twist to be a community where we do not have to pretend that becoming the heroine of our lives always feels brave, beautiful, or empowering while it is happening. Sometimes becoming the heroine looks like crying in your car. Sometimes it looks like admitting that something mattered, even though it could not last. Sometimes it looks like letting yourself be sad today and trusting that you will straighten your shoulders tomorrow. (This is an ode to one of the most profound scenes in TV I have seen. It's the end of The Good Wife series when Diane slaps Alicia. She allows herself a moment to fall apart, straightens her shoulders, and carries forward). I do not have a perfect lesson tied up with a bow. I am still living this part. But I do know that an ending does not mean my story failed. It means the story changed. And perhaps that is the heart of a plot twist: the moment when the life you expected falls away, and slowly, imperfectly, you begin writing what comes next. For this Plot Twist Friday, you are invited to share only what feels safe: What chapter are you closing, grieving, rewriting, or finding the courage to begin? And if you have a happy tale to tell today, we want to hear that too.
4 likes • 7d
I am divorced for a few years now and it hurt like a mofo (even though I asked for it). I wrote this piece about signing papers that afternoon: I signed papers on our divorce documents with the mediator this afternoon, and he said to both of us, “Do you agree what is contained herein is correct to the best of your knowledge?” “I DO,” we both answered. “The irony that what started with ‘I do’ ends with ‘I do,’” I said to my soon to be ex husband. We were sitting across from each other at a large conference table surrounded by paper. He didn’t react. Ah. The things I notice. The things I wish I didn’t notice. I thought he might give me a wry smile. A mirthless chuckle. Nope. We signed on various forms and initialed others. “Right here,” the attorney pointed again and again. A few frantic scribbles and we were done. “Thanks for everything,” my husband said and shook his hand. He ignored me. I turned to our mediator, “Thanks for helping us through this.” And I meant it. Nine long months of back and forth. “This isn’t fair!” and “I need to go over this with my review counsel.” I was glad it was almost over. My STBX raced ahead of me out of the office but held the elevator. I was surprised. I thought he would leave. “Thanks. That was nice of you to hold the elevator,” I said. That short ride down four floors felt like an eternity. “Well, this is weird,” I added to try to break the mood. He didn’t respond. It was the end of the work day. And the end of a long marriage. “Take care,” he said, charging toward the parking lot. He didn’t look back at me. “Thanks. You too.” I called out to his fading figure in the approaching darkness. He was halfway to his car already. Mine was closer. What was he feeling? I thought. I never knew during most of our marriage. He rarely told me. Will he go back to our empty “house” with all the memories and our “stuff” and think? “I can’t believe it ended.” I’m crying in my car now writing this. I can't drive yet. All the emotions are just flooding me.
0 likes • 6d
Thanks for reading. I write to process my pain. It helps clear my head. I fully understand (too well) the crying in the car phenomenon. I’m glad we can support one another.
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Marylisa Sullivan
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@marylisa-sullivan-7749
Writer and reader and observer.

Active 21h ago
Joined Jul 2, 2026
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