Redacted: What Divorced Women Aren't Telling You

Is This All There Is?

Stephanie Sprenger

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Welcome to Redacted: What Divorced Women Aren't Telling You, a limited podcast series featuring stories and conversations from anonymous divorced women. 

In today's conversation, we cover: 

  • The question that haunts many marriages: "Is this all there is?"
  • What it looks like to have the courage to leave an unsatisfying marriage—especially 35 years ago. 
  • The gifts of living alone, and the negotiations of living with a partner
  • How women in particular edit themselves in relationships or make themselves small
  • The importance of having lantern-bearers: Strong, brave women who have gone before us and can show us the way. 
  • Heroics or survival? We discuss the nuances of choosing yourself and a happy, fulfilling relationship over staying in a marriage that is no longer working

Welcome to Redacted What Divorced Women Aren't Telling You. This is a limited series podcast sharing the stories of a variety of divorced women who submitted their pieces to be published last year on the Redacted Substack column. The majority of our authors were anonymous, and many of them have agreed to read their stories. On this podcast, and several of them were generous enough to have conversations with me about the writing of their piece, their experience with divorce. We go down a lot of rabbit holes, and I'm very excited to kick off this series with. An essay that actually is not anonymous noelle Stern is the author of a piece that I just loved publishing and redacted last fall. It's called, I Wasn't Looking, and she's going to read that story for us now and then. This is such a treat. Noelle and I had the most beautiful conversation after she read her story. Noel and I talked about what it was like when she got a divorce decades ago, and the courage that it took for her to ask a really difficult question that I. I think will resonate with many of you. It's a question a lot of us have asked about our marriages we talked about the tendency of women to make themselves small. We talked about what it's like to walk away from a perfectly fine on the surface marriage. We talked about the beauty of living alone and the freedom that that entails, and we talked about the possibility of finding love again after divorce, and I think you're really gonna enjoy our conversation. So I hope you stick around after Noelle reads. This magnificent story to listen to her experience without further ado, here is Noelle. I.

Noelle

I wasn't looking. I hated the question, but I couldn't ignore it. Married for many years, Ted and I had adjusted to each other's preferences and quirks, occasionally even laughing over them. We'd settled into careers, both teaching at the university and writing, having established our comfortable routines of constant lesson planning and paper grading, shared household necessities, greeting neighbors on our city block, jogging in the park, and on weekends, walking to the local movies with pizza afterwards, or meeting friends for dinner at the local Chinese restaurant with all these activities. I continued to write essays and stories and send them out as every form rejection came back. I side frowned and sometimes cursed. Ted would pat me on the shoulder. Not many people make it, you know, and he turned to his own writing. Little Solace, I knew exactly when the question reared up. Twice a week, I lugged two bulging plastic garbage bags down the steps of our brownstone apartment to the cans at the basement landing one day in late spring with no warning as I lifted a lid, sigh and struggled to stuff in a bag. The question resounded like an echo and a deep cave, is this all there is? I was supposed to love Ted thick and thin, better or worse, et cetera, et cetera. But after this time, the question kept knocking at the most Ill time moments. Reviewing tomorrow's class lesson, packing my tote for a solo writing coffee shop session. Sitting down to a nice dinner together, perfunctorily hugging in bed before turning in opposite directions to sleep. With the question almost palpable, I started wearing to bed a big terrycloth robe tied tightly in the daily activities. Although menacing around the edges of my life, the question at times almost disappeared. But Ted and I spoke less, touched less and laughed less. He stayed outta the apartment. More mumbling words like committee meeting and student conferences. One day he said he wanted to bring home a university colleague for dinner. That Saturday, wanting to support Ted, I did my ever reliable company menu, roast chicken and red potatoes, salad, asparagus, piers, and two flavors of ice cream. I ironed my best blouse and made sure my hair was clean. The doorbell rang and Ted introduced me to Lincoln. He looked at me full in the face. Where have you been hiding? I blushed. The dinner went well. Lincoln was enthusiastic and complimentary. And after dessert we all smiled. Goodnight. Cleaning up. I couldn't stop thinking about him. Two days later, he called and asked for Ted. Later that week, Lincoln came over again so they could plan a collaborative teaching course. They sat at the dining room table, materials spread out, talking passionately. I served coffee and pound cake with strawberries, and Lincoln was again appreciative all night. I puttered nearby. Listening to his booming voice and too often looking at him sideways. That terrible question kept hanging and I tried to stifle it. I couldn't bear the thought of upsetting. My convenient, comfortable habits of living life wasn't so bad. I was writing and teaching, enjoying my students. We made it all right financially, although with little toss spare. I didn't feel I needed much as long as I was writing. The last thing I wanted was to be attracted to Lincoln. He called a few more times, ostensibly wanting to talk to Ted, but somehow Ted was always out and Lincoln and I would laugh and share semi confidences for many minutes. The pull was too strong. Like the plot of a sorted movie, Lincoln and I started meeting secretly. I'd leave the house with my writing tote as if going to the coffee shop. Instead, I'd raced to a nearby phone booth, one of the few left, so we could plan to meet. I didn't wanna use my cell phone for fear. He would call back at some unattended moment and Ted would see the number. In the phone booth, my hands shaking with excitement. I'd call Lincoln. Sometimes we met at night in the park where we'd find a secluded spot under a grove of trees and we'd kiss passionately. Other times we'd meet in cafes in his neighborhood, 20 blocks from mine. I shied away from going to his place. That would be admitting too much. Nor was I proud of my deceptions and constant calculations for avoiding Ted and acting like nothing was amiss. Once when I was supposed to be at a university department meeting, Lincoln and I arranged to meet at a neighborhood bar in the pouring rain, I arrived first and took a table. I waited breathlessly, constantly smoothing my hair and kept looking every few minutes toward the entrance. Beyond the un fightable chemistry. I loved sharing everything with Lincoln. When I told him I was struggling with a story, he immediately asked for more details and suggested another approach. It opened my mind and I revised quickly. He teased me with a naughty sense of humor about my pension for alliteration. He listened when I held forth on my fascination with early Christianity and my ecstasy of the Mozart. Telling him about a recent rejection. I listened fully when he said, without sounding like Tony Robbins, you'll do it. Unlike Ted, no condescending uncle, like Pats on the shoulder, unveiled put downs. Lincoln told me about his life too. He was suffering through his first academic article for publication and wondering, as all writers do, if he had anything worthwhile to say. I read the article, complimented him and meant it, and pointed out a few places I thought it could be stronger. He was appreciative, made notes, and later told me he submitted it. I encouraged to his desire to apply for a position at another university and he confided his own passions and aspirations. Leadership, mentorship positively influencing young minds. I hadn't felt so light in years at the table. I kept checking my watch as the rain board. Then I saw him striding down the narrow aisle between the small tables, hair dripping, broadly smiling. He was Adonis in a Burberry raincoat. I was in love. I had never asso associated the D divorce word with myself. Always felt proud staying married to Ted for so long when many other couples we knew sank still loathed to upset my life and hoping to reignite something. I kept replaying the memory of how we'd met, dated, and discovered mutual interest and the fun we'd had, but nothing worked. What is the mystery that attracts two people and make them stick? Novelty, common interest, sex. And what's the mystery that drains all attraction? Familiarity, stultifying routines, predicting the other sex routines, hammering out differences or feeling unable to. Ted and I had worked on our marriage. We'd gone to many self-help groups and couples workshops. We'd sincerely done the exercises for forgiveness and patience vowed before the whole group to change to their loud of flaws and had fallen into each other's arms many times with sobbing. Apologies, none of it seemed to matter. Now, I knew Ted had seen the signs too. The growing mutual indifference, monosyllabic answered, forced laughs, increasingly separate pursuits, avoidance of sex and sidestepping in the kitchen so we wouldn't touch. I could no longer deny my aversion or worse neutrality toward Ted and the overwhelming allure of Lincoln. But I had to face the possibility that it might not last. With Lincoln, the first flush of love is notorious for clouding judgment and fooling one into believing the matchless elation will go on forever. So I kept asking myself a central question. If it didn't work out with Lincoln, did I still want out of the marriage? Would I feel better, more alive? By myself than with Ted. In the middle of the night, I'd awaken and visualize how I'd feel Lincoln or no Lincoln in my own apartment. I had my answer, could hardly get back to sleep with the exaltation. After a month of secrecy, I felt I had to tell Ted he would be hurt, of course, but I was weary of the lies and machinations. So one night I told him I wanted to leave. At first he looked incredulous. Why? He demanded, I told him part of the truth. We've grown apart. We want different things. He pleaded and raged, and finally near dawn, agreed that we'd been stalled for a long time. Neither of us mentioned Lincoln's name, but I was sure Ted suspected even with the relief of having made the decision and declaration, I delayed still not wanting to upset that old slipper groove. Gradually, though fueled by imagining myself in my own place, but with undeniable anxiety, I took the steps in front of me. Made lists, reviewed accounts called an attorney, and realtors decided what to take and inched through all the other details of separation. Neighbors looked at me like I'd sold National Secrets, friends stayed away. Maybe fearing my presence would contaminate their own relationships. One. Caution Sagely. Watch out for the rebound. It never lasts. Well, for 30 years it did. Our routines weren't that much different or revolutionary from my previous ones. Fulfilling work, gym several times a week. Walks in the park tv, movies with popcorn long talks about our goals and mutual reminders in the face of colleagues, awards and prizes. We were enough. Lincoln and I often turned down dinner dates with other couples because we wanted to be alone. Of course, it wasn't all rosy. We fought, disagreed, shouted, got annoyed, irritated, and outright enraged. We had shouting matches. The neighbors probably heard, but we didn't care. We'd retreat into different rooms. Petly silent. Knowing withdrawal is what hurts the most. But then after a few minutes or a few hours, one of us would apologize and we'd hardly remember what had preferred to fight. We forged our relationship in the fires of the ordinary. Putting the cap on the ketchup bottle the right way takes forgiveness. Figuring out the cell phone, inscrutability takes patience. Apologizing takes humility in the midst of defenses of unimpeachable logic. Not difficult for college professors. We stumbled through beneath it all. We had something I'd lost with Ted. Ongoing mutual respect, interest and liking. Lincoln passed five years ago. I miss him daily and cherish every memory. When I recall that faithful day at the garbage cans, I'm grateful now for the unwelcome, insistent question. It yanked me into facing my feelings and acting. It brought me Lincoln, even though I wasn't looking.

Steph

Oh, Noelle. I fell in love with that piece when you submitted it and listening to you read it. Um, I've just got goosebumps. I love it even more. I relate to your story very deeply and, um, I think you were. Ahead of your time. You probably know this. I, I, I think about how even now in 2025, it is not necessarily popular to ask yourself the question, is this all there is? It's, it's, I think it's frowned upon still, even now to leave a marriage. That's perfectly fine. In order to find a connection that satisfies your soul. Yeah, I think, I think women have been vilified for forever for choosing to do that. And the fact that you did, um, 30, 30 years ago, um, I think that that probably must have been incredibly brave and and bold.

Noelle

Well, thank you. Thank you so much. I never felt it was that. I tell you, the pull to him, I could not resist it. It was just, I can't even describe it, but there was nothing else I wanted really.

Steph

I know that feeling.

Noelle

Mm-hmm. That probably fueled me, propelled me. Mm-hmm. You know, to do what I had to do. But also the, the, the relationship with Ted was going downhill. You know, and maybe I wouldn't have been so attracted if it hadn't gone downhill,

Steph

perhaps. And, and, and maybe, um, maybe he was a catalyst for you to leave a marriage that was already sort of dying and you didn't want to accept it. Yeah. But I think that one of the things that really struck me about your piece is that moment when you ask yourself if he, if Lincoln wasn't here. Would I still want out of this marriage? And the answer was yes. And that I think is such a powerful litmus test that you know, not to project my story onto anyone else's story, but I think about the freedom I have from pretending that I wasn't disappointed every day. Um. I think Ah,

Noelle

wow. And that really sucks your soul.

Steph

It does, it, it's exhausting. And you don't notice it, I think, until you're out and then, and then you say, oh my God. I just, I get to just sink into, to me what I want, what feels good, my rhythms, my routine, eat what I want, drink what I want, listen to what I want, sleep when I want, work, when I want.

Noelle

Well, you know, I, I did have that. When I moved to my own place, I had it for about a year. And I have to say that before that I hardly ever lived on my own.

Steph

Mm-hmm.

Noelle

Just a year or so in college. Me too. But I got married quite young, you know, I was still in college in fact, and then, and there were all those years, and then finally I moved. Then after about a year, I moved in with Lincoln. So, you know, I, I enjoyed the alone time, but I wanted to be with him so much that it didn't matter, you know, and there were a lot of adjustments, I must say.

Steph

I'm sure that's true. And I, I think about, you know, I, I'm 47. I have two teenage daughters, a 14-year-old and a 19-year-old. And, and I think to myself, there are a lot of women who say after they divorce, I will never get married again. I will never live with a man again. And, and that's not me. I, I'm relishing this freedom right now. It's just me and my 14-year-old daughter. It's the two of us. And we, my God, last night we spent three hours putting together this Christmas puzzle just for the hell of it, just because we could. And then it was like, oh my God, at seven 30, what happened? We better eat some frozen pizza in front of the tv. I mean, it's like we are just. I love it. I love this time and I cherish it, but I also, I miss having a partner. Um, it's difficult to live alone. It's difficult to live in this house being the only adult, and I think there are sacrifices you make when you go back to living with a man. But I also think when it's a man that you want to live with so badly, like you said, that that was what you wanted, that other stuff doesn't matter so much.

Noelle

Right, right. And we always found ways through, in fact, uh, be before we were actually together, we went on a retreat, a spiritual retreat together. And the rule was that you had to be married to live in the same room. So, but the minister's wife who was doing the administration. She said, okay, I'll put you in the same room. She said, because there's commitment there, which was very intuitive of her. He was committed to making it work. He helped me grow tremendously. I mean, that's a whole other thing, you know? Yeah. That, uh, the, like I said, the fires of, of commitment. Mm-hmm. Um, he really helped me grow so, so much that I, I'll always be grateful to him.

Steph

Yes. I think, uh, I think when you have experienced that big, big, love that feeling that you just simply belong with another person. You have to heed that call, why wouldn't you? But that's where, again, where I think that you're ahead of your time. I mean, you mentioned people didn't understand the way you were perceived and your steadfastness in doing what you knew was right for you rather than what you were supposed to do culturally. I mean, God, you were really like. A pioneer. I, I just, I'm in awe of your story and I think it struck me so much because of your, I'm sure you experienced hardships. It wasn't popular, it wasn't typical. That's not what women did the majority of the time. I can imagine. Um, I still think that there's a stigma for, for married people who are imperfectly fine marriages, but they want something more.

Noelle

Well, it wouldn't look like perfectly fine. Yes. That that was the thing that was Ted. It all looked great on the surface. We would go out with other people. Ha ha ha. You know?

Steph

Mm-hmm. Yes.

Noelle

Especially, I'm thinking of one couple down the block she was aghast. She thought I was terrible, really awful. Mm-hmm. And she stopped talking to me.

Steph

Yeah. So

Noelle

from, you know, what you say, uh. I, I give you a lot of credit for, uh. Recognizing. I never even, like I said, I never thought I was particularly heroic. I just knew I had to do it. Um,

Steph

I, I think that's heroic and I give you all the credit in the world. I think. I'm sure there was pain involved, but just you're unwavering. Decision to do what you knew was right to follow a lighthouse that was your lighthouse and not the lighthouse of an institution of marriage or a country or a church or anything else. You followed the lighthouse of your own love and joy, and I think that's magnificent. I think that's heroic. I think that's you being a lantern bearer, giving other women permission to do what makes them feel.

Noelle

Thank you so much. Like I say, I, I, I never thought of myself that way whatsoever. It was almost more like survival. But I certainly appreciate your insights and um, thank you.

Steph

You

Noelle

know, I, I'd like to address what you said about being alone with your daughters. Now I am alone and as I said, for five, now, it's been five and a half or a little more years since he's gone.

Steph

Mm-hmm.

Noelle

And I'm in the same apartment, which I love. And I have this, I don't know if if it, contradicts all the great stuff we've been saying, but I love living alone now. Yes.

Steph

Yes.

Noelle

I love it. And as you were saying. The Christmas puzzle, you know, my equivalent is something else. Maybe I'm cooking something or whatever it is, you know, or I stay up late, I get up a little later, you know, I work later. Yes. Uh, eating it anytime I want. Mm-hmm. What I want, you know, uh, all kinds of different things and not having to always have like that other person. You know? Yes. As much as we gave each other autonomy a lot, and I needed a lot for writing and for my clients, but, and he needed it too, yet that other person is always here, you know?

Steph

This is beautiful and that's the thing, and you're not saying that you have any regrets about sharing your life with this man and living together and being married, but there is this beautiful, one of the first things I did that that summer after my divorce. Um, was I painted, I, well, I had someone paint this dining room red and now it's my office. We don't eat in here. My daughter and I, this table is covered with, uh, two puzzles and my podcast equipment, and it's my room and it's red and there are plants everywhere and there are ridiculous portraits of my dogs wearing Elizabeth and clothing. Like it's so, it's mine.

Noelle

I think, you know, we. We, uh, we tamp ourselves down. We cut ourselves off even as the honest, as a relationship as we, we want and think we want, we edit a lot of ourselves out.

Steph

Yes.

Noelle

Of a a major special relationship.

Steph

Yes.

Noelle

Um, you know that I, I think a lot of women though, are recognizing that that's not the way to go anymore. They, they. See that, that just, dries up their, their authenticity.

Steph

Yes, you're right. But I think this is a new thing and I think,

Noelle

yes,

Steph

I'm still trying my very hardest to lead women through that point. This is not the right way, and that's why I think what you did was so bold because you did that intuitively during a time when I expect that was tremendously unpopular. Yeah. And I still think women more than men. Filter themselves, edit themselves, as you said, make ourselves small, mask and perform. And I think that's why living alone feels so good because you are not performing for anyone in any way, makeup or no makeup. Um, sleep late or don't. I sleep with a pile of books and journals next to me in my bed where my husband used to sleep and I love it. I mean. And I, I think even my, my girls have found some freedom in that because we get to talk, talk during movies and sing as loud as we want, and our laughter doesn't irritate anybody.

Noelle

Right. And so you are a tremendous role model to them. For what? Whatever their relationships will be. Yes. And they, they're not gonna settle.

Steph

No. And that's all I wanted because I've been divorced twice. I got divorced twice. And the first time I was also, I was very young for, I mean, I was 25, which in the early two thousands is still pretty young. Um, but no, I think that, you know, when people think they should stay together for the children, I think, well, what are you teaching them? Right about relationships if you were disconnected or resentful or not in love with each

Noelle

other, and they, they sense it from very young ages even They know. Yes,

Steph

they do know.

Noelle

That's so misguided. You know, that's so-called martyrdom. It doesn't do anyone any good.

Steph

No, it doesn't. And I guess I, I hope that you can take this in and really see yourself as, as the, as the leader and the, the visionary that you were, you, you lived by a standard that was not the norm and I think still isn't the norm. I think there are still so many women who are in marriages that they don't want to be in.

Noelle

Yeah, yeah. Yeah. Sometimes financial is a major reason. Yes, and that's a really tough one.

Steph

It is.

Noelle

I have to have my business. But still, even now, I, I'm on my own with, with finances and I need to keep, keep at it, you know? Mm-hmm. And it's a little scary sometimes. Yes,

Steph

it is scary. It is. I, I, it's, I feel scared all the time and I, I could have tried to settle into a career that gave me this. Tremendous stability and instead, I'm self-employed. I'm an entrepreneur. I have a book coming out next year. I mean, I'm not doing the fantastic. Fantastic. Yeah, it's wonderful. But I think you probably know when you do creative work that you love, that isn't the same as punching a or going into an office from nine to five. There's, there's volatility there and correct, and yet I chose that because I love what I do and I want to do work that I love. Yeah.

Noelle

Yeah. Marvelous, marvelous stuff. You know, uh, around almost about eight or nine months ago, um, I met with a medium. I don't usually do this, but she was a friend of a friend and, um, we were talking about other things, three of us, and she said, you know, there's another companion in your future. I said, oh shit, I don't wanna cook for him.

Steph

That made my day. Oh my God.

Noelle

And so she said, well, he wants the same things you do, meaning this in sort of the independence, found independence. Yes. You know,

Steph

connection. But that independence I,

Noelle

right?

Steph

Mm-hmm.

Noelle

So. After that. Now this was like in February or so, I kept looking at every 30 5-year-old, are you in? Are you in? You know,

Steph

oh my God, that's amazing.

Noelle

And I think I'm just, I just don't, I still don't want it, you know? And that's really why I am. Not attracting anyone, you know, I'm not putting myself in any situation where I would for one thing. Mm-hmm.

Steph

Mm-hmm.

Noelle

Uh, and, uh, just meeting with women friends, you know? Yes. Doing, going to the gym and doing a few other things. So I'll let you know if and when it happens.

Steph

Would you please? I would love to. Oh, I, I remember when my, my gosh, my grandmother was. She must have been close to 90. She was in her eighties after my grandfather died. She had a companion and they never lived together and they never got married. But, um, until his death and he was older than she was, he would come over and they would, they would eat frozen pizzas and they would watch TV and they were very, they loved each other. Like we grieved his loss. Um. Deeply because we knew it was going to be the last for my, my grandmother was getting quite old at that point, but I loved that she got to have one last,

Noelle

yeah,

Steph

one last love.

Noelle

You know, eventually I'm, I might be ready, but

Steph

mm-hmm.

Noelle

Certainly not.

Steph

Maybe not yet.

Noelle

Not yet.

Steph

No. You get to enjoy the beautiful independence of your own rhythms and,

Noelle

and being

Steph

the

Noelle

queen. I have so many writing projects, like I have that, that same desk that you do? Yes. All over the place.

Steph

Mm-hmm.

Noelle

Um, and I keep getting new ideas. I just got a new idea for kind of a self-help book and Oh, no, no, not enough.

Steph

Right. The idea is they just keep coming and there's just not enough time and there's not enough space. There's not enough hours in the day, but. It's such a beautiful thing to, to not have to say no to creativity.

Noelle

Oh, really? Well, it's always fed me mm-hmm. From childhood. Same. And I, I took several detours, you know, into academics mainly.

Steph

Mm-hmm.

Noelle

But I, I always did a little on the side. And also, you know, Lincoln was a major, major supporter and encourager, and so that. Really helped me too, uh, to, to keep going and to keep doing more things.

Steph

It matters, doesn't it, when you have a partner that. Encourages your creative pursuits and your ambition, rather than having a partner that either dismisses them or is threatened by them that's

Noelle

right. He, he, Chad was. Mm-hmm. And after a while I stopped telling him about, you know, yeah. Small victories.

Steph

I knew I would never be able to have the as big of dreams as I wanted to when I was in that relationship. Yeah.

Noelle

Yeah.

Steph

Feels much better now.

Noelle

I'm so glad for you. That's wonderful.

Steph

Well, you're a wonderful role model and I am, I'm so grateful first that you shared the piece and then that you were willing to read it, and then finally that I got to have this time talking with you. Um, I really admire you.

Noelle

Thank you. Well, I admire you too tremendously, yes.

Steph

This conversation has just, it's been the highlight of my day.

Noelle

Mine too. Thank you for this. As I said, for this opportunity and for getting to know you. You are delightful as well. Thank

Steph

you. Thank you. Bye Noelle.

Noelle

Bye-bye.