Divorce’s Ripple: Midlife Healing, Blended Families, and Finding Your Tribe
Divorce rarely behaves like a clean break; it moves like a wave, touching everyone and everything in its path. In this episode, Kim, RNBSN and founder of Thin Space Wellness, steps into the tender truth of midlife and divorce with unusual candor. She revisits a childhood marked by multiple divorces, the loss of her mother, and the layered roles of step-parents and half-siblings. That early, messy map shaped the ideal she later chased: a love like her parents’—the one her father never emotionally outlived. The story unfolds in three acts: a first marriage that felt wrong before the vows dried; a second marriage eroded by narcissism, blame, and the relentless weight of trying to fix what didn’t want to heal; and a third, redemptive partnership that emerged from an unexpected Match.com message. The narrative is not sensational. It’s everyday hard: social events with exes, family divided loyalties, and the quiet ache of shame that lingers even when decisions are right.
The practical and emotional costs of divorce show up everywhere—on front porches and in courtrooms, in school pickup lines and in the space between friends who don’t know which side to choose. Kim describes that ripple effect in unflinching detail: how photos cataloged not joy but the arguments that framed them; how the smear of false stories felt like a scarlet letter; how telling her father meant risking the most important mirror in her life, and how his decision to ask hard questions—and then believe her—became a lifeline. These moments reveal what many experience in silence: divorce is trauma-adjacent. It fractures networks, routines, and identities. It forces renegotiations with friends, in-laws, faith communities, and the self. This theme resonates for anyone navigating separation, blended families, co-parenting, or simply the midlife reckoning with what no longer fits.
From that wreckage, Kim maps strategies for healing that feel lived-in, not prescriptive. Training for an Ironman becomes an anchor: a structured container for anxiety, grief, and anger that converts chaos into motion. Physical rigor mirrors emotional boundaries—saying no to narrative traps, walking away from smear campaigns, and refusing to carry blame that doesn’t belong to you. She speaks frankly about people-pleasing, how it masquerades as kindness while slowly erasing the self, and how midlife finally offered the leverage to choose differently. The shift isn’t tidy. It looks like moving upstairs to trial-separate, returning to counseling with evidence in hand, and calling time during a rain-soaked camping trip when a partner’s rage landed near a child. It looks like choosing to be seen—eye patches, Ewok parka, and all—without apologizing for what brings comfort.
There’s a wider lens here: the civic and social realities of divorce. Teachers, neighbors, extended families—all feel the aftershocks. Kim names the awkward logistics of graduations and birthdays where two constellations of relatives orbit the same child. She calls out how shame thrives in secrecy, and how midlife offers permission to step outside old scripts. The remedy she prescribes is community with backbone: friends who listen without fueling drama, mentors who mirror reality, and a tribe that loves your children in practical ways when you’re too tired to stand. She argues for building a support team like you’d build an endurance plan: counselor, primary care, legal guidance, co-parenting agreements, and routines that regulate your nervous system. Sleep, movement, sunlight, hydration—none are glamorous, all are effective.
What stands out is the unapologetic embrace of joy as a healing practice. Posting a photo because it delights you. Wearing the jacket that keeps you warm even if it looks ridiculous to someone who isn’t in your weather. Saying yes to a partner whose presence lifts a room and whose kiss quietly says, I know your past and I still choose you. This is not toxic positivity; it’s resilient realism. Kim acknowledges grief for the children she won’t have, the seasons that closed, and the friends lost in the crossfire. She also insists that growth is available after forty—sometimes because the earlier story shattered. Her invitation is both simple and brave: if you’re stuck, ask for help; if you don’t have a tribe, borrow hers; if you need a mirror, choose one that tells you the truth.
As the episode closes, Kim looks forward: retreats in Estes Park for divorced women and blended families, deeper dives into how divorce affects communities, and open calls for guests who want to share stories that heal. The takeaway is a quiet manifesto for midlife: you are allowed to revise your life. Leave when it’s unsafe to stay. Protect your children without poisoning their love. Choose boundaries over battles you can’t win. And when shame taps your shoulder, remember that surviving doesn’t make you suspect—it makes you seasoned. Divorce may split a household, but it doesn’t have to fracture who you are.