Tuesday, 6 October 2026

Apparently, Everyone Knows How My Divorce Should Work

Ibu Suri said something today that made me stop and think: “Everyone I know who married a Saudi was given something substantial by their husband.”

And I just sat there,  Really, Ibu Suri? πŸ˜‚

I love Ibu Suri. I understand where she's coming from.

She's thinking about Dika's future. She's thinking about security.

She's thinking: Dika is getting divorced. She shouldn't walk away with nothing.

I understand that. But there is a tiny problem with comparing my marriage to everyone else's.

I'm not married to everyone else. I'm married to him.

And apparently, Ibu Suri has developed an entirely different version of my divorce in her head.

A version where the husband who barely wants to remain connected to me suddenly receives a request for something completely fucking impossible and responds: “Of course. Why didn't you ask sooner?” πŸ˜‚

Meanwhile, reality is standing in the corner smoking a cigarette.

Because this is the same man who has made it very clear that he wants the marriage to end.

The same man who can barely manage a basic human conversation with me.

The same man whose goodbye was essentially: “Good luck with everything.”

And now I'm supposed to walk up and make some enormous request as if we're still sitting around discussing our future together?

Please. I would rather ask a brick wall to develop emotional intelligence.

At least the brick wall wouldn't look surprised. πŸ˜‚ And here's the funny part.

I actually know better than to make some ridiculous demand just because somebody else thinks I should.

I know how it would look. 

It would look like: “Marriage ending. Woman makes impossible request.”

Cue dramatic music. Cue outrage.

Cue: “Are you fucking kidding me?”

And honestly? 

I would probably have the exact same reaction if I were standing on the other side.

Because there's a difference between asking for something you believe you have a legitimate reason to request…

and throwing an absurd number into the room because someone else's husband once did something similar.

I'm not interested in pretending someone else's marriage is mine.

I'm not interested in turning my divorce into a competition.

I'm not interested in saying: “Well, her husband did this, so mine should too.”

That's not how human beings work. And it's definitely not how this marriage works.

Ibu Suri sees it from the outside. 

She sees Dika, who is about to walk away from a marriage, and worries: “What will Dika have afterward?”

I see it from the inside. I know exactly how far away this relationship has already become.

I know what the last year has felt like. I know what that hotel lobby felt like.

I know what it felt like to stand in front of someone who used to be my husband and realize that we could barely find anything to say to each other beyond practical matters.

So when someone suggests making an impossible request of him, my brain immediately goes: Girl. Are you trying to get murdered by email? πŸ˜‚ 

No thank you.

There are things I will discuss with my lawyer. There are things I will ask about.

There are things I may reasonably pursue. 

And there are things that belong in the category of: “Absolutely fucking not. Let's remain attached to reality.”

Because I don't want revenge. I don't want to punish him. 

I don't want to squeeze every last thing out of him just because the marriage is ending.

I want to walk through this process with my dignity intact.

Even if my dignity occasionally needs to sit down and cry in a cafΓ© with three coffees named after an ex-husband. πŸ˜‚

And maybe that's what people don't understand.

A divorce isn't an auction where everyone starts shouting numbers until somebody wins.

It's the dismantling of a life. There are emotions.

There are legal rights. There are financial realities. There are negotiations.

There are two people who may no longer want the same things.

And somewhere inside all of that, you have to figure out: What is actually reasonable?

Not: What did someone else's husband give her?

Not: What would sound impressive?

Not: What would make everyone feel like I won?

Just: What is reasonable for my situation?

That's the question I want answered. Because I don't need an impossible request.

I need a realistic outcome.

Something that allows me to leave this marriage without feeling like I've been thrown into the ocean with nothing but a goodbye and good intentions.

And if that means Ibu Suri continues telling me stories about what other husbands gave their wives…

well. I love you, Ibu Suri.

But please stop designing my divorce using other people's marriages as reference material. πŸ˜‚

Because this isn't their marriage.

It's mine. And unfortunately, there is no magical husband upgrade package available at checkout.

I checked. Very disappointing customer service. πŸ˜‚

So I'll let my lawyer deal with the actual numbers. 

I'll let the process determine what is realistic. And I'll let Ibu Suri keep her theories.

Because apparently every family has one person who thinks every problem can be solved by asking for something completely fucking impossible.

In this family… apparently that's Ibu Suri. πŸ˜‚

And me?

I'm just trying to get through the divorce without turning it into a hostage negotiation.

One document at a time. One painful day at a time.

And preferably without asking anyone for the impossible.

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