59. Life Update: Divorce, Co-Parenting & Letting Go of Montana

Written By Brittany Broderick

One of the strangest parts of changing your life is that you still have to live inside of it while everything is changing. You're making enormous decisions about your family and your future, and you're also making lunch, answering emails, and figuring out what day someone has a lesson.

If you heard last week's Q&A episode or follow me on Instagram, you know I recently shared about my divorce. But saying that something is happening doesn't tell you much about what it's like to live through it. So this week's episode is a different kind of episode. It's the ordinary days underneath a really big announcement.

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Thank you

Before anything else, thank you. The love this community has shown my family since I shared the news has been overwhelming in the sweetest way. There's a vulnerability in letting people see something you've carried privately for a long time. So many of you met us with kindness, respected that some parts will stay private, and made room for something complicated without asking us to make it simple.

Staying a family

We're still very much parenting together. The kids are with each of us on alternating weeks, and we live within ten minutes of each other, so neither of us disappears from their lives for seven days at a time. I still homeschool our son twice a week, which has been a sweet point of continuity for all of us.

There's an idea I heard years ago that stayed with me: you can remain a family even when you're no longer a couple. That's what we're trying to hold at the center. When we're making decisions, we come back to a few questions. What supports the kids? What makes this transition feel more steady? Where can we be flexible with each other so their lives are easier?

Every family's circumstances are different, and this kind of cooperation isn't something one parent can create alone. I share what's possible for us, not what should be possible for everyone.

Capable isn't the same as capacity

If you've been here a while, you know we bought land in Montana with a very real dream of building a second home there. In August I took my mom out to see it. She'd never been, and I wanted someone who loves me to stand on that land with me while I made the decision.


We've decided to sell the property. There's sadness in saying that. I don't want to make it sound like I arrived at a sensible decision and all the feeling left it.

When I look at what building a house would ask of me right now, alongside running my businesses and learning to be a single mom, I can feel how much I'd be taking on. I say this all the time in the program and the practitioner training: just because we're capable doesn't mean we have the capacity. Effort isn't the only thing I want to use to measure a decision anymore. I also want to ask what the decision leaves room for. Can I be present? Can I enjoy my children? Can I recover from a year that's asked a lot of all of us?

There's a sentence I keep coming back to: a dream can matter without becoming your next responsibility. I don't have to turn every meaningful desire into an immediate project. Some things can remain possible while I tend to what's already here.

Friends for the messy middle

One of the things making this season feel less lonely is friendship. Women have come into my life over the past six months whose timing feels divinely orchestrated. There's a particular relief in being around people who don't need you to be finished with an experience before you're considered good company. You can show up with something unresolved and still have a beautiful time together.

Going back to Mendocino

Last December, on a flight home from a work trip, I realized I was dreading going home. I didn't have an explanation for it, but I knew something in me needed my attention. By the time the plane landed, I'd booked a solo trip to Mendocino. It was my first solo trip in six years. I wrote about it in the first essay of my new Substack, Aligned + Alive.

Now I'm going back to the same place, by myself, for the first time since. The word that comes to mind is completion. Not in the sense that everything will be resolved and neatly put away. There will still be questions when I leave. I don't need the ocean to answer them. I just want some time to sit beside it.

Grief and hope in the same season

I want to grieve. So much of this has been heartbreaking, and I want to make room for that without turning it into a lesson too quickly. I also want to celebrate myself, gently. I know how frightened I was. I know how much it took.

And there's hope here too. I'm curious about my life again. I'm beginning to imagine things. Your grief doesn't have to end before your life can open up. There are moments of sadness inside days I'm so grateful for. I'm letting myself have an experience that doesn't fit neatly into one emotional category.

What I'm making room for

Next summer I'll spend about two months somewhere outside the Texas heat, with the kids joining me for one of them. Selling the land leaves room for that kind of adventure without having to build a house around it.

I'm writing again. Aligned + Alive is a 10-week season of essays every Tuesday about this chapter and the questions underneath it. How do you trust yourself? How do you keep loving the people in your life while becoming someone you haven't fully met yet? You don't have to be going through a divorce to recognize yourself in those questions.

I've also started barrel racing lessons with a friend, which is apparently the most Texas answer to "do you have hobbies?" I spend so much of my life teaching and leading. It feels good to be a beginner.

And the work I love keeps growing. Our current Somatic Practitioner Training cohort is halfway through, and the next one begins in January. Watching these practitioners prepare to bring this work into their communities is one of the most meaningful parts of my life. That question about capacity follows me into business too.

A gentle reminder

Some of my life feels settled right now, and some of it still feels tender. I don't need to pretend I've arrived somewhere finished.

If you're in a season of change, I wonder what would make the next few months feel a little more livable for you. Is there something you could stop asking yourself to carry right now? Is there something small you'd enjoy making room for, even before the bigger questions are answered? They're not an assignment. Just questions to keep close.

If you want support in your own nervous system work, you can always join Britt in the Body-First Healing Program. And if you'd like to read along this season, you'll find me on Aligned + Alive.


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This blog and podcast are for educational purposes only and are not a substitute for medical care, therapy, or crisis support. Please reach out to a qualified professional for support with your specific situation.

Brittany Broderick
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58. Q&A: How to Navigate a Relationship Ending, Functional Freeze & Nervous System Work for Beginners