Filling the Void - When a New Relationship Becomes Your Escape Plan

Imagine this.

You’ve been booked on a huge overseas trip without your consent. You’re going away for an unknown amount of time, but at the minimum, a few years.

You have no way of knowing if you have enough money. You don’t know what’s packed in your suitcase. You’re not sure who (if anyone) is going with you. You don’t know who you’ll meet over the time you’re travelling. You have no clue if your destination is safe or if it belongs on a “Do Not Travel” list.

It sounds terrifying, right?

Now imagine someone says, “Hey, you don’t have to do it alone. I can come with you, I’ve got all the supplies you might need.”

Would you say yes, even if you weren’t really sure who they were or whether or not the journey would be better or worse without them?

Chances are, you probably would.

It was overwhelming and disorienting, and all I wanted was someone — anyone — to come along and make it less frightening. That’s how I found myself in my first relationship after my marriage ended.

And that’s how a lot of people find themselves in something new way before they’re ready.

What we think we’re missing

It’s easy to say we’re just looking for love again. That we want a new relationship to help us move on.

I hear this all the time:

“I just want to meet someone.”

“I’m ready to date again.”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

And I get it. After a long relationship — mine was twelve years, but for many it’s twenty, thirty, even forty — the end can feel like a kind of death.

You're not just losing a partner, you're losing the version of yourself that existed inside that life. The shock is brutal. Suddenly, you're not someone's person anymore. You’re waking up alone, wondering if you’re still lovable or if something is fundamentally wrong with you.

You start questioning everything. Your worth, your choices, your future.

Society doesn’t make it easier. There's this unspoken judgment, like you failed at something you were supposed to hold together at all costs. People look at you differently. Some drift away. Others offer pity, which can feel just as painful.

It's not just about silence or routine. It's about shame. About being cracked open in front of the world, trying to rebuild something from the rubble — while part of you still wonders if you're even worth rebuilding.

At first, it feels like we miss our marriages and our ex. But more often, what we’re really grieving is something deeper — a sense of identity, security, and connection.

We miss the version of ourselves we used to be. And the version of ourselves we haven’t even met yet — the one we know we could become.

These are things that can’t possibly come from someone else. It can only come from within ourselves.

Divorce is a journey into the complete unknown

Separation and divorce completely reshape your identity. Suddenly, you’re trying to live a life that you have no idea how to navigate.

Questions that we can’t answer loop in our minds, driving us crazy at times.

It’s like stepping into a country you’ve never been to — without a guidebook, money, a map, or a translator.

And when it’s that unfamiliar, you want someone beside you. Just someone to make it feel a bit safer

Most of us aren’t truly ready for a new relationship right after divorce. Especially if we haven’t taken the time to sit with our pain and unpack our part in the story.

It might feel like healing. Like making progress or “moving on.” Sometimes we’re just craving the affection and attention we went without for so long.

But more often than not, that new relationship becomes something else entirely — a distraction. A shortcut. A way to bypass the uncomfortable but necessary work of healing.

I struggled badly with being alone.

I stumbled out of my marriage and straight into the dating world, desperate to find someone who would take my pain and loneliness away.

I rushed it.

I wasn’t ready — not even close. But I was in denial and was telling myself that I was.

I ended up in a very unhealthy relationship that consumed four years of my life and set my healing back in ways I’m still untangling.

I hadn’t grieved my marriage. I still hadn’t sat with my own part in the breakdown of my marriage and done the necessary work to forgive myself. My partner at the time was also avoiding the grief of his own divorce.

It was a recipe for disaster, as much as we wanted it to work so we didn’t have to face our own pain and imperfections as partners.

I know there are people who meet someone quickly after divorce and it seems to work out. I wonder what truly goes on inside their hearts. But those stories are the exception, not the rule.

For most of us, rushing into something new means robbing ourselves of the chance to figure out who we are now. We miss the opportunity to do the deep work, to reconnect with our values, our needs, and our identity outside of a relationship.

And that means we’re not meeting someone from a place of wholeness — we’re meeting them from a place of wounding, and often repeating old patterns without even realising it.

Set yourself up for future success

You can learn to trust yourself first.

Most of the fear I had after my divorce came from a lack of trust in myself. I didn’t know if I could do it alone. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to make it. I didn’t believe that I was enough on my own.

But when I did that deeper work — building up my confidence, reflecting on my past patterns, learning to meet my own needs — that’s when the real healing started.

That’s when I realised that I was more than capable of taking this journey on my own without needing anyone to rescue me.

I know how hard it is to hear that being alone is the path to healing and getting unstuck from divorce pain. I didn’t want to believe it back then either.

But looking back now, I wish I’d understood that I didn’t need to rush back in and find someone new to feel less lonely and afraid.

I would have saved myself years of stress and heartache if I’d known what I know now.

So take a little time before you seek out someone new. Give yourself space. Get to know who you are now.

Give yourself enough time to see that you can trust yourself and handle this on your own before you try to put someone in the picture.

Healing doesn’t require a partner — it requires presence with yourself.

This is how you put yourself in a much stronger, healthier place and can make future decisions about love and relationships based on logic and not fear.

Until next time,

Carol

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