I refuse to be bitter

When I got divorced, life hit hard.

The emotions were raw.

Trust? Nonexistent.

The future? Clouded and shaky.

I moved into a small apartment. One of those places quietly designed for people like me.

People rebuilding.

People with children.

People trying to find a new rhythm in the chaos.

My son was just 8 months old.

And I was surrounded - above, below, on both sides - by others who had lived through some version of the same storm. Divorced, alone, starting over.

In those first weeks, we talked. A lot.

About what had happened.

About what broke.

About the hurt.

About how hard it was to imagine trusting again.

One night, one of them handed me a book.

She said it was brilliant.

The premise?

Everyone cheats.

Not just some.

Everyone. Given the right circumstances.

I didn’t even make it a quarter through.

Not because it was badly written.

Not because I was in denial.

But because I realized something very clearly in that moment:

I refuse to believe that.

I refuse to let that be my worldview.

I refuse to let someone else’s cynicism become my truth.

I refuse to be bitter.

Yes, people hurt each other.

Yes, betrayal happens.

Yes, my world had crumbled.

But even as I was still crawling out of that hole, I knew one thing:I wanted to believe in good again.

I wanted to believe that people can be kind.

That trust can be rebuilt.

That not everyone lies or cheats or leaves.

I didn’t want to sit in circles talking about how awful men are.

I didn’t want to recite stories about who did what to whom.

I didn’t want to wrap myself in anger just because it felt safer than hope.

Because bitterness might feel like a shield, but it’s really a cage.

And I didn’t want to live in a cage.

Not for myself. Not for my son. Not for the life I still wanted to build.

So I made a choice.

Even in the mess.

Even in the heartbreak.

Even when I didn’t know how to begin again.

I chose to believe there was something brighter ahead.

I chose hope.

I chose kindness.

I chose love, even if it was still far away.

And above all…

I chose not to be bitter.