I was Divorced, In Love, and Still Lived With My Ex

Even with awkward moments, loft beds, and new love, our cohabitation became a different kind of success story.

My girlfriend and I have been quietly planning to launch a new podcast, Tripping Over Love—but after reading that Washington Post piece on cohabitating-while-separated, I couldn’t stay quiet any longer. We weren’t expecting to post on social for another month or two, closer to launch. But this couldn’t wait.

It didn’t just hit close to home. It hit me right where I used to get out of bed most mornings—which was actually my son’s bed.

For a few years after my ex and I separated, we cohabitated while our kids finished high school. Our daughter was a high school freshman at the time. She goes off to college next year. During that time, I slept in my son's bedroom while he was away at college. When he was home, I reluctantly returned to the loft bed I had crammed into what used to be the office—a space that adjoined the master bedroom, where my ex still slept. We still shared a bathroom.

I like to think I’m a fairly athletic 48-year-old, but finding the foothold on the shelf that served as my ladder up to that loft bed when I had to pee at 3 a.m. felt increasingly like a roll of the dice.

And honestly, that scramble for footing showed up in other ways too.

What is it like for a separated or divorcing couple to orbit each other in the same house for years? Do you pretend nothing’s changed while trying to untangle your private lives? Every shared hallway, every casual kitchen encounter—it’s another roll of the dice. Would it be neutral? Tense? Heartbreaking?

Andrea Javor’s Washington Post piece speaks candidly to that question. She shares her own experience of feeling trapped by cohabitation and highlights the emotional toll of sharing meals, chores and space with an ex. It’s honest, and probably reflects the norm.

But I want people to know it can work differently too.

In our case, the hard work of holding the household together in a respectful, intentional way was worth it. That didn’t mean it was without weird moments.

One day, my girlfriend was over at the house shared by my ex and I, when a neighbor asked if I could move “my friend’s” car. Most people in our lives knew the situation, but I rarely saw this neighbor. I figured I’d update her.

“I can get my girlfriend’s keys and move it for you,” I said.

She took it harder than our kids did. Her expression cycled through all seven stages of grief as I stood there behind my lawnmower. I had to shift into caretaker/therapist mode just to help her process the news.

Reading Javor’s piece left me with a similar feeling. I wanted to offer a counter-narrative. Not to dismiss how hard this is—but to say, it’s possible. Our marriage was good in so many ways. Why shouldn’t that mindset carry over to our decision to divorce?

Divorce is never easy. And I’d be lying if I said there weren’t moments when I felt like a complete failure. But after 24 years as a marriage and trauma therapist, I’ve learned that sometimes the sacrifices we make on the altar of being “good parents” eventually need to be sacrificed themselves—for the sake of our own sanity.

And for us, continuing to cohabitate meant our divorce held the same integrity our marriage once did. We communicated openly. We maintained a friendship rooted in respect, trust, and genuine care.

Maybe our setup wasn’t for everyone. But it worked for us—awkward moments, loft beds, and all. And in a world that often sees divorce as a collapse, I think it’s worth showing what it can look like to simply... evolve.

That’s exactly why we’re launching Tripping Over Love—because no one is immune to stumbling through it. Whether you’re dating, divorcing, re-partnering, or just trying to survive one more dinner with your in-laws, love has a way of catching us off guard. I hope you’ll tune in and join us for honest conversations about how to succeed at love—even as, and sometimes because of, how it trips us up. After all, whether it’s falling in love or falling apart, navigating a breakup or a breakthrough, there’s no such thing as a bad trip… right?

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