Poet Elena Likhach about her divorce from her husband.

“Get a divorce while saving face” – before it seemed to me that it was impossible to come up with a more stupid wording. And now, now I myself am standing on the scaffold, and I am trying not to make an extra move, risking being spit on chewed carrots and other people’s opinions from a nice but unsafe audience – relatives, friends and colleagues.

On the other hand. It has long been clear how the institute of condemnation works: a person who is truly close will understand the situation and will be as ready to help as possible. And the rest, perhaps, let them walk in the forest.

We finally decided to get divorced. Sami. Nobody told me, to be honest. Only he and I sit down at the “negotiating table”. We have this table in my kitchen. We both understand that we do not want to save the marriage – the attempts have dried up, as well as any desire on both sides. Scandals, claims, ultimatums – all this has already been, believe me, no effect. Although no, I threw off three kilograms, probably, it was the nerve cells that “gone”.

Moreover, this is not a spontaneous conversation, for two years now we have been living our own lives. And sooner or later, such a relationship ends in a divorce on paper. Especially when things of another woman appear in a man’s house.

So, we sit, drink tea, some kind of oolong, like Tie Guan Yin. We talk carefree and at ease, as if we plan to spend all subsequent family evenings this way. Only the adjective “family” from the previous sentence will soon fly out with a bang.

By the way, this is the most relaxed and light tea drinking in the last few years. It is free from hostility: we are not trying to be cunning, sarcastic and hide something, we are not faced with the task of saving the marriage, separating the children.

There are no issues at all with children. They love their dad and can spend as much time with him as they want. It is not their fault that adults, over the years, begin to behave like children themselves. Of course, they don’t really understand us. From the outside, we did not look like spouses to whom the only thing left was to get a divorce.

Well, our divorce falls short in terms of drama with Depp and Heard’s rift. And where are they before us: a year and a half against fifteen – miserable teenagers! Yes, and we do not have such a tradition – to endure everything on people. I don’t blame them, but to each his own.

Moreover, I’m not going to throw tantrums. Moreover, I have no fear. Under home clothes, I don’t know how it happened, I have what a beautiful linen, which gives plus twenty to confidence! But seriously, what’s wrong with that? Raising children alone? They are already old enough, and are more like assistants than a burden. What else to be afraid of? Honestly, I do not know.

Sorry, maybe rude, but, in my opinion, those women who are used to shifting responsibility are afraid of divorce. After all, from this very moment, all responsibilities lie with you, your beloved. And before, how convenient it was – for those who blamed their useless spouse for all their failures!

For me personally, divorce is not the final station, beyond which the rails end and there is no future. I perfectly understand that life goes on, I am not alone in this world, and nothing terrible has happened. Everything just fell into place!

“What a tragedy!” – this is how my friend (namely, a friend, not a friend) assessed our decision.

And I thought: Is it really a tragedy?

And to continue to live together when nothing connects – not a tragedy?

Hiding a smile when he appears in the kitchen – not a tragedy?

Depicting a family in public and with children is not a tragedy?

I can go on ad infinitum… and that is also a tragedy. Enough! I make a point…