Wine, rebounds andretail therapy…
Are you really coping?
The first Friday night after your separation, you find yourself standing in front of the fridge with a glass of rosé in hand, still wearing the clothes you cried in all day. Your kids were finally asleep.
The silence in the house was so loud it buzzed in your ears. It was not drinking to enjoy the wine, but so you wouldn’t feel the lump in your throat.
So you wouldn’t sit down on the floor and fall apart.
So you wouldn’t have to think about how empty the bed — and life — suddenly felt.
And for a while, it helped.
Until it didn’t.
When life shatters in the way only separation can, our brains and bodies instinctively search for something — anything — to make the pain stop.
Maybe you throw yourself into work.
Maybe you line up back-to-back social events just to avoid being
home alone.
Maybe you start swiping through dating apps late at night, not because you’re ready to date, but because you need to know someone still
wants you.
Maybe you over-function — house spotless, lunches packed, calendar full — because falling apart isn’t an option when you’re the one holding it all together.
Or maybe you just go numb. You stop feeling altogether. You bury it deep and hope it doesn’t resurface.
The truth is, we all cope in the ways we’ve learned
Some of us overdo. Some of us shut down. Some reach for sugar, wine, adrenaline, or anything that helps us escape.
None of this makes you weak. It makes you human.
You were never taught how to grieve a life that still looks mostly the same from the outside — the school runs, the inboxes, the shopping lists. But inside? Everything has changed.
So we reach for what soothes — even if it’s just a band-aid.
Even if it never really touches the wound.
There’s no shame in needing relief
But the question I had to ask myself — and maybe you do too — is:
Am I healing, or just avoiding the pain?
The difference is subtle but powerful.
Avoidance says: “Don’t feel it.”
Healing says: “Feel it… safely.”
And healing doesn’t have to look like sitting in a therapist’s office sobbing every Tuesday (though that can be part of it).
Sometimes it looks like:
Whispering, “I’m not okay,” into the quiet night.
Letting tears fall in the car before picking up the kids.
Writing down your truth — messy, raw, and real — without editing yourself.
Saying no to another event you don’t have the energy to smile through.
Sitting in the discomfort instead of running from it.
And sometimes, it looks like choosing comfort that restores you, not
numbs you.
You don’t have to do it all at once
If you’ve been leaning on wine, work, shopping, or distractions to get through the day — I see you.
But healing invites us to get curious, not critical. To ask gently,
“What am I actually needing right now?”
“Is this helping me feel more like myself, or less?”
If you’re tired of just getting by — if you want to feel like you again — you’re not alone.
At Re-Charge, we’re here to walk with you through the unraveling and the rebuilding. Through the numbness and the clarity. Through the grief and the joy that slowly returns.
You don’t have to pretend you’re fine.
You just have to take the next kind step.
We’ll meet you there.
With love,
Kerstin and the Re-Charge Team