This year marks the 30th anniversary of marital divorce being legalised in Ireland. That said, the ‘Yes’ vote was almost pipped at the post, falling over the line by less than 0.5%.
That was in 1995, not in the dark ages. Five years previously, the same nation had been bursting with optimism for Italia ’90.
And yet, winning a World Cup on our debut seemed somehow more plausible than the possibility of dissolving a dysfunctional partnership. In a sense, we were married to marriage, good or bad, for better or worse.
Now, 30 years later, we’re throwing parties to celebrate divorce.
Catherine Kiveney, founder of DivorceParty.ie, says, “Divorce in Ireland is no longer a taboo subject. In fact, it is a growing trend for people to celebrate their newfound freedom with a party.”
Catherine, who initially organised hens and stags, was prompted to branch out to divorce parties in 2015, when she received a call. The woman’s wedding had been cancelled, but she refused to let that stand in the way of a reason to party.
Divorce rates increased by 35% between 2015 and 2022, but a celebratory party was not the norm. The recently liberated might enjoy a drink with a friend, but it was usually a hushed affair.
We celebrate a couple vowing to spend a happy life together, so why not celebrate them emancipating themselves from being conjoined in a miserable life?
In today’s culture, we are constantly encouraged to practice self-care. And what is a better expression of self-love than a celebration that is all about you?
Dating and life coach Frances Kelleher says, “It’s time to remove the punitiveness, the stigma, and shame. Healthy relationships don’t end. Life is short; our time here is fleeting. Too short to spend it in a relationship that is making you unhappy.” That Catherine’s bookings are increasing suggests the inherited generational guilt is fading.
Chloe, 37, from Dublin, is unfazed by societal stigma. Rather than feel the need to justify her divorce celebration, she believes it is well deserved. “I didn’t have a party before I got married, so I’ve earned this.” There are engagement parties, hen parties, baby showers, gender-reveal parties and, well, countless wedding anniversaries. We mark each step of a relationship, but when people decided they would be happier parting, they invariably did so discreetly.
Catherine tells how divorce parties mean different things for different people. “It can be a weekend away in a hotel or a wild activity, such as burlesque dancing or drawing a naked man. Others choose a relaxed spa day, while, for some, a fun activity, like paint n’ sip at home with their biggest supporters, is more their style.”
Chloe has chosen a weekend away. She says, “I’m thinking Westport, the wildness of the West, with its untamed scenery, seems fitting.” She has “always been a hippie at heart” and she’s leaning in to that.
“This party is for the part of me that never quite fit into a box. Life is messy. I hate the phrase ‘failed marriage’. I haven’t failed. It’s not a stain on my character because it didn’t work out. It takes a lot of strength to leave, so why wouldn’t I celebrate it?”
Divorce is a lengthy process, and, often, by the time it has been finalised the tears have dried. Catherine considers divorce parties multi-faceted.
A divorce party, she says, is when you receive your decree absolute. In Ireland, that is granted 12 months after the application has been submitted, and that’s after you’ve spent the requisite three years living separately. By the time the decree arrives, many people have made peace with it.
Chloe says, “While mourning my marriage, I couldn’t listen to Stevie Nicks’s Landslide without tears. The line, ‘I’ve been afraid of changing, because I built my world around you’, she was singing my thoughts. Now, it resonates differently. To me, Stevie is a strong, daring, formidable force of a woman, so maybe I’ve become one, too? I’ve weathered the storm.”
She elaborates, “While this is not about bitterness or blame, marriage can be a bit of an uphill battle. So, one of my activities is climbing Croagh Patrick. It’s known as a holy pilgrimage; people clap you on the back for having the courage to do it, so it’s kind of symbolic. I plan on leaving all the shame and guilt I’ve felt at the top.”
The lady has a point. Why not combine cardio with closure?
She tells how, “after watching Maura Higgins perform Celine Dion’s It’s All Coming Back to Me Now in the jungle, I’m tempted to belt it out with the girls. The line ‘I can barely recall, but it’s all coming back to me now’ is how I feel as I step back in to single life.
“Singing it loudly on the top of a mountain, where we’re free to sound like a pet shop on fire, might be cathartic.”
The psychologist’s other activities are far more chilled, but equally as emblematic. For example, a cocktail-making class, serving as a nod to her days as a single, carefree student working in a bar. Leaving a marriage is a learning curve. You rediscover you.
Chloe says, “I’m a Guinness girl, but I want to do it purely for the punchy names I’ve thought of.” She laughs. “The No Regretini, Separation Sangria, Freedom Fizz, Divorcee Daiquiri.” She’s clearly been brainstorming.
Then there is what she calls the ‘Pillow talk, girl power hour’, when a distributor will spend an hour educating the ladies on the latest ‘sensual products’.
Yes, she means adult toys. Her background in psychology is really shining though. It’s almost an act of reclamation, focused on autonomy, pleasure, and self-love.
Marking a divorce is not invalidating the grief for the end of what you thought was for ever. Catherine considers a party to be a way to celebrate a new beginning and show your friends and family you are strong and resilient.
Frances reaffirms that we should not feel guilty for embracing the freedom that comes with divorce. She says, “Forget the opinions of others. What the neighbours think is irrelevant; you only have one go at life.”
Marriage doesn’t guarantee a happy ending, just an ending. This is something that tends to be forgotten. People get lost in the fantasy of happy ever after and see getting wed as crossing a finish line of some kind.
Marriage is a finish line: It marks the end of single life. It doesn’t make the relationship between the people involved any more likely to work out. You close the door on single life, but there will always be the possibility of an unforeseen strong wind that may blow it open.
That should not bring shame or a feeling of failure; divorce is very often not an end, but a beginning. It’s obvious Chloe has come to terms with the end of what she thought would be her fairytale and is ready to begin writing the next chapter of her life.
That’s something to celebrate.
