I have been thinking a lot about the words quality of life.
What do they really mean?
My dog, Jersey Girl, is 17 years old. I got her when she was just five weeks old, and I love her beyond words.
For so many years, it was Jersey Girl and me.
She was with me long before I met Steve, long before I got married, and through so many chapters of my life. She hasn’t just been my dog. She has been one of the constants in my life for almost 17 years.
Which is probably why what I am facing now feels so incredibly hard.
Jersey Girl can no longer see. She often walks in circles, seemingly unsure of where she is. She sleeps most of the day and has lost control of her bodily functions.
And that happy, affectionate, lovey little personality that made Jersey Girl Jersey Girl isn’t really there anymore.
And I find myself facing the question every pet owner dreads:
When is it time?
There is so much guilt attached to even thinking those words.
Because when you love someone, your instinct is to hold on.
You question yourself constantly.
Is today really the day?
Could there be another good week? Another good month?
Am I making this decision for her or for me?
And perhaps the hardest question of all:
Am I keeping Jersey Girl here because she still has a good quality of life or because I cannot bear the pain and guilt of saying goodbye?
As I have wrestled with that question, it has made me think about something completely different, yet strangely connected to the work I do every day.
What does quality of life mean for a family?
I have worked with people who have remained in deeply unhappy marriages for years because they genuinely believed staying together was better for their children.
Sometimes the love between the parents disappeared long ago.
Sometimes a home is filled with hostility, resentment, silence or constant conflict.
And sometimes it is much more serious.
There may be coercive control. Emotional abuse. Financial control. Fear. Intimidation. Or other forms of abuse that may leave no visible bruises but can profoundly affect everyone living inside that home.
Parents often say:
“I’m staying for the children.”
But the children are living inside that marriage too.
They hear what is said.
They notice what isn’t said.
They feel the tension.
They see how one parent speaks to or treats the other.
And whether we realize it or not, they are learning what love, partnership, conflict and marriage look like by watching the people raising them.
So perhaps one of the hardest questions a parent can ask is:
At what point does staying together for the children begin to negatively affect the very children you are trying to protect?
But there is something incredibly important that needs to be said here.
Recognizing that something needs to change and being able to safely change it are two very different things.
Particularly where coercive control or abuse exists, leaving is not as simple as packing a suitcase and walking out the door.
There may be fear. Financial dependence. Threats. Children. Housing concerns. Legal issues. Mortgages. Shared assets. And very real safety considerations.
You may need an exit plan. And you need the right professional team around you.
Family and friends can provide love and emotional support, and that is invaluable.
But they cannot replace professionals who understand the legal, emotional, financial and practical complexities of separation, coercive control and abuse.
That team may include a family lawyer, divorce coach, therapist, financial planner, mortgage professional and other specialists depending on the circumstances.
People who understand this space.
People who can help you plan rather than react.
People who can help you understand your options before you make decisions.
And people who can help you move safely and thoughtfully toward whatever comes next.
I also want to be clear: I am not suggesting that every unhappy marriage should end.
Relationships go through difficult seasons. People can reconnect. Counselling can help. Families can heal.
But I do believe we sometimes confuse holding on with loving.
They aren’t always the same thing.
Sometimes love means fighting to repair something.
Sometimes love means creating boundaries.
Sometimes love means asking for help.
And sometimes love means recognizing that the quality of the life being lived matters more than preserving something simply because we are afraid to let it go.
That is the uncomfortable connection I keep coming back to when I look at my beautiful Jersey Girl.
I don’t want to say goodbye.
I want the Jersey Girl she was.
I want her excitement. Her affection. Her personality. All those little things that made her her.
But loving her also means looking honestly at the life she is living today, rather than only remembering the wonderful life we have shared.
Maybe there is a lesson in that for all of us.
When we are facing painful decisions about our animals, our relationships, our homes or the next chapter of our lives perhaps the question shouldn’t always be:
“How much longer can I hold on?”
Maybe sometimes the more loving question is:
“What does quality of life look like now?”
And then having the courage and the right support around us to listen to the answer.
I need to give a very special thank you to Stacey Mendelson.
Stacey is a Divorce Coach I have had the privilege of working alongside on some incredibly difficult files. She has particular experience supporting women navigating high-conflict separations, coercive control and abusive relationships, including helping them think through and build an exit plan with the appropriate professional support around them.
But there is another part of Stacey’s background that made our recent conversation especially meaningful to me:
Before becoming a Divorce Coach, Stacey was a veterinarian.
In our conversation, those two very different parts of her professional life somehow came together.
She understood the heartbreaking questions I was asking about Jersey Girl’s quality of life.
But she also understood why those questions were making me think about the families we work with people who may know that the life they are living is no longer healthy or sustainable, yet are terrified, overwhelmed or simply don’t know how to begin changing it.
Stacey didn’t tell me what to do.
She helped me look honestly at what was in front of me and ask myself the questions I perhaps wasn’t quite ready to ask.
She did that with the knowledge of a former veterinarian, the perspective of a Divorce Coach who works in some extremely difficult situations, and, for me personally, the compassion of a friend.
Our conversation helped me see something I think I already knew but wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge:
Sometimes the loving decision and the decision that hurts the most can be the very same decision.
I don’t think I could have written this article without that conversation.
Thank you, Stacey.
And if you are reading this because something in my words feels familiar, I am tagging Stacey and a few other trusted professionals who understand these transitions.
Not because I know what someone else’s answer should be.
But because particularly when coercive control or abuse is involved, recognizing that you want your life to change may only be the beginning.
Having a safe exit plan and the right professional team around you can be an essential part of what comes next.
Divorce Coach: Stacey Mendelson
Family Lawyer: Deborah Perkins-Leitman
Therapist: Karen Goslin MSW, RSW
Financial Evaluator: Antonina Wasowska CPA, CA, CBV, CFF
Sexual Assault Harassment Human Rights Lawyer: Kathryn Marshall
