They say divorce is like a death without the funeral. There are no casseroles dropped at your door, no workplace sympathy cards, no neighbours checking in with flowers. 

Instead, there’s a cold emptiness when the kids are at their dad’s house, a wine glass that’s permanently half full, and a sudden, reckless hunger for distractions.

Over the past few months, I’ve spoken to women about what really happens after a marriage ends – after the divorce party glitter settles and they’re left alone in the quiet of singledom, while their friends remain coupled up.

And while some throw themselves into yoga, therapy or self-help books, others admit to falling headfirst into bad habits they never once considered during their marriage. 

Drinking too much. Compulsive shopping. Risky sex with the sort of men they wouldn’t normally give a second look. Even illegal drugs. 

It turns out that divorce doesn’t just split a household, it can split open a person. After hearing horror stories of post-divorce addiction on the grapevine, here are just some of the stories women shared with me…

Wine filled the silence 

One of my Instagram followers swore she’d never been much of a drinker – until her husband of 15 years decided their marriage was over. 

I’ve spoken to many women about what really happens after a marriage ends. Spiralling into addiction – whether it’s alcohol, drugs, sex or even shopping – is surprisingly common

‘I was the one at parties who’d volunteer to drive everyone home,’ she told me. 

But after her marriage ended – and she had no say in the matter – wine became a part of her bedtime routine. 

‘At first it was one glass at night to help me sleep. Within six months, I was polishing off a bottle most nights when the kids were at his place,’ she said.

‘I’d wake up groggy, late for work, and then beat myself up about it. The cycle became part of how I coped.’

It got so bad that she began to dread any kind of silence.

‘The moment the house was quiet, all I could hear was the voice in my head asking, “What did I do wrong?” Wine shut that voice up – at least until morning,’ she said.

Confessions of a shopaholic 

A friend told me she didn’t touch alcohol after her divorce, but she replaced the void with shopping.

One woman ended up $20,000 in debt after using online shopping to cure her loneliness (stock image)

‘I’d never been a big spender,’ she said.

‘But once my marriage ended, I started blowing entire pay cheques online at 2am.

‘Shoes, dresses, beauty products, handbags. I’d get a dopamine hit when the parcels arrived, but then I’d feel sick when I looked at my bank statement.’

Her ‘self-medicating with handbags’ left her with $20,000 in debt in just a year.

‘I was literally buying myself into a hole because it distracted me from the fact my life had just collapsed,’ she said.

Addicted to sex 

Sex, too, can become a drug. One formerly frustrated housewife told me she had endured a sexless marriage for almost a decade. 

‘When it was finally over, I downloaded every dating app I could find and went wild. I was having flings with guys ten years younger, guys who lived in my building, men I met at bars, even some who didn’t speak English,’ she said.

‘It wasn’t about connection. It was about proving to myself I was still desirable.’

Another delved into a series of casual hook-ups after her marriage ended (stock image)

For a while, she loved it.

While it was a thrill to rediscover her libido, eventually the anonymous sex left her feeling emptier.

‘One morning I looked at the stranger in my bed and realised I didn’t even remember his name. That was the low point. I knew I was just swapping one type of loneliness for another.’

The Tinder monster

Another woman agreed her poison wasn’t drugs or alcohol – it was sex. 

‘My ex hadn’t touched me in years. Once I was single, it was like unleashing a beast. I matched with anyone and everyone. We’re talking tradies, accountants, younger, older, even one of my kid’s teachers,’ she told me.

The thrill didn’t last and the initial buzz from what she described as ‘swiping for validation’ always wore off.

‘I thought sleeping with five guys in a week meant I was winning. Then I realised I couldn’t remember half their names. I wasn’t proving I was desirable. I was just terrified of being alone,’ she said.

The cocaine double life 

Another woman said she had never touched drugs during her marriage.

But within months of her separation, she found herself snorting lines with strangers in bathrooms and checking into hotel rooms to escape the judging eyes of neighbours.

‘It was like living a double life. School pick-up at 3pm, champagne and coke by 10pm. I felt invincible until the comedown hit like a ton of bricks,’ she told me.

At the height of her addiction, she burned through thousands of dollars a month on cocaine. 

‘It wasn’t about the drugs. It was about avoiding the silence of going home to an empty house,’ she said.

The divorce makeover

Then there was the woman who spent her settlement money on liposuction, a boob job, Botox and a brand-new wardrobe – all in the space of six months. 

‘I thought if I looked better than his new girlfriend, I’d win,’ she told me. ‘But I ended up broke and bruised – and still single.’

Her friends eventually staged an intervention after she admitted she was considering a facelift before her 40th birthday.

Gabriella Pomare, family lawyer and author of The Collaborative Co-Parent, said some women threw themselves into sex and alcohol after a separation in search of a part of themselves they lost during marriage

Why it happens

I spoke to Gabriella Pomare, family lawyer and author of The Collaborative Co-Parent, who told me that post-divorce addiction can be fairly common.

‘When separation first happens, there’s often this rush of freedom that collides with deep grief,’ she said. 

‘I’ve seen it in so many clients over the years. 

‘For women especially, who may have spent years prioritising children, households, or just walking on eggshells, the sudden release can be intoxicating. 

‘Some throw themselves into sex, drugs, alcohol, shopping or partying. It’s not because they’re “crazy”, but because they’re searching for something that was missing, trying to fill a void or reclaim a part of themselves they felt they lost.’

Gabriella revealed that after her own marriage breakdown, she felt like she needed to make up for lost time.

‘I was young when I married, and when my marriage ended, I felt like I had missed out on my twenties,’ she said.

‘Suddenly I wanted late nights, reckless fun, saying yes to things I never allowed myself before. It wasn’t sustainable, but it was a stage I had to go through to reclaim my sense of identity.’

Women opened up about spiralling into alcohol addiction after a separation (stock image)

The shame spiral

What struck me most about the women I spoke to wasn’t just their bad habits, but the shame wrapped around them. These weren’t women with a history of addiction.

These were teachers, mums, corporate professionals: women who thought of themselves as ‘together’. And yet, their divorce cracked something open.

‘I’d tell myself, tomorrow I’ll stop,’ said the wine lover-turned-reluctant drinker.

‘But tomorrow never came. I couldn’t bring myself to tell my friends, because I didn’t want to be that cliché: the sad, drunk divorcée.’

Breaking the cycle

The good news is, these habits don’t have to be permanent. 

Many of the women I spoke with found a way out through therapy, support groups or by simply realising that their coping mechanism was doing more harm than good.

For example, one woman who became hooked on dating apps pivoted to exercise.

‘I deleted the apps. I started running. The first time I crossed a finish line instead of a bedpost, I felt genuinely proud of myself,’ she said.

The shopaholic joined a financial literacy group for women and slowly climbed out of debt. 

The wine lover started journalling and going for long walks. She said: ‘It sounds corny, but writing down how I felt was harder at first than drinking. But the clarity it gave me was worth it.’

Divorce may be the end of a marriage, but it doesn’t have to be the start of self-destruction. If there’s one thing these women taught me, it’s that we need to talk about the messy in-between.

Because when you shine a light on the shame, you realise you’re not alone. And maybe that’s the best antidote of all.