'The perks of divorce nobody talks about. But everyone should hear.'

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When I first posted on my Instagram about "the perks of divorce", I didn't expect it to reach and touch so many people.

But within hours my DMs filled with messages from women (and a few men) saying they'd never seen someone talk about divorce without bitterness or pity.

The truth is, no one tells you that a breakup of that scale can be both devastating and quietly liberating.

Watch: The Spill unpack the most fascinating discoveries from Nicole and Keith's divorce filings. Post continues below.

I wrote it because I wish someone had told me these things when I was sitting alone on the floor of my new apartment, eating pizza out of the box and crying between bites.

I also wrote it because I know someone personally who really needed to hear this, so I hope she reads it. And anyone else who might need it right now, or some day in the future.

You will become addicted to your freedom (but not at first).

Being married is kind of like being in a cult. Your body becomes physiologically adapted to having a partner and so leaving feels like life and death.

Even when your marriage is physically taking a toll on your health. That's a scientific fact.

So when you're finally alone, at first it feels wrong. Illegal. Who am I without my person? Where do I put all this love? Surely it must go somewhere.

I remember being on a dating app barely a month after moving out. Trust me, I know how that sounds. The first guy I went out with, I tried to make my boyfriend.

I say tried because, as you'll soon learn, dating apps today are full of avoidant people who don't know they're avoidant using other avoidant (who also don't know they're avoidant) people to self-soothe after breakups. Myself included.

I was on a mission to prove to the invisible audience of my life that I was slaying, not crying at red lights on the Gold Coast Highway.

The result? A six-month situationship where a man who shouldn't have had access to me got to enjoy my body while I exercised my divorce demons, including ranting about my ex to him in bed. Very sexy, I know.

I'm not saying this to scare you.

I could tell you not to date straight after your separation, but you won't listen. And that's okay. It's a canon event. Every divorced person has one.

Once you get that out of your system, the stillness starts to feel good. You begin to understand the luxury of sleeping diagonally, of peace so consistent it feels decadent.

That freedom becomes addictive. And the best part? You never have to give it up again.

It's not freedom right away.

Initially it's grief, guilt, and endless paperwork. Conversations feel like submarine warfare, with each person navigating emotional depth charges.

Your friends and family get the full unfiltered monologue. You're not financially free yet. You want to scream, but you have to reply to every email with the diplomacy of Barack Obama.

But one night, you'll sit in your new place, probably on the floor with a bottle of wine and a pizza, and it'll hit you, you did it. You survived.

You're free in a way you never were before. And that feeling, that moment of punk-girl euphoria, will stay with you forever. Because for the first time in a long time, you don't have to answer to anyone.

And giving that up for just anyone? You've got to be kidding.

Your kids will be okay.

People love to blame divorce for everything. And yes, it's hard on a family. But nothing unsettles kids more than living with parents who quietly resent each other. Been there, done that.

My son used to have meltdowns in preschool and it breaks my heart to think about it. We assumed it was just a phase, but in hindsight, he was absorbing the tension at home. Of which there was plenty.

Three years later, his dad and I happily co-parent. We have family dinners and Nintendo nights once a week. Our son is funny, confident, has a million pets, and loves seeing us laugh together, as friends, not spouses.

I can pretty much guarantee you'll mess your kids up somehow, but not because of divorce. It'll be how you handle the divorce that shapes them.

You won't be fine.

You'll be better than fine. As Don Draper says, "it'll be scary how fine you'll be."

Not at first though.

In the beginning, it feels like the world is ending. You'll have dark moments where you wonder if you can do this. I've had them too. But as bad as life feels right now, it can turn equally as good six months later.

You just have to ride the wave. It's not calm, it's a tsunami. But when tsunamis recede, what's on the other side is a version of you you've never met, stronger, sharper, and deeply proud of what you survived.

You'll also be hotter because less stress equals the clearest skin of your life.

You become fearless.

Before divorce, your mind is full of "What will they think?". "They" being some imaginary person from high school or some random person on Instagram. But after? You stop caring.

You're in the supermarket, picking up pickles for your solo antipasto dinner, and it hits you: you're free. Yes, people talked at first. But the whispers fade, and then come the late-night DMs from people quietly saying, You inspired me.

You'll realise you didn't just survive something. You modelled courage for people who needed to see it.

PS: Some Random Perks Of Divorce Nobody Talks About Enough.

• Wine and cheese for dinner.

• The whole bed.

• A clean house.

• Not having to compromise on the thermostat

• Leaving parties when you want

• Buying whatever sheets you like

• No more justifying to friends and family why your ex can't make it to the function

• Not pretending to like their friends

• Reclaiming your weekend routine

• Sprawling diagonally on the couch

• No more "did you move my charger?" debates

• The first solo holiday that feels like a rom-com montage

• Rediscovering your personal scent

• Listening to sad music and realising it doesn't gut you anymore

• Flirting for sport

• Doing absolutely nothing without guilt (this is my favourite)

• Making your home look exactly how you want

• Building a bookshelf alone (and feeling smug about it)

• Watching whatever you want without commentary

• Learning how to decorate your new place how YOU like it

• Realising your peace is priceless

• Becoming hotter because you're finally sleeping properly

• That one glass of wine on a Friday night that tastes like independence

And finally, you'll still believe in love (you just read the fine print like a lawyer now).

You're not made of stone. You believed in love once; you can do it again.

Your idea of love changes. You probably (like many Australians) got married because you loved your ex but also because it felt like ticking a box, the one labelled "doing life right." But after divorce, you realise marriage is beautiful, just not essential.

There's the love that lasts a lifetime, and the love that lasts a long weekend. The love you feel for your best friend when she helps you move house in her pyjamas.

The love you feel for your ex (it's possible!) when they're being a good parent (and they cheer for you back when you nail it at #parentlife too).

And the love you finally feel for yourself when you realise you don't need to be chosen to be valuable. This love is indescribable. It's just like an inner glow.

Every divorced person I know has their own version of this story, a different beginning, same ending: they found themselves again.

Feature Image: Supplied.

Can you relate to Meghan's story? Share in the comments below.

Meghan McTavish is an Australian writer, creative strategist, and founder of The Plotline Journal. You can follow her for more on Instagram.