Grey Divorce: Why More Singaporean Couples Are Separating After 50
A client of mine — I’ll call her Mei-Ling — once told me, almost apologetically, “We didn’t even fight. We just ran out of things to say.” She and her husband had been married for over twenty-five years. Their two children were grown and settled overseas. The flat was paid off. By most external measures, they had done everything “right.” And yet she found herself, in her mid-fifties, sitting across from me trying to explain why a marriage with no obvious crisis had quietly come apart. Mei-Ling wasn’t unusual. She was, increasingly, representative of a real and growing pattern. A Real and Growing Trend, Not Just a Headline “Grey divorce” — separation later in life, often after decades of marriage — isn’t a fringe phenomenon anymore. In Singapore, the number of men over 60 getting divorced more than doubled between 2008 and 2018, and divorces among women over 60 saw a similarly sharp rise over the same period. The pattern shows up in the data on marriage duration too. By 2024, the median age at divorce in Singapore had climbed further, with couples generally divorcing after longer marriages than in previous decades. In other words: Singaporean couples aren’t divorcing because they rushed into marriage and rushed out. They’re divorcing after staying together longer — sometimes much longer — than couples a generation ago. This matters because it changes the emotional texture of the divorce itself. Grey divorce rarely involves the same dynamics as a younger couple’s split. There’s often no third party, no single dramatic betrayal, no obvious villain. Instead, there’s a slower, harder question: who are we to each other now, after everything has changed except the marriage? Why It’s Happening More Often Now A few intersecting shifts make later-life divorce more common in Singapore today than it was for our parents’ generation. Longer lives mean longer reconsiderations. Couples who married in their twenties or thirties now face the real possibility of another three or four decades together. A marriage that felt sufficient for raising a family doesn’t automatically feel sufficient for the next chapter, and increasingly, people are unwilling to spend those remaining decades in something that doesn’t. Children grow up and leave home. For many couples, parenting has been the shared project holding day-to-day life together. When that project winds down, some couples rediscover each other — and some discover, often gently and without malice, that they’d stopped being partners and had simply been co-managers of a household. Social attitudes have genuinely shifted. Divorce later in life carries far less stigma in Singapore today than it did even fifteen years ago. Adult children are often supportive rather than scandalised, sometimes actively encouraging a parent toward a happier individual life rather than continued unhappiness for the sake of appearances. Women, in particular, are more financially independent. A spouse — often the wife — who might once have felt unable to leave a marriage for financial reasons increasingly has the means, the career history, and the social permission to choose differently. What was tolerated “for the children” stops being tolerable once they’ve left. I often see this with dynamics that were quietly endured for years — emotional or physical abuse, infidelity, or simply patriarchal patterns like one spouse never sharing the housework or caregiving load. Many of my clients held the marriage together specifically until the children were grown, treating that as a finish line rather than a permanent arrangement. Once the children leave home, the original reason for staying no longer applies, and what was once tolerated can suddenly feel impossible to continue accepting. Perimenopause can sharpen this shift. For women, the hormonal changes of perimenopause — including falling oestrogen levels — often coincide with this same life stage, and can intensify emotional clarity and reduce tolerance for dynamics that no longer serve them. This isn’t “hormones causing divorce” so much as a biological transition that often strips away some of the patience or self-silencing a woman may have relied on for years, making long-standing dissatisfaction harder to keep suppressing. The Emotional Work Is Different at This Stage In therapy, grey divorce tends to surface a few distinct themes that look different from divorce earlier in life. Grief without a villain. It’s often genuinely hard for clients to articulate what went wrong, because nothing dramatic did. The grief is real, but it’s diffuse — mourning decades of shared life and an imagined future, not recovering from a single wound. Identity, after being “someone’s spouse” for so long. When a marriage has defined most of your adult life, divorce raises an unsettling question: who am I outside this role? This is especially pronounced for those who built their daily rhythms, social circles, and even sense of purpose around the marriage and family. Navigating adult children’s reactions. Even supportive adult children can carry their own complicated grief, or quietly worry about which parent needs more looking after. Older clients often need support not just for themselves, but in figuring out how to communicate with children who are now adults forming their own opinions about the marriage’s history. A practical, but real, financial recalibration. Longer marriages typically mean more entangled finances — property, CPF savings, investments, sometimes a family business — and untangling these later in life leaves less runway before retirement than it would for a younger couple. I’m not a lawyer or financial advisor, and these conversations belong with the right professionals — but the emotional weight of this recalibration is very much part of the therapeutic work, particularly for a spouse who stepped back from full-time work to raise children. What Healthy Grey Divorce Can Look Like Not every late-life divorce needs to be acrimonious, and many of my clients are surprised by how much repair is possible even while the marriage itself ends. This often means therapy that isn’t really “couples therapy” in the traditional sense — not aimed at saving the marriage, but at helping both people separate with honesty, dignity, and as little lasting damage as possible to their adult children and their own
Burnout in Singapore: Why High Achievers Crash and How to Recover
A client of mine — I’ll call her Mei — once described her week to me like this: up at 6am to get the kids ready, back-to-back meetings from 8, home by 7:30 to put the kids to bed, then an hour of her own screen time before collapsing into sleep around 11. She told me this matter-of-factly, almost proudly, the way you’d describe a system you’d engineered well. It was only when I asked her when she’d last done something purely for herself — not for her kids, not for her team, not for her career — that she went quiet. And then, unexpectedly, she started to cry. She was, by every external measure, thriving. But she felt the strain constantly, and simply hadn’t let herself give into it — not until that moment in my office. This is what burnout actually looks like in Singapore, and it rarely looks like collapse. It looks like Mei — competent, composed, and slowly running on empty. Burnout Isn’t Laziness, and It Isn’t Weakness Burnout is often misunderstood as simply being “very tired.” It’s not. It’s a specific psychological state that develops after prolonged exposure to stress without adequate recovery — and it shows up in three recognisable ways: Exhaustion that doesn’t lift with rest. A weekend off, even a holiday, doesn’t fully restore you the way it used to. Growing cynicism or detachment. Work that once felt meaningful starts to feel pointless, or you find yourself emotionally checked out from colleagues, clients, even family. A drop in your own sense of effectiveness. Despite working harder, you feel like you’re achieving less — and you start to doubt your own competence. None of this is a character flaw. It’s a predictable response to a workload and environment that has outpaced a person’s capacity to recover. Why Singapore Makes High Achievers Especially Vulnerable Singapore’s pace of life isn’t unique in being demanding — but a few local realities make burnout particularly common among the high-achieving professionals, business owners, and parents I see in my practice. The “always-on” culture. WhatsApp doesn’t recognise office hours. Many of my clients in finance, law, tech, and consulting tell me their phone is the last thing they check before sleep and the first thing they check on waking — often because that’s simply what’s expected of them, implicitly or explicitly. Comparison is constant and visible. In a small, dense, highly networked society, it’s hard not to know exactly how your peers, your cohort from school, or your industry counterparts are doing. That visibility quietly fuels the belief that slowing down means falling behind. Achievement is often the main source of identity. For many high performers — and this is especially true of people who’ve built their own businesses or risen quickly into leadership — self-worth becomes tightly fused with output. Rest can start to feel like it has to be earned, which means it rarely happens until the body forces the issue. There’s often no one to hand things off to. Business owners and senior leaders frequently carry decisions that genuinely cannot be delegated. The exhaustion is real, not imagined — and “just take a break” isn’t always practical advice. The Hidden Sources of Burnout No One Talks About Most discussions of burnout stop at “too much work, not enough rest.” In my practice, I see three deeper currents underneath the exhaustion — and they’re rarely named, which is exactly why they go unaddressed. We’re tribal creatures, and disconnection at work registers as exile. Evolutionary psychology is fairly blunt about this: for most of human history, being cast out of your tribe was a survival threat, not just a social inconvenience. That wiring hasn’t gone anywhere. When you don’t feel like your team or organisation genuinely has your back — when it feels transactional, political, or every person for themselves — some old, deep part of the nervous system reads that as danger. You can be surrounded by colleagues all day and still feel, physiologically, alone. That low-grade sense of not belonging is exhausting in a way that has nothing to do with hours worked. Meaninglessness is its own kind of depletion. It’s entirely possible to be busy, capable, and well-compensated, and still feel burnt out because the work itself doesn’t feel like it matters. I see this often in clients who are excellent at their jobs but privately wonder what any of it is actually for. Effort without a sense of purpose drains people far faster than effort connected to something they believe in — yet because the work “looks” worthwhile from the outside, this particular exhaustion is easy to dismiss, including by the person feeling it. There’s no time or money left over to care for yourself. This one is rarely spoken aloud, especially among high earners, because it sounds like it shouldn’t apply to them. But burnout isn’t just about hours at a desk — it’s about what’s left after work for the things that actually replenish a person. Exercise, therapy, hobbies, unstructured time, even sleep, all cost either money or time, often both. When every spare hour goes to children, ageing parents, or simply collapsing in front of a screen, and every spare dollar is earmarked for school fees or savings, self-care quietly drops off the list — not from a lack of willpower, but from a genuine absence of margin. These three forces — exile from the tribe, absence of meaning, and lack of margin — often matter more than raw workload in determining who burns out and who doesn’t. How Burnout Recovery Actually Works Genuine recovery from burnout is rarely just about taking leave, though rest matters. In therapy, the work usually involves a few connected threads: Naming what’s actually happening. Many high achievers have normalised their exhaustion for so long that simply having a clinician confirm “this is burnout, and it’s serious” is itself clarifying and validating. Rebuilding a sense of belonging, even if the workplace itself doesn’t change. Seeking a workplace where your team feels more genuine and connected can often
Living with Dissociative Identity Disorder
Imagine waking up each morning uncertain of who will greet you in the mirror. Your memories flicker and fade, with different parts of you holding fort in different parts of your life. Inside your mind, different voices jostle for space, each with their own desires and fears. This is the reality for those living with Dissociative Identity Disorder, a misunderstood and often sensationalised condition. What is Dissociative Identity Disorder Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is a mental health condition where you have two or more separate identities that are dissociated – separated or disconnected – with each other. Affecting 1.5 percent of the global population, Dissociative Identity Disorder used to be called Multiple Personality Disorder, or Split Personality Disorder, which is perhaps a better way of describing the challenges it presents. Although Dissociative Identity Disorder is still not widely understood in Singapore, I have worked with a number of clients here who live with it, and I’ve seen a slowly growing awareness of DID-informed therapy within the local mental health community. People with Dissociative Identity Disorder may experience several different personalities, usually referred to as alters. Many describe their alters as distinct individuals who live inside their mind. These alters might have different names, personalities, and even likes and dislikes. These alters can sometimes take over, leaving the person with memory gaps (amnesia) that go way beyond normal forgetfulness. The presence of amnesia is often an important symptom that leads the to the eventual diagnosis. The personalities are often quite different from each other, with some being male, and others female. The personalities are also diverse in that one may be outgoing and brave, and another traumatised, and wanting to stay safe at home. They will speak in a different tone, use different body language, and even have different behaviours, memories, thought patterns or expressions. DID is widely portrayed in movies, but not often accurately. Dramatic stereotyping can hurt. As one Reddit user put it, “People think I’m supposed to be a villain or have superpowers because that’s what they’ve seen in movies. In reality, I’m just struggling to live my life like everyone else.” The following is a client, James’ (not his real name) take on what life with Dissociative Identity Disorder is really like. “Although I am the one who is around most of the time, my alters tend to take control of the body from time to time. This is not an automatic switch – my head begins to hurt just as this starts to happen.” James describes being sometimes aware that an alter has taken over, and able to look and listen in on their interactions. Other times, he feels cut off, and completely disconnected from his body and from the other alters. His mannerisms change, his voice change, and even his likes and dislikes change with this occurrence. He is sometimes aware of other alters in the background of his mind – they play, interact, fight, make jokes. At other times, his mind goes silent and its hard to communicate with them. Someone on a forum explained it like this: “My brain feels like a house with a bunch of rooms, each room belonging to someone different. Sometimes, I can’t open certain doors, and other times, one of the ‘owners’ takes over while I watch from the sidelines.” Origins of Dissociative Identity Disorder These alters aren’t random—they usually exist for a reason, and in response to unendurably painful experiences. Almost overwhelmingly, DID is the product of trauma, and should be seen through that lens. Most of my clients with DID report childhood histories of severe physical abuse, parental neglect, abandonment, and sexual abuse. In its essence, DID is the creative way the mind copes when severe trauma makes it necessary to block memories, and prioritize functioning. The Weirdness of Lost Time A big part of Dissociative Identity Disorder is the struggle with memory gaps, often called “lost time.” Many people share stories of losing chunks of their day or waking up somewhere new without knowing how they got there. One post on social media detailed, “I woke up on a bus heading to a city I’d never been to before. I had no clue how I got there or why I was going. Later, I found a notebook in my bag with handwriting that wasn’t mine—it was from one of my alters.” A client described a similar situation. After three years of staying largely at home during Covid, he enrolled in a course to further his education and push himself to overcome his very intense fears around his safety outside of his house. One day, he remembered waking up, getting dressed, and walking to the bus stop to make it to school on time. What seemed like just moments later, he found himself in bed, playing computer games and eating snacks. Looking at the clock, it became apparent that he had missed most of his day. Unbeknownst to him, a more fearful, traumatised alter with memories of being abused had taken over while he was at the bus stop, and walked him home where they thought he would be safest from dangerous others. Relationships Can Get Tricky Making things harder is the fact that alters don’t always see people the same way—the main personality might trust someone, while an alter doesn’t, leading to mixed feelings or unpredictable reactions. In my own therapy, I’ve had clients present looking for therapy, only to have an alter cancel the next week because they are mistrustful of me. I’ve had to initiate conversations with willing alters in the first few sessions, just so they have a chance to ask me their own questions separately, and build trust individually One blogger shared, “My partner thinks I completely changed overnight, but I haven’t. I’m trying to explain to her that one of my alters doesn’t trust her, even though I do. It’s like an internal tug-of-war.” Its hard to stay in relationship in this situation, but I’ve heard enough positive stories to
PSLE Anxiety: Taming the Beast
Walking through a leafy park in Singapore last week, I noticed a child sitting alone, his face buried in a book while a younger sibling played more freely on a swing set…
Finding the Best Psychologist in Singapore
So many people now understand the power of therapy. Everywhere you look (especially on social media!), people are talking about their therapy journey, and what it meant to them to seek help…
Understanding Post Partum Depression
Welcoming a new baby into the world is often assumed to be a time of pure joy and celebration. Yet, for many parents, it is anything but. While often dismissed just as the “baby blues,”…
How trauma informed practice can make a difference in schools
In my last blog post, I talked about how trauma awareness is critical for health care professions, not just those in the field of mental health…
Why more of us need to learn about trauma
I am writing today about my favourite topics: Trauma and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Trauma is an event in which you or a loved one is in significant danger…
The psychological tolls of ageing
We live in a youth-obsessed society. One of denial and the widespread devaluing of the old. While some dabble with cosmetic procedures, youthful haircuts or trendy clothes, others proclaim the virtues…
Talk so your teenagers will listen!
Teenagers are hard. It’s often so clear to parents how much they don’t know, and how massive their potential is for messing up important life changing choices…