Why Agreeing a Consent Order Was the Best Decision I Made After My Divorce

When my marriage ended, I thought the hard part was over. We'd agreed to separate, we were both trying to keep things steady for the kids, and we weren’t shouting across doorways or arguing about school shoes. But once the dust settled, the bigger question arrived: What happens next? How do we actually sort the financial side of things without dragging it out?

I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure about getting a consent order at first. I’d heard bits about it online, but it sounded technical and expensive. Part of me hoped we could just shake hands, agree what felt fair and move on. But a quiet voice in the back of my mind kept saying, “What if one of you changes your mind later?”

That’s how I ended up in divorce mediation. And looking back, it’s one of the best decisions I made, right up there with getting that consent order signed.

Our relationship breakdown was mixed. Some days we were calm and organised; other days we’d hit a nerve without meaning to. But sitting with a mediator in our first joint session felt surprisingly grounding.

We had several meetings, and each one untangled a bit more of the knot. The house was the biggest topic (emotionally and financially). We'd spent years turning it from a run-down place into a proper family home. Letting go of it wasn’t easy.

There was a moment in one session when the mediator asked us both what we wanted life to look like in five years. I remember glancing at my ex. She looked exhausted. I probably did too. But something clicked: we both wanted the same thing, stability for the kids and clarity for ourselves.

That’s when the mediator gently explained how a financial settlement works, and what the courts look at when deciding if something is fair. They explained about marital law, not in a heavy legal way, but enough for me to understand that fairness isn’t about winning. It’s about needs, responsibilities, contributions and the future. I realised then that our agreement needed to be not just “fair for now”, but fair in a way a judge would recognise if it ever needed to be reviewed.

I kept circling back to the same thought: “I just want certainty.” Not more arguments. Not any surprise claims in ten years. Not a situation where I’m second-guessing every financial decision because nothing is formally closed.

The mediator didn’t push us. They didn’t tell us what to do. They just helped us talk (properly talk) and understand what our options actually were. One thing the mediator said really stuck with me:

“An informal agreement is only as strong as the goodwill that supports it.”

We had goodwill… but we also had two children, a house, pensions, and years of shared financial history. Goodwill wasn’t enough.

That’s when I changed my mind about the consent order. I wanted something legally binding. Something future-proof. Something that would let both of us draw a line under the financial side of the marriage.

When the time came to draft the paperwork, I used guides from The Divorce Circle to make sense of it all. I remember the first time I logged in to upload the documents, sitting at my kitchen table, coffee in hand, staring at the screen as if it might explode. It didn’t. It was just forms, normal-looking forms, asking normal questions. But hitting “submit” felt strangely emotional. Like sending off a chapter of my life for printing.

It wasn’t dramatic. I didn’t cry. I just exhaled for what felt like the first time in months.

Here’s what I learned, and what I wish I’d known earlier.

A consent order isn’t about trust or mistrust. It’s about clarity. It’s about the future you haven’t lived yet.

For me, it meant:

• The house agreement couldn’t be reopened later.
• Our decisions about the kids’ financial arrangements were clearly recorded.
• My pension wouldn't become a question mark in the future.
• We each knew exactly where we stood.

The moment the court approved it, everything felt lighter. Not perfect (divorce rarely feels perfect) but clear. And clarity is underrated.

These are small things, but they helped me:

1. Use mediation early.

If you’re stuck on money, the conversation won’t magically get easier. Mediation gave us structure, and structure kept things calmer.

2. Ask the “five years ahead” question.

It’s amazing how much this cuts through emotion and worry.

3. Read up on fairness.

Understanding how courts view things helped me see our finances as a whole picture, not a tug-of-war.

4. Don’t fear the paperwork.

If I can do it, trust me, anyone can. And having something legally binding is worth every minute.

5. Get a consent order even if things feel amicable.

I can’t stress this enough. Informal agreements leave too much uncertainty.

Finalising the financial side of the divorce gave me something I didn’t realise I needed: permission to move forward.

Not out of bitterness. Not in a rush.

Just… forward.

I kept the focus on what mattered, the kids, our routines, and building the next version of my life. And because we sorted things properly, we’ve been able to co-parent with far less tension than many people I speak to.

Note: This story is based on real experience. We have used AI to help structure the piece. The final version is checked and added by a human.