Sometimes I have a wash of heat and stress come over my whole body and then I let out a deep, quavering sigh as I watch my money disappear. I tell myself for the hundredth time that it’s just money. But then at the same time, it’s MONEY. It’s kind of a big deal. Especially if you are living month to month. Especially if you have been trying and failing to figure out where you are going wrong, over and over again, and why you can’t seem to keep any of it where you want it. Especially when you started out strong and brave and so sure, and ended up … here. Losing it. Failing and grasping for something to keep your head from lilting in self loathing yet again. Especially when, at the end of the month you are hot and shaky, with little butterflies rising up in your belly, and willing so hard for that next payday to somehow magically come a day or two earlier than you know it will.
I’ve been married 8 years. I have a 1 year old. And I’m in the early stages of a divorce.
There are so many reasons why it must happen, and so many guilts and wonders and questions and fears that go along with that fact. While at the same time, I have such a sense of relief. It's a strange balancing act.
A divorce from a husband who is just now getting personality and/or mental disorders ascertained and treated makes it doubly hard. For many years of our marriage, he didn’t have a job. Being the person I am, I made light of this and made sure he didn’t feel bad for not working. I tried to make sure he felt he could take as much time as he needed to go to school, or just not do anything at all, so he could manage his stress and depression. Many many months would often pass where he wasn’t doing anything but some errands and work around the apartment. Many of those days were actually spent playing video games, sleeping in … while every Monday through Friday I was up getting ready for work. Unless I was sick or on a rare and too-short vacation, I was at work. For the entire 8 years of our marriage. And I told myself time and time again that I was OK with being the sole breadwinner. I was OK supporting my husband in this way so that he could … something. I don’t even know what that something is at this point. So he could … find himself? So he could have time to write the book he’s been threatening to write for a decade? So he could go to school in order to get a (better) job? I honestly don’t even know. I feel that I was so generous with my grace and my time and my energy with him. But I see now that I was lying to both of us.
I lied to myself because I wanted to keep the peace.
I lied to him because I wanted to keep the peace.
I wanted to show him I was supportive, caring, loyal. But hindsight is painfully clear; I was living my life in a lie. I was walking on egg shells every day because I was afraid. I didn’t want to admit I was afraid, so I bucked up and I was the strong (but losing my grip), dedicated (but faltering), confident (but secretly suppressing my conscience) wife who couldn’t say or do anything off kilter, who couldn’t be selfish with the big stuff, who couldn’t say the real, hard truths that must be said in a marriage of longevity and worth.
Because I was afraid. I was so afraid of his temper, his sensitivity to my “demands”. I don’t even know what else had me so hamstrung, but I sat by for so many years afraid to take action, to even be able to enjoy my own life. Because of him. I know there is no malice from him; I know he doesn’t like this truth any more than I do. But I also know that he carries much of the responsibility for it.
He ignored my kindly crafted statements about needing more money to support our life and our future, needing to know he was “with me” on whatever the issue - moral, ethical, financial, etc. He ignored all my concerns year after year. He thought sitting by and just existing together, going to movies on the weekends, finding new restaurants and watching new TV shows together was enough. He simply didn’t try. Not even in the beginning. And in my euphoria and my rush of teenage confidence stupidity, I ignored that reality. I ignored it so successfully for 8 years that I didn’t even see it coming when the massive wave of pent up hurts, anger, frustration and fear rose up and nearly drowned me. One day it just all came back and I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I think it was God’s way of crafting a comeback into my life. Something epic and dramatic and mind jolting to get me to see the extend of my drift away from Him.
I had drifted for so many years away from a faith in which I previously had total confidence. I had drifted away from God, from my family, from my friends, from the core beliefs I knew were true for me, so that I could have a relationship with my husband. It’s a long story and one I tire of even thinking about, let along typing. But here I sit at the end of this journey … or the beginning of a new one … or both. It’s all so very overwhelming. I wonder how every other person who is divorced with a child has managed to get through the crushing pain and guilt; the late night talks with your soon to be ex; the bitterness and the realization that you are just now beginning to communicate with your spouse because you no longer have anything to lose. And the little whiff of doubt that sometimes creeps in: Should I stay? Should I try yet again to salvage this?
My marriage has been a practice in trying. I look back and realize, as I lambast myself for not being better at this whole marriage thing, that I DID try, I DID talk and ask for and request and tell him when I needed him to be or do something for me – for our marriage. So we wouldn't get here. I DID do those things. And they fell on deaf ears. On ears unwilling to hear and a heart unwilling to change.
You can only invest so much, and watch it go to waste, trickle away over the years with no return, no increase, until you just can’t anymore. It has to stop. You have to take your energy, time, love, effort, loyalty … and place it somewhere else. Another bank, another account, maybe even a jar buried in your backyard. Anything would be better than the current wasteland.
And so here I sit, aching with uncertainty and struggling with all the questions:
How do I proceed? What is the next step? How do I move on from here? What will my life look like in a year, or 2 or 5? Will I have more children? Will I have another relationship? Will I ever get married again? Will my ex be a gracious co-parent to our beautiful son? Will my ex find peace? Will he stop blaming me for his depression and his lack of purpose? Please God, will he stop blaming me? Will he have a renewed mind with peace and positivity or will the rest of my life be shadowed by his negative outlook? Will my son be OK?
Will my son be OK?
I think of what I will tell him if (when) he asks why I’m not with his dad. I try to make it sound logical. I know it is logical but there is that constant questioning and self doubt. I can’t quite jump that hurdle yet; not at this stage. I think I’ll tell him that I tried so long to make it work. We had good times, we had love and happiness. But ultimately some relationships aren’t destined to work. That this one wasn’t working. And that happiness, my walk with God, and my financial and emotional stability won out. I hope he sees me model happiness as a person, as a mother. And that one day he will understand why it meant the end of my marriage.
And so here I sit with my emotional and financial banks depleted. Wondering when they will see stability again.
Maybe in a couple years this all won’t seem so bad.
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