10 Seconds That Ended My 20 Years Marriage
It is an August evening in Northern Virginia that is extremely hot. I’m wearing my typical stay-at-home mom attire—baggy Marine Corps sweats, a t-shirt, Crocs, and a ponytail—and haven’t showered since my morning trail run. My comfort zone is this attire since it conceals my physical issues and gives me a fleeting sense of acceptance.
I dress like this to ward off self-doubt and trick myself into thinking I’m trying. It’s an effort on my part to prove that I’m not just lazy. It’s a look that, in spite of my lack of style or cosmetics, says, “I’m trying.” It falls somewhere between passable and merely presentable.
My spouse has started having sex with me once a month just based on this appearance so far; it’s a duty-driven physical relationship rather than one motivated by passion. This kind of intercourse makes us both aware of our responsibilities rather than our excitement.
I’m cutting onions and tomatoes when he comes in tonight with a platter of piping hot hamburgers. There seems to be a problem. Since I’m the one who always initiates conversation, I walk up to him, give him a hug, and inquire as to how things are doing.
I’m aware of what’s about to happen. I simply am unaware of the specifics. Can this be rectified? Can I make things right once more? It has the feel of a tire with a gradual leak that is only temporarily fixed before it is too late.
“I told myself I’d tell you if you asked,” he finally says in admission. A woman from my past is there. During our journey to San Diego, we got back in touch. Although I didn’t expect she would be interested, she gives me life.”
I start to panic. This embarrassed, frantic yearning to make things right is a feeling I detest. I implore him to stick around, to work on our union, and to allow me to put things right. I’m upset and embarrassed of myself for allowing things to get to this point.
Fear was the foundation of our marriage and kept it that way for twenty years. He evaded his dread of disappointing his dying mother and granted her dream for grandkids when he made the proposal. It was my opportunity to start the family I had always wanted to have since my father abandoned us many years ago. Adventure and stability were promised when I married a Marine, but now it feels like a tarnished, hefty medal around my neck.
He reacts to my pleading with rage and contempt.
I am possessed by the cold hamburgers sitting on the counter, remnants of an abandoned supper plan. There is a noticeable resentment in our house. I just wanted to get through the evening with some sort of normalcy, ignore the fury.
However, we skip the burgers.
Friends, family, and even the children have seen through the gap in the façade to the reality that lies under my tattered, gleaming medal. It was an illusion.
