The Question That Ended My Marriage
I asked my husband a question in an infrequently occurring, carefree moment that I knew would set off our divorce.
Our marriage had descended into a routine of apathy, with little intimacy and less passion. Nevertheless, I held onto hope and our common goals in spite of the breakup, thinking that we might turn our required relationship into a rewarding collaboration and have a happy family. We went to marriage counseling twice, believing that getting outside assistance would help us overcome our emotional distance.
After just one session, our first attempt proved to be unsuccessful. The therapist did not appear to be interested in our special history, which started with an unintended pregnancy. Upon hearing the question, “What made you two fall in love?” my spouse and I silently agreed that this was not the way we should go.
We attempted a second therapist, who at first sounded promising, not to be deterred. However, this endeavor came to a sudden halt when my spouse said he received advice from the therapist to “leave her if her behavior doesn’t change.” Regardless of its veracity, the takeaway was unmistakable: even if the therapist’s counsel was sincere, it was immoral and misplaced. If my spouse was lying, it would have been just another attempt to control and harm me.
The fissures in our marriage were getting wider by then. We went back to Northern California from Virginia when our kid was four years old, expecting that being in a familiar place would help our connection. My 38th birthday even included a family cruise to Alaska, however it was a miserable trip. My spouse and I diverted our activities while on board, leaving me to either handle a boisterous four-year-old or go on solo explorations of breathtaking scenery.
Our relationship did not get much better despite the amazing beauty of nature. Despite my admiration for orcas hunting and glaciers calving, I was deeply lonely and needed alone to get by. One thing the cruise and move had done for me was clear my head so I could strive harder and get more aid.
I asked my in-laws for guidance and made an effort to be the wife my husband’s mother had always wanted for him.
My training in counseling psychology at this period shed light on my personal battles with personality problems and childhood trauma. To deal with these challenges, I went to individual treatment, finished my graduate degree while becoming a stay-at-home mother, and even became pregnant with our second kid. In spite of these endeavors, my spouse continued to shun the cold.
My research showed that because of his avoidant attachment style, he had trouble with empathy, trust, and emotional intimacy. I was left to deal with my own inner pain and the abandonment dread that was affecting my mental well-being as a result.
My own nightmare of the next two and a half years was made worse by my work with individuals who were overcoming their own traumatic traumas. I had the impression that I was stuck on a crazy, never-ending roller coaster, with increasing suffering at each turn. I took to numbing myself with drugs, disregarding my husband’s emotional neglect, and concentrating on my kids and clients as coping mechanisms.
Paradoxically, the lockout in March 2020 turned out to be a weird comfort. My creative endeavors and little deeds of defiance offered me comfort and let me release some of my innermost secrets.
Our relationship was like a misfit canoe—we were stuck together at home, juggling childcare and remote work. Our disagreement brought to light how out of step we were. One heated disagreement set up my old emotional chaotic habits. I had an epiphany as my spouse retreated to our child’s safety. I was totally alert, all of my senses sharpened.
I went up to my spouse, who was sat with our son, in a state of pure panic. I questioned with a mixture of anxiety and composure, “Counseling… or… mediation…”
Without taking his eyes off the TV, he answered simply, “Mediation.”
I realized then and there that our marriage could never be saved. We would never be able to heal our connection in the future. We were about to get divorced and had to adjust to living apart, having different schedules, and not knowing what the future held.
I just muttered, “Okay,” and turned to face the raging tempest of feelings inside of me.
