“Say something, I’m giving up on you.” This haunting line from A Great Big World has been playing in my mind this weekend as I approach a breaking point in my marriage. After a challenging separation, I had a brief moment where my husband seemed committed to addressing the behaviors and decisions that have been eroding our relationship. We even attended a session with his doctor together.
While I won’t delve into the specifics, it’s clear that I am not blameless, but he is single-handedly steering our ship toward disaster. I’m in survival mode, focused on protecting myself and our children.
When I reach out to my support network for help, some well-meaning phrases can really miss the mark.
“You’re leaving a bad relationship to make way for a better one.”
Please, stop. I understand your intention is to uplift me, but these words invalidate the depth of my heartbreak. I’m not looking for a shiny new relationship; I want my husband to get his act together and stop dismantling our family. I yearn for the days when our challenges were manageable and our love was intact. I miss the man he used to be before substance abuse and untreated mental health issues took their toll. Please refrain from insinuating that perhaps he was always this way or that something better awaits me.
My husband was part of the future I envisioned, and I’m grappling with the realization that that future is no longer attainable. I’m not ready to face anything beyond that.
“You deserve so much better than him.”
To this, I could easily respond, “No! I deserve for him to respect and love me enough to prevent all of this.” Why is it that so many supportive comments for women navigating divorce fixate on the potential of another man swooping in to offer love? Even my grandfather once suggested that a woman never leaves a marriage without another man waiting in the wings. Well, that’s simply not true, because I am that woman.
Choosing to divorce my husband is not an easy decision. It doesn’t imply that I have someone else lined up or that I harbor hatred towards him. I love him deeply, and even contemplating this step brings me pain I never anticipated. I look at our newborn each night and whisper apologies. I stifle tears in the bathroom to spare my older kids the heartbreak of asking, “Where’s Daddy?”
My decision to divorce is about self-preservation and shielding my children. My well-being matters too, and my children deserve to witness healthy relationships. As divorced father Ryan Clarke expressed in a recent article, “I was desperate to protect them from the trauma of another divorce. As a result, I kept the family in a situation that wasn’t good for any of us. The truth is, the worst thing for your children is to endure a hostile home and see you unhappy.”
“Have you tried [blank]?”
Yes, yes, and yes. Why is it that the one initiating the divorce is constantly questioned as if I suddenly decided that communication and working through issues was too burdensome? This decision is not spontaneous; it comes after years of strife and watching small issues escalate into significant problems. I’ve tried everything within my power to mend things, but I don’t owe anyone a detailed account of those efforts.
Ultimately, I cannot maintain a marriage when my partner refuses to contribute. My relationship feels like tossing a lifeline to my drowning husband, only for him to reject it. Am I supposed to jump in and drown alongside him?
Listen to the heartbreak in my voice. Hear my sorrow, anger, and frustration. Recognize the tears I’ve already shed, and for the love of everything, please have faith in my decision and stop asking if I’ve tried whatever has worked for others. Trust me, I didn’t arrive at this conclusion lightly. Let me come to terms with the fact that the ball hasn’t been in my court for a while.
Dear friend, sister, or mother, I appreciate your good intentions. The situation is unbearable, and your support makes me feel less isolated. Just be there for me. You don’t need to find the perfect words or solutions. Just hold space for my pain.