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Partners
Also read part One, Two, Three and Four.
The problem with finding something that makes you happy is that it highlights the things that make you unhappy and makes it almost impossible for you to tolerate them.
This is how I started to feel about my marriage. I lived for the days I was able to go dancing, and at home I could not breathe unless my husband was away.
At this point I do feel that it is vital to point out that my now ex-husband is not and was not a bad person. We were simply a bad couple. I think a lot of people struggle to understand that concept. Two good people can make a bad combination and when relationships fail it is far too easy to use that failure as a reason to point fingers and make judgements.
My ex is and was a good person. We were just bad for each other.
I got drunk at a dancing function one night. Up until that point I had only ever been drunk once. A guy I met there (who was gay and delightfully flirtatious – I love flirting!) decided it was time to hand out shooters. Shooters are small. Drinking six should be fine. Right?
Wrong! It was not fine.
All I can remember was falling on to the lap of my future baby daddy, stroking his face and saying “I have such a crush on you. I have such a crush on you.” He sat there mortified, and amused. But mostly mortified.
A little while later at a salsa night where I was dancing with a bunch of dance friends as well as other friends, I got drunk (again!) and laughingly (as if it was funny!) confessed to another friend that I had fallen for someone who wasn’t my husband. She hugged me but said nothing.
Soon after that I realized it was time to make a real decision. I tried to talk to my husband and get him to acknowledge our incompatibility. He would ignore me and refuse to speak. There was no fixing anything. I could certainly not fix anything by myself.
So I started making plans to move out. One of the guys I worked with was looking to move out of his folks place, and so was my future baby daddy. I knew it was a bad idea, but at that point I couldn’t have cared less. The tension between us was insane and I knew it would eventually go somewhere, but I needed to get the hell out of my house and this was my solution.
At that point it was supposed to be a trial separation. I kind of knew I was done though. It was sort of like I had used the last two years of our marriage to get over him. That sounds incredibly mean. I wasn’t ready to leave him before, but now that I was ready to leave, the heartache was kind of minimal.
None of it felt nearly as bad as it had when I was sitting on my mom’s kitchen floor bawling my eyes out and demanding to know why this man had bothered to marry me if he had no desire to even try to keep me. I had become numb within the confines or our relationship, but outside of it I had become an exuberant rainbow.
He tried to get me to stay. That part was hard because he was genuinely upset. He made promises and said the things that I had longed for him to say throughout our entire relationship. But he said them all too late.
Within weeks he met someone new (who he ended up dating for almost as long as we were married) and although there was a slight pinch of jealousy, I did feel happy for him. I must admit that the “happy for him” might have had a lot to do with easing my own guilt though.
I settled quickly into my new home. I was 25 years old living in a dodgy neighbourhood. I had no car, no money and two boyish as hell roommates. I felt like I was 18. I didn’t pursue divorce in a hurry, but eventually my crush confessed that he desperately wanted me to properly divorce my husband because he couldn’t stand it anymore. So I phoned a lawyer.
Unfortunately, my crush suffered for my divorce. He got anonymous texts accusing him of being a home wrecker. Students were rude to him. A fellow teacher was incredibly nasty to both of us. Even though the separation wasn’t too messy for my husband and I (we shared a lawyer and fought about absolutely nothing) there was a lot of studio drama that my crush and I had to contend with.
It was ok though, because even though work had temporarily become a trying environment, I would go home at the end of the day and I would lie down on my bed in my room surrounded by only my things and all I could feel was happy. All the stuff I had missed out on because I had been married so young was suddenly at my feet.
Lying on that bed, staring at the ceiling and not having a single clue where my next meal was coming from was without a doubt the best gift I ever gave myself.
I have made a thousand mistakes since I left my husband. I have gone through some pretty serious hells. More happened in the year following my divorce than happened during my entire five years of marriage. An unplanned pregnancy. A violent fall-out with the boss who I loved like a sister. A premature birth. A lot of tears.
My crush finally broke my heart worse than it has ever been broken.
But you know what?
Every last second of it was worth it.
You often hear people saying that marriages today don’t work because people give up too easily. I get that, I guess. But I can’t help being glad that I gave up. We could have stayed married out of obligation and continued with a mediocre life, but we didn’t. We mustered up our courage and admitted that we had made a mistake. And both of us get to be happier because of it. I think that is more important than forcing a failing marriage to be successful.
Today I am married to the most wonderful man I know (he is absolutely nothing like me!) and it fills me with peace to know that I am here because I want to be here. I am no longer afraid of being alone. I know I can do it. In fact, I even know that I really like it. So I am here, in this house, with this family, because I want to be. Because I love him. And for now that is enough.
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The problem with finding something that makes you happy is that it highlights the things that make you unhappy and makes it almost impossible for you to tolerate them.
This is how I started to feel about my marriage. I lived for the days I was able to go dancing, and at home I could not breathe unless my husband was away.
At this point I do feel that it is vital to point out that my now ex-husband is not and was not a bad person. We were simply a bad couple. I think a lot of people struggle to understand that concept. Two good people can make a bad combination and when relationships fail it is far too easy to use that failure as a reason to point fingers and make judgements.
My ex is and was a good person. We were just bad for each other.
I got drunk at a dancing function one night. Up until that point I had only ever been drunk once. A guy I met there (who was gay and delightfully flirtatious – I love flirting!) decided it was time to hand out shooters. Shooters are small. Drinking six should be fine. Right?
Wrong! It was not fine.
All I can remember was falling on to the lap of my future baby daddy, stroking his face and saying “I have such a crush on you. I have such a crush on you.” He sat there mortified, and amused. But mostly mortified.
A little while later at a salsa night where I was dancing with a bunch of dance friends as well as other friends, I got drunk (again!) and laughingly (as if it was funny!) confessed to another friend that I had fallen for someone who wasn’t my husband. She hugged me but said nothing.
Soon after that I realized it was time to make a real decision. I tried to talk to my husband and get him to acknowledge our incompatibility. He would ignore me and refuse to speak. There was no fixing anything. I could certainly not fix anything by myself.
So I started making plans to move out. One of the guys I worked with was looking to move out of his folks place, and so was my future baby daddy. I knew it was a bad idea, but at that point I couldn’t have cared less. The tension between us was insane and I knew it would eventually go somewhere, but I needed to get the hell out of my house and this was my solution.
At that point it was supposed to be a trial separation. I kind of knew I was done though. It was sort of like I had used the last two years of our marriage to get over him. That sounds incredibly mean. I wasn’t ready to leave him before, but now that I was ready to leave, the heartache was kind of minimal.
None of it felt nearly as bad as it had when I was sitting on my mom’s kitchen floor bawling my eyes out and demanding to know why this man had bothered to marry me if he had no desire to even try to keep me. I had become numb within the confines or our relationship, but outside of it I had become an exuberant rainbow.
He tried to get me to stay. That part was hard because he was genuinely upset. He made promises and said the things that I had longed for him to say throughout our entire relationship. But he said them all too late.
Within weeks he met someone new (who he ended up dating for almost as long as we were married) and although there was a slight pinch of jealousy, I did feel happy for him. I must admit that the “happy for him” might have had a lot to do with easing my own guilt though.
I settled quickly into my new home. I was 25 years old living in a dodgy neighbourhood. I had no car, no money and two boyish as hell roommates. I felt like I was 18. I didn’t pursue divorce in a hurry, but eventually my crush confessed that he desperately wanted me to properly divorce my husband because he couldn’t stand it anymore. So I phoned a lawyer.
Unfortunately, my crush suffered for my divorce. He got anonymous texts accusing him of being a home wrecker. Students were rude to him. A fellow teacher was incredibly nasty to both of us. Even though the separation wasn’t too messy for my husband and I (we shared a lawyer and fought about absolutely nothing) there was a lot of studio drama that my crush and I had to contend with.
It was ok though, because even though work had temporarily become a trying environment, I would go home at the end of the day and I would lie down on my bed in my room surrounded by only my things and all I could feel was happy. All the stuff I had missed out on because I had been married so young was suddenly at my feet.
Lying on that bed, staring at the ceiling and not having a single clue where my next meal was coming from was without a doubt the best gift I ever gave myself.
I have made a thousand mistakes since I left my husband. I have gone through some pretty serious hells. More happened in the year following my divorce than happened during my entire five years of marriage. An unplanned pregnancy. A violent fall-out with the boss who I loved like a sister. A premature birth. A lot of tears.
My crush finally broke my heart worse than it has ever been broken.
But you know what?
Every last second of it was worth it.
You often hear people saying that marriages today don’t work because people give up too easily. I get that, I guess. But I can’t help being glad that I gave up. We could have stayed married out of obligation and continued with a mediocre life, but we didn’t. We mustered up our courage and admitted that we had made a mistake. And both of us get to be happier because of it. I think that is more important than forcing a failing marriage to be successful.
Today I am married to the most wonderful man I know (he is absolutely nothing like me!) and it fills me with peace to know that I am here because I want to be here. I am no longer afraid of being alone. I know I can do it. In fact, I even know that I really like it. So I am here, in this house, with this family, because I want to be. Because I love him. And for now that is enough.
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