I’m looking at boxes on the floor of my former married life and wonder is that it? Is that all there is or was? It shocks me to this day that I am divorced, even though I was the one who left. But in truth, my ex left first. But it was I who left the house. The hints were there, so were the icebergs, and I really never wished for this transition…
The safe harbor of our marriage started, like many marriages, with a great honeymoon. We traveled well together and I have always said that the couple that travels together, stays together…go figure. But even then little hints began to surface, like my husband not wanting to use a bell-man for our luggage. This was something I always took for granted. Shaking it off, it was no big deal, just go with it, said I. Little did I know that the many more little hints which surfaced would begin to sway against the hull of our marriage-ship.
Eventually, it was the rolling open sea that crept into our marriage-ship. First, he announced that we should not have children-iceberg. And I knew that once it was baby overboard, so too went everything else about my life, my hopes and dreams..more icebergs still.
In spite of everything, I was in love and carried on. I was married after all. (Divorce? Me?!!? Never.) As we continued to sail on the not-as-good-as-it-was marriage-ship, more little things-those pesky hints-rose up to meet us. Waves of grief began to engulf me night after lonely night as I discovered with shock, his demanding fears of no child-or should I say his overwhelming fear of me getting pregnant-meant very little coupling, just to make the point clear. This then spilled over into other areas of our lives.
Soon after, we, no I, really became a lonely house bound wife with no where to turn, and no husband to comfort me. We never spoke about our feelings. Correction, I got tired of hearing my own voice, tired of talking to a man whose only words of comfort were, “I’m sorry you feel that way.” These were the only words he knew and it did nothing to help us at all. We were who I loved when we traveled or left the house even. Years began to slip away.
The lifeboats of couples therapy were equal in their comings and goings. Years and years of that could do nothing to help right our now slowly sinking ship. I wanted so desperately to be a happily ever-after married couple. Daily, I looked around for him to help me save our ship, but he had already cast adrift and was headed so far from me to even know which way to steer our vessel. I was desperate to keep from running aground.
I kept steering, instead, to the good times and there were plenty, and actually, it was those times that helped us to stay afloat. But even those good times could not counterbalance the sinking of our marriage-ship. Taking on more water than I could possibly bail out with my teaspoon, there were just too many icebergs to navigate, and the waves of sorrow that greeted me everyday were beyond me. I finally had to find the strength to open my mouth and utter those God-awful words.
A friend told me recently that my ex is devastated by my leaving. Devastated. Funny. I spent over ten years in devastation without a life jacket or anything to help me stay buoyant in a sea of hints and bergs. I stayed too long, I stayed for all the wrong reasons-to not hurt him, to not hurt his feelings, to protect him at all costs-to the ruination of my heart, the absolute sinking of my dreams of a happily ever after.
So, the ship sank. Now, here I am, sailing off in my own boat and there he goes in his. As we cried together over the shock of ending things, he told me that he knew he had pushed me away from him, away from his heart. Why did he wait for us to be setting off from each other before saying that? Had I known, maybe our ship could have been righted after all.
New waves of grief pound me at times and I marvel at the little vessel that stays afloat. My home is my harbor, lovely, safe. But only time can quell the sorrow that insists upon rising up in me. I am my own lifeboat, and those boxes, well…only a few to take away with me. After all, my little vessel can only hold so much, and I don’t want to sink again.