He brought me flowers, and I thought about divorce...
On being in the messy middle, and reaching back
When was the last time you saw someone open up about being in a struggling marriage?
Not just an Instagram-perfect happily ever after with minor squabbles, or a pretending-everything's-okay while they secretly hate each other situation.
Not a years-later "it was bad, but we fixed it," or a seemingly out-of-nowhere divorce announcement.
I mean a relationship where they still like, love, and respect each other, but there are significant cracks in the foundation, and they don't know how to fix it, but they're trying.
Until this week, I'd seen few, if any, examples of someone sharing real, deep relationship issues, while actively working on them.
It feels like everywhere I look, I can find narratives of relationships that have already been repaired behind the scenes, or those that didn't make it, but none that are still together, still in the thick of it, and still on each other's side.
I know they're out there, of course - I was shocked to see a couple examples1 just this week, actually - but they're certainly not prevalent. And it makes me wonder, with all the silence, how does anyone get through those struggles at all?
Well…I can't answer that.
But I can show up here and say that I'm in that messy middle with my husband right now.2
These are the hands of your best friend, young and strong and full of love for you, that are holding yours on your wedding day, as you promise to love each other today, tomorrow, and forever.
These are the hands that will passionately love you and cherish you through the years, and with the slightest touch will comfort you like no other.
These are the hands that will work alongside yours, as you build your future together.
These are the hands that will hold you whenever illness, fear, or grief may find you.
These are the hands that will give you strength when you need it.
These are the hands that will tenderly hold your children.
These are the hands that, even when wrinkled and aged, will still be reaching for yours.
This quote was read at our wedding ceremony seven years ago.
I painstakingly wrote/cobbled together every part of our ceremony and our vows myself. I had only ever intended to do this once, and words are important to me, so I wanted to get it right.
I couldn't imagine a time when these words wouldn't be true; when I wouldn't be one hundred percent certain that our hands would still be reaching for each other “even when wrinkled and aged,” and that I would be quietly contemplating the potential end of our marriage.
But this week, when my husband came home from work with the first bouquet of “just because” flowers he'd given me in years, my first thought was about divorce.
This might not make sense to anyone outside of our relationship because my husband is a wonderful person and because, up until now, I haven't felt able to share how deeply I've been struggling with anyone.
I think that without many representations of this kind of struggle, it makes people afraid to admit when they're experiencing it.
Maybe they're embarrassed. Maybe they're afraid that talking about it will open them up to criticism, or that if they admit how bad things are out loud, it will all fall apart for good. Maybe they're like me, and hate to be seen in process; maybe they can't bear to be seen struggling to do whatever it is they're trying to do, including having a healthy relationship.
But the truth is, the only thing that my silence about this so far has gotten me is a deep sense of loneliness.
I've been married to my husband for seven years, and have spent probably the last two thinking on-and-off about the potential for divorce - not because he's terrible, or because I really want to leave, but because I've felt really lonely and disconnected in our relationship.
Our seventh wedding anniversary came and went quietly at the end of August this year, and I couldn't bring myself to write out a lengthy, romantic post, or to hand make a cheesy card to give him. We both more-or-less forgot about it entirely, and in a way, I was relieved.
I love my husband, and I can see that he's trying, that all of his energy and effort is being put toward caring for our family, and -
I still feel alone; like we've been going through these past couple of years alongside each other, rather than together.
At some point (between the work, and the kids, and the pandemic, and the chronic illnesses, and the house-moving, and…) while we've been building our life, we both stopped reaching for each other.
Suddenly, there were days when I couldn't remember the last time we had cuddled, or kissed, or had sex, let alone held hands.
All along, we've both been showing up and contributing to our family, but our relationship has not been well tended, and we haven't been on the same page about a lot of things.
So, on the day my husband brought me those flowers, I was already thinking about divorce - not in an active, “give me the papers now” way, but in a sort of resigned, far-off-but-probably-inevitable kind of way.
And I was planning to share with him some things I'd written for myself to help me process everything that I was feeling about our relationship; to try, in a way I hadn't yet tried, to get him to understand how desperate I was feeling, how lonely, and how much I wanted this to work but couldn't see how.
When he walked in with the flowers, I felt numb.
I almost wanted to laugh at the irony of the timing, but I couldn't even smile, thinking about the conversation we were about to have. I didn't know what he would say, or how much of a difference any of it would make.
I was just so tired of having the same conversations over and over without change.
But this time…
The conversation was different. After carefully reading what I had written, my husband paused, reflected, and then thanked me for sharing it with him instead of keeping it to myself like I'd initially intended. And then, he was more open with me than he'd been in a long time.
He told me that he thought he was finally beginning to understand how I’ve been feeling, and that seeing it all written out that way helped him. He expressed that he's been feeling lonely and disconnected from me, too. And then:
He reached his hand toward me.
And I reached back.
Obviously, this is just the beginning of us figuring out how to continue to reach back toward each other. This isn't a happy ending wrapped up tight with a pretty bow. And I think that's important, because so many of the stories we see are portrayed that way.
I hope if you're reading this, and you're feeling lonely in your marriage - or in anything, really - that this will help you feel seen.
And, to quote P.S. I Love You, “if we're all alone, then we're all together in that, too.”
Do you know of any good examples of people openly working through marital (or long-term relationship) struggles? Have you been in a similar place yourself? Or maybe you're feeling alone in some other experience.
If so, we'd love for you to share your experience or your thoughts in the comments. And if this resonated with you, feel free to share!
On Wednesday, Kristin and Deena of biglittlefeelings (on instagram) shared a podcast episode in which Deena discusses how her marriage has changed since having kids, and how she and her husband are on the brink of divorce.
Also this week,
shared this post here on Substack about showing up authentically - including in her marriage, which has been feeling off lately. I shouldn't have been so shocked by either of these things, but I was.I just want to note, in case anyone in wondering about how my husband feels about this, that when I brought this post and asked if he minded me writing about us, I offered to let him read it before publication, and he said, “write whatever you want,” so - mindfully - I did. He's subscribed to this Substack, and it's in no way a secret to him.
When Jason and I imploded, it was very much difficult to understand why. Like, he’s a beautiful father, a respectable guy, and yet there was exactly what you said--just a sense of disconnection.
We continued to live together but were emotionally separated, and he had to do the work to find his own answers instead of relying on me to do it. He made changes that he never would have otherwise and developed a deeper connection within himself that only he could do. It was amazing the way he showed up after that.
We have moments that remind me of our before time, that feel really really hard. We’re still in the messy middle. But we each are committed to our own authenticity because we can’t show up well for each other if we don’t.
I struggled with this a few years back. It was really shocking to me because any time I talked about it I got black and white leave or stay responses but never any help to figure out actual solutions. Everyone wanted to vilify my husband because I was unhappy and they wanted to be on my side, but it's not a this or that conversation and my husband was truly not a villain in the situation. In many ways he was doing nothing wrong, but he still somehow wasn't doing right either? We're in a good place now, and that's due in part to a lot of different things including having more help, and our little one getting a little older, and getting into a good routine, and treating mental health, and getting out of a work a holic mindset etc. I'm so glad you guys were able to talk about it. That seems to be key, but who really knows?