Parting Ways

I had two other subjects lined up before I started to write about this one. It’s now 3:30pm and I’ve decided to change direction altogether. Which would ordinarily be fine except for the fact that I have to write 1000 words before 6pm and all I can think about is ice cream. It’s now 3:44pm so I’m literally going to buy ice cream and then come back and try to write again. By the time I post this it’ll be 10pm because I started writing at too late o’clock in a dairy fuelled coma. Ha! Classic me. Like a pig at a trough just whoofing down food that sets off my inflammation markers. Nice.

Right – let’s see if I can give you something interesting to read for the next few minutes before I rapidly descend into a black hole of deep shame and regret post binge eating.

I’ve had a few interesting conversations this week. All with very good friends of mine, all relating to the things that people deal with behind closed doors. Things we think we’ve got a handle on, things we hope will get better with time, things we aren’t ready to discuss or admit or even acknowledge. Mostly, things we aren’t ready to let go of. Even if letting go is the only thing that will set us free.

As I’ve alluded to in this blog many times before, and for reasons unbeknownst to me, people have a tendency to tell me all their problems. Not that I have an issue with that. Small talk has never been my forte so I have to make a conscious and concerted effort to remember that it’s polite to engage in simple and everyday conversations. I’d happily sit in silence until you had something profound to share. Send me a message to say you’re grappling with life’s deepest questions or that you can’t find your tampon string or that your husband wants to try anal and I’m all ears. That’s just how my brain works. It's not that I don’t want to hear about your day, it’s just that sometimes I forget to ask.

There has been a regular theme in my most recent conversations among friends and that theme has been the dreaded D word - Dick. Just kidding. Divorce, the word is Divorce. These men and women who have shared their marital woes with me are from all different backgrounds and from the outset, would appear to have absolutely nothing in common. But as someone who has spoken to them for hours on end, it would appear that no matter their race or age or religion or upbringing, whether married for 20 years or 5, they all want answers to the same question: How did I get here?

For a while now I’ve considered that I probably should have been a Psychologist or a Counsellor of some sort. At least then I’d have a shred of credibility when I start rattling off my thoughts and opinions on the complexity of human relationships. I don’t know why anyone would ask my opinion when I write a blog laughing about how unmarried I am. I can’t even get a date. Seriously! And yet people want to know how I think they got from A to D. Which obviously I don’t tell them. Because how would I know? Instead I offer a listening ear and an outsiders perspective laced with every caveat under the sun. Because all opinions on a relationship that you’re not involved in should come with caveats.

You cannot know what you did not see.

I have friends who married for love and friends who married for a certain type of kindness that they mistook for love. I have friends who came from disturbing, abusive upbringings in countries very different to mine. Friends who lived in far away places that I’ve never been to and fled their home countries before they could get married off. Destined for a life of downtrodden struggle and misery. I have friends who have endured sexless, loveless marriages out of fear of the unknown. I know men who have suggested couples counselling, sick of being hassled and berated for loading the dishwasher the wrong way. I have sat across dinner tables with women who haven’t been kissed or held or touched by their husbands for decades. Women who’ve forgotten what it’s like to be adored. Women who think their husband loves the kids more than them. I’ve listened as men explain how hard they work and how much they sacrifice to provide for their families. Men who on the precipice of a divorce settlement have agreed to take the 20% deal. Left with nothing but two suitcases in the boot of their car and a hotel booking until they find somewhere permanent to live during a housing crisis.

These men and women are the same people wondering how they got here. Hard pressed to find the answers for why I Do turned into I Don’t Want To Anymore. You might be on the other side of the screen feeling the same way. Like love has officially left the building and platonic niceties have taken its place along with joint custody agreements. The person you once promised forever to is a roommate at best or a source of resentment or an unheld hand and a cold shoulder in the evening. So if you were to sit across a dinner table and unload your problems onto me, what would I say?

I would firstly say that I have no idea what it takes to make a relationship work because I’ve ended any semblance of the ones I’ve had. I do know what I’ve learnt about myself with those endings (in conjunction with aloooooot of reading) and it’s that no one has a crystal ball. You actually have to talk to each other. What you like today, you may not like tomorrow. When you met your wife she may have tangled her feet up in yours in bed and you found it cute that she wanted to be so close. 10 years and 2 kids later, you may want to karate kick her into the next room. When you met your husband he may have worn footy shorts to the shops which you thought was endearing because he didn’t care what people thought. Now you wish he’d stop dressing like a bogan and take some pride in his appearance. What I know about women is that footy shorts themselves are rarely the problem. It’s that time 3 years ago when your husband did that thing and never said sorry because you didn’t tell him it was a thing and 3 years later you’re resenting everything he does because he still hasn’t learned to read your mind. Too many women are under the false impression that men know or that they should know and we hold it against them when they don’t. Newsflash - they really DON’T and they really CAN’T unless you tell them. If they’re the right man for you, they’ll accept that you don’t like the dishwasher stacked that way. Sure they’ll think you’re crazy, but they’ll respect that you’re upfront about it.

You have to accept and you have to expect that the person you love today will change and evolve over time. You have to learn to love who they are becoming. You also have to accept that sometimes the love you think you should settle for is based on the kind of love you’re trying to avoid because the example set for you was less than ideal. Which with hindsight may mean you made a big mistake when you said Yes. Some people choose for safety and kindness which I’ve seen turn into loneliness and misery. Some people choose based on a ticking clock which I’ve seen turn into regret. Some people choose for love and want to stay, some people choose for love and want to go. At times the damage has been irreversibly done and there is simply no turning back.  

Whichever choice you make, the most important one happens at the very beginning. That’s the only thing I can tell you for sure.

Rather than ask someone like me how you got from A to D, perhaps consider the fact that you never sat down to talk about how you’d get to Forever. You just assumed you would.

With love, always

J