Divorce is for quitters, and I’m a winner
What I am going to say next may sound strange to some, unrealistic for others, or downright shocking for the rest of you. I stopped having a relationship with my husband long before I decided to have a child. Actually, it happened even before we got married. So if there were any chances of calling it quits, it would have happened before we became parents. But I wasn’t stupid.
I met my husband when I was very young, insecure, and lost. He was there for me when I grew up, as best as he could. He was never the affectionate type, even though I craved it. He was the parental figure that provided material support while being emotionally unavailable and I was familiar with this type.
For a while, I struggled to earn his love. I have put my life on pause while dedicating myself to him entirely. I was no longer “I”. Over the night almost, I have become his girlfriend which made me feel like his shadow, for a long time. Wherever he went, I’d go, whatever he was doing, I did too.
Note! I never really had an identity. As a child, I was enmeshed with my mother, and later on, with him. I barely knew who was I. What I liked, what I didn’t. All I cared about was to ensure that I was there to serve them so they will love me back.
It took me years to set myself apart and build an identity. The easiest thing in this process was to build a career. Being a career-oriented woman became part of my identity. As long as I put in the hours and brains, I also got to see the results. At work, I was regarded an expert. I received the merits and the promotions with worthiness and I knew I didn’t have to prove myself other than by delivering what was expected and more.
As I was focusing more on my profession, my emotional needs diminished considerably. My career has filled a lifelong void that was now barely noticeable anymore. Who needs love, anyway?
Until I did. During one informal dinner, after a couple of wine glasses, one of my managers has told me that my healing will commence once I’ll become a mother. I laughed at her face. What did she know?
Several years later, I decided it was time. I was ready to become a mother. But I wanted to do it in a formal set-up; marriage first, then the child(ren). So I asked him to marry me. It was not romantic, by any books. For a while, he even thought that I was joking. After all, we were together for more than 10 years. Why did I need paper?
By that time, we were sleeping in separate rooms, already. Both of us prioritized a good night’s sleep. Our finances were also separated. We equally shared the living expenses, as well as the dinner check. We had different hobbies. Even different friends.
So, we shared the same roof, we went on the same vacations, and had the occasional sex together. But that was about it. Too little to call it love and too much not to call it a relationship. But was it, really?
Some of you would blame me for my choices while knowing him all along. But this is exactly why I chose him in my journey. I knew him. He was familiar. I knew his type, remember? I was raised by one of his kind.
Whom you’d get pregnant with? The guy that you knew inside-out for years, or a delicious lover that you’ve just met at a rave party? I knew my husband for more than ten years when I decided to have a baby with him.
Point taken, he wasn’t ready to become a parent. I knew this all along, but I was hoping he will come through. Can you blame me?
Back to now. So I survived the first fifteen years together. Some would say that I thrived even. Many that knew me ten years ago can tell the difference. As he was so preoccupied with his own interests, he hasn’t limited my growth experience. I was free to experiment as he never questioned my objectives. As long as I wasn’t needy, he was good with whatever I was doing.
When our son arrived, I naturally asked for help. He wasn’t used to providing it because I rarely requested his presence. As he was emotionally unavailable, I grew to know him well enough not to ask for something that wasn’t there. I learned how to protect myself from failure. But as raw as I was during the first months of motherhood, I knew what I needed, and I could see he was not providing it for me.
So I have withdrawn again. I was sick and tired of asking for his presence, affection, and emotional support that I stopped asking for it. The resentment grew, in turn. Months in a row, I have fantasized about leaving him. I always had the means to do it. But I was never sure about it.
I know now, after almost two years, that I won’t be leaving him to divorce. I know better than this.
Why should I leave with a small child that I’d have to raise by myself, while he will only get to see him now and then? He will get to be the “fun parent” while I’ll be responsible for educating him. He will get to enjoy his free time, while I will have to juggle with work, raising a child, and being a person for myself. He doesn’t deserve this.
He doesn’t deserve having it all easy, while I will struggle even more as a single parent. I’m not stupid.
Note! He’s not violent. I would have left in an instant if he would have been. I think given the proper means, he could turn around to become a good father and a decent partner.
I will demand that he’ll be a parent. I don’t need a husband, even if that would be nice, but I need a partner to raise our son with. So I will invest in this. I will build enough self-confidence to impose boundaries. I will assert myself as a person that deserves respect in all aspects. I will no longer accept any bullsh*t behavior because he has to act his role. And if he doesn’t know how to do it, I’ll teach him. I owe my son this much.
It’s not going to be easy, and I’m not expecting it, either. But I know damn well that I don’t want to be the stupid left, so I’ll work for it. Hard work always pays off.
