I was with my husband at the Cheesecake Factory waiting for a couple joining our marriage mentor group. Silence filled the car ride there. When they arrived, smiling and hand-in-hand, I switched to my role as a marriage mentor. I hugged them and invited them to sit. My husband offered a slight smile, but I did most of the talking.
As we got settled, I felt weary. For the next hour, I would pretend all was well. I asked my usual questions to learn about them and explained the group’s dynamics. They had questions too: How did we meet? How long had we been together? How did we handle disagreements?
One question caught me off guard: What was our secret to staying together? I mumbled something about communication, patience, and choosing each other. It sounded appropriate coming from a marriage mentor. But inside, I felt uneasy. I was not being truthful. Happiness had been missing from my marriage for a long time.
I had become absorbed in my corporate job at Chipotle, often staying late. It was easier to immerse in work than to face the reality at home. Yet, I held on to my identity as a loyal partner. I convinced myself there were reasons I couldn’t leave. One fear loomed: losing my marriage meant losing the identity I had built within it. Who would I be without being a ‘good wife’? I feared losing myself entirely.
Moreover, explaining a divorce to the newlywed group, my church, and my mom seemed impossible. Despite the doubts, there were still good times. Nothing stood out as a clear reason for unhappiness. No abuse or infidelity existed. In a marriage with good days, pinpointing dissatisfaction can be difficult.
So, I stayed. Grateful, even. Others had worse situations, I told myself. If I left, questions would arise, ones I couldn’t answer. I adjusted, convinced it wasn’t that bad. But I grew tired. Exhausted from the pretense of being fine. Tired of aiding others in building strong marriages while yearning to leave mine.
One late Friday, as my husband slept, I sat with a friend in our building’s lobby. Saying ‘I have to get a divorce’ out loud felt like crossing a finish line after a marathon.
Twelve years have passed since that moment. I left the mentor group, met a partner I’ve been with for a decade, and changed careers. The most significant change is not avoiding my feelings. I sometimes think about that couple in the booth. They earnestly questioned our secret to staying together, seeking comforting advice for future hardships. Yet, I couldn’t honestly answer them. The real question was never about staying together. It was about staying truthful with myself.
My marriage endured long after I stopped being honest with myself about my desires. Back then, I believed I needed an undeniable reason to leave. Now, I understand being truthful with myself about my feelings was reason enough.
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