When a marriage starts to unravel, long-buried grievances resurface, often with a sting that rivals fresh wounds. Accusations of betrayal, deceit, and indifference fly back and forth, and it becomes all too easy to slip into the mindset of “I’m right, and you’re wrong.” I found myself in this very situation not long ago, firmly entrenched in my grievances, arms crossed, tears streaming down my face, convinced that I was the sole victim. “I just can’t do this anymore,” I thought.
Then, a friend imparted some wisdom that shifted my perspective. “You seem so convinced that you’re the only one suffering. Remember, this is a person you loved enough to have kids with. Are you really sure he’s not hurting too? Have you given him a chance to share his side?”
I wasn’t exactly in the mood to hear my husband out. And isn’t that the crux of many disputes? We become so wrapped up in our own emotional outbursts that we fail to truly listen. Amid the chaos, I began to wonder if I was denying myself the chance to mend the rift. “I don’t have the strength for this,” I whispered to myself.
For several days, I tiptoed around my husband, unsure how to express my desire for communication. If I’m honest, I doubted he even wanted to talk to me. Our silence had built walls so thick that our only interactions revolved around the kids and household logistics.
Lying awake at night, I contemplated how to convey that I was ready to listen. Then one morning, I surprised myself by saying, “I’m sorry.”
Both of us were taken aback by the sudden shift. My inner critic shouted in protest at my apology, but my heart encouraged me to go further. “Am I really screwing this up?” I pondered.
“I haven’t treated you fairly. We’ve been going in circles without truly hearing each other. We’re both hurting, but can we take a moment to listen to one another?” He didn’t respond verbally, but I noticed a slight softening in his demeanor, a flicker of acknowledgment. “Please don’t leave me,” my heart whispered.
In the days that followed, we clumsily navigated conversations, cautiously avoiding the hot-button issues that triggered our anger. I reminded myself to focus on the present rather than dwell on past grievances. And isn’t that what forgiveness really means?
There are still moments when I feel that familiar tightness in my chest, anger bubbling to the surface like a volcano ready to erupt. The process of contemplating divorce, then getting stuck in the limbo of “should we or shouldn’t we?” feels exhausting. I often yearn for a clear resolution, but that’s not how relationships or life work, especially when kids are involved.
I’ve swallowed my pride and made it my daily mission to practice compassion and listening with my husband. Who knows if this will lead us anywhere, but at least we’re treating each other with a bit more gentleness now. “Somewhere in this mess, there’s still love,” I remind myself.
“Our kids are observing us,” I tell him, “so we really need to figure this out.”
So, we find ourselves like two prickly porcupines—desiring closeness while navigating the sharp points of old hurts. There’s love amidst the chaos, of this I’m certain. And if, in the end, we don’t make it, at least I’ll know we truly gave it our all.
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Summary:
Navigating the ups and downs of marriage can be challenging, especially when past grievances resurface. In a moment of clarity, Jenna learns the importance of humility and forgiveness, recognizing that both partners are capable of hurt. By choosing to listen and communicate, they take steps toward healing and understanding, even amidst the chaos.