I stood at the threshold of our family room after tucking the kids in for the night and asked my husband, “Do you have a moment?” A wave of nervousness washed over me, though I kept it to myself. The recent divorce of friends after 14 years had sparked a lot of thoughts about my own marriage.
I’m not even sure if I waited for him to respond. I dove right in, sharing that I had been evaluating our marriage and would rate it a solid B, possibly a B+ on a good day. We were great friends, parents to three amazing kids, and rarely argued about finances or intimacy. I believed we could achieve an A with just a few adjustments.
“I feel overwhelmed by handling our finances alone, and I worry about what would happen if something were to happen to me. I’d appreciate your help managing our money. Plus, I think we should do something together, just the two of us—dance lessons, volunteering, whatever. I’m open to ideas.”
He didn’t look up from his tablet, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t listening. This was a common scenario for us—me proposing a plan while he browsed the internet. I waited for a response, but silence lingered.
“What do you think?” I finally asked.
He glanced up at me and replied, “No.”
I chuckled, thinking he was joking. “No? To which part?”
“To all of it. I’m tired of trying to please you. You knew who I was when we got married. It was good enough then, so it should be now. I’m not changing.”
I blinked, momentarily stunned, trying to collect my thoughts before responding. We’d had this conversation countless times—my desire for growth and change clashing with his reluctance. Normally, I could persuade him to come around, but this was different. His refusal to work on our relationship felt like a wake-up call.
Speechless, I turned and tidied up the kitchen. About fifteen minutes later, I headed upstairs to bed.
The following week, I sought counseling. I explained to the therapist that my husband didn’t want to work on our marriage and that I was looking for ways to change his mind. She gently clarified that marital therapy isn’t about transforming someone who isn’t ready to change; “He’s either in this with you or he’s not. Until he is, let’s focus on what you can control.”
As the days and weeks passed, my husband remained steadfast in his position. He had consistently communicated that he wasn’t interested in change. The partnership I envisioned for us was not something he wanted. I didn’t need to explain myself again; he understood my feelings but simply disagreed.
With the help of my therapist, I learned to truly hear him. I recognized that he was his own person, with his own beliefs and path. I could choose to accept his stance and stay or reject it and leave.
Ultimately, I chose to leave.
The aftermath was difficult. There were days I found myself doubled over in the frozen food aisle at the grocery store, overwhelmed by the pain of losing my best friend. We had to break the news to our children, a moment that still haunts me with their shocked expressions. Yet, the reality that our desires diverged and we could no longer meet those needs together remained constant.
We divorced.
In hindsight, I can reflect on that night and our relationship with clarity. I see the absurdity of my one-sided assessment of our marriage and my attempts to implement a performance improvement plan without considering his perspective. I had taken on the role of my husband’s manager instead of being his partner. His unwavering refusal to change revealed years of unaddressed frustration. My controlling nature and his growing resentment had woven a complex tapestry alongside our cherished memories of travel, love, and laughter. Our marriage was not a partnership, and it certainly wasn’t healthy.
It took time and distance for me to reevaluate everything. In truth, we function better as co-parents apart than we did together. The resentment tied to our defined roles is gone, as is the quiet dysfunction that used to cloud our communication. We have liberated ourselves from the patterns that made marriage so stifling.
Now, far removed from that initial rift, our children often question why we divorced. They observe our easy interactions, chatting about movies or new restaurants in town, and they see the positive connection we maintain. Our daughter Lily, in particular, often wonders since she has little memory of our time as a family under one roof.
I tell her the truth: her dad and I are good friends, but we weren’t suited as partners. The divorce was heartbreaking, and we had to mourn the loss of our partnership. However, separating ultimately provided the necessary boundaries, allowing us to build individual relationships with our children and take charge of our lives. It freed us from the exhausting cycle we were trapped in. Years later, we have been able to rekindle our friendship without the burden of what was no longer working.
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Summary: The author reflects on her journey through an unfulfilling marriage, recognizing that their partnership was unhealthy and ultimately leading to a decision to divorce. Through therapy, she learned that both partners must be committed to change for a relationship to thrive. Now, as friends and co-parents, they have found a healthier dynamic that benefits their children.