I think I went six years. And I never did have kids because after six years my biological clock was too close to its end. I convinced myself I’d be okay. And I am. But I still grieve. I still wonder what would’ve happened if I’d had the conversation more honestly sooner.
My moment was when I watched him drag our ten week old puppy on the leash behind him, completely unaware that she had lost her feet from underneath her. I knew in that moment that he was not a father. He never once admitted it to me, even in or after the divorce. He thinks he chose kindness, but the real kindness would have been honesty.
kindness laced with lies is just cruelty in disguise.
I knew this story was in you. And I’ve felt it from you. It feels freeing and cathartic for you to write it out loud.
Yeah, I think I get caught in that "what if" question - it doesn't always lead to good places. But I have to remember that I left my marriage at the right time. Sooner, sure, I might have met a new set of different people and would have been a different person then. But I'm living the life I am meant to now. And that is meaningful to me.
Thank you, my friend. This story, and the group of stories I am about to tell that surround it, are freeing and cathartic. And still deeply painful. Ooof.
Thank you, Stephanie. This was a challenging, but rewarding, essay to write and share. I appreciate you reading and commenting. It means a lot to me. 🩵
Thank you, Sam! I know many people struggle with similar components in their life. As I move through this, I wanted people to know it was okay. They would be okay. 🩵
Thank you for sharing such vulnerable stories. We can all learn from each other when we can be this level of honest. I avoided plenty of conversations with my late husband that I regret. I am doing better this time around, although not perfectly, but who does? 😉 Your insights are always so appreciated, Alex. ✨
First of all, it feels like a privilege to read this and thereby "witness" the emotional struggle and pain you went through. Writing and then sharing this essay was generous, kind, and brave.
I'm not sure I agree that your reluctance to have the painful conversation sooner was because of cowardice. Sometimes, it takes time to process the difficult stuff. To get to the point of readiness to speak about it. To face it, or rather, to face the consquence that might follow speaking about it. The dissolution of a marriage, is no small thing. So don't be so hard on yourself.
As you wrote, your body knew. It always does. The part about you grinding your teeth so hard you broke a molar, sure highlights that. Sometimes, I wonder if the stress over my mother's metastatic cancer diagnosis and death helped lead to my own diagnosis - or speeded the inevitable up. I'll never know.
I'm glad you had that conversation and have never given up on your dream to be a dad. One thing I know without ever having met you, Alex, is that you'll be a wonderful father, should that happen one day. I admire your courage in staying true to what you really want, for having that conversation, no matter how long it took it have it. And I admire you for sharing this deeply personal experience with us, your readers. Knowing you trust us enough to share this with us means a lot. Thank you.
You are right, I should probably be kinder to myself. I was married for a long time, it takes time to process through that :)
The body does know. You bring up such an interesting thought - I could absolutely believe that the level of stress involved in the care offered to your mother during her experience with metastatic cancer led to your own (or sped it up). I mean, there are plenty of examples of when your bodies become so tired and worn, that they become susceptible. Why would it not also be the case here?
Thank you, Nancy. I haven't given up on the dream, and I hope to make it true someday. 🩵
This experience resonates. Our silent pact wasn't about children but about naming the drift. The loss of connection. The symptoms were the same. The not wanting to name it. The trying to be kind. A decade passed and we had both exited the marriage long before we named it. I made a podcast about how I had managed to convince myself there was no point talking about it for so long. But now I realise there is always a point to talking and it ws doing neither of us any favours pretending otherwise. Much love to you Alex.
Thank you, Gillian. The symptoms are often the same. I think we frequently convince ourselves that too much time has passed us by... but it is never too late to be honest. The relief is palpable, even if the grief comes at a cost.
Oh damn! Why did I tear up when I read this...gosh! I could feel the tension in my throat and shoulders and even gut...I can't even imagine how much energy it'd have taken you to dig through the memories, and write this Alex! But there's a deep feeling that you releasing this onto the world shows the closing of a chapter that doesn't belong to you anymore. I hope you slept well after finishing this.
Somehow, the memory of me not standing up to my parents for years came to mind as I read this. I never expressed my anger of them not standing up for me through sexual abuse by a family member, I never stood up fully for my dad not being there...it was all half assed, until I burst fully in January of this year. My soul and body couldn't deal with it anymore and it was a volcanic eruption.
I'm so so so glad I did that. Even if I felt so guilty...even within the rage then. Wwhhheeewww
This one was a hard one to write! A lot of energy, a lot of memories, but it was definitely a release. But interestingly enough, it has led to a lot more to let go of. A few more essays. Haha!
Thank you for sharing too. That deep anger simmers beneath the surface. I'm so glad, even if you had a bit of conflicting feelings after, that you let it out. The body knows, even if the mind won't let us speak it, if we aren't being honest about how we are truly feeling. You deserve to be stood up for, cared, and protected. Thank you for your vulnerable share 🩵
This is an amazingly poignant, deeply personal essay. Thank you so much for sharing your vulnerability and your marital experience. My ex-husband and I were together for 20 years, 16 of them married. It was a horrid marriage, but I couldn't bear being alone. That was on me. Instead, we were both miserable. I had wanted kids, and he said he wanted kids, but he really didn't.
So we didn't have kids. Instead, I was so anguished those entire 16 years, I got cancer. I don't know truly if there's a link between stress and physical illness, but I think there is. And, unfortunately, the divorce didn't end amicably. It dragged on for two years, and we didn't even have kids!
Turns out, I adopted a baby as a single parent. I'm not suggesting adoption, as it's not for everyone.
Divorce is so emotionally difficult, but so is living in an empty marriage. You will heal, and I bet writing this was cathartic. Sometimes we need to write what's in our hearts.
Thank you for sharing, Beth. Reading this, I felt even more connected to you and your story. I think there is a link between stress and physical illness. There is certainly research, although not conclusive to any specific ailment, although plenty of anecdotal evidence. In my work as a yoga therapist, there is undoubtedly a relationship.
This really resonates: "Divorce is so emotionally difficult, but so is living in an empty marriage. You will heal, and I bet writing this was cathartic. Sometimes we need to write what's in our hearts."
That was where I finally arrived. I told myself all sorts of things, some pretty mean ("you don't want to be one of THOSE statistics"), but in the end, it was the right thing. I am so much happier.
Oh my.. Alexander. I feel this in my deepest of places.. my heart resonates in harmony with the kindness you offered your husband then, the patience you walked.
I hope that you never question the depth of your patience, nor the accommodations your love allows for, they are qualities within you that shine brightly with tenderness.
All this, and? I am glad for you that you knew you could no longer allow him time. There came a moment you were finally ready to say no more. And this moment didn’t come a second too late.
If you had not given him that patience, you might always second guess yourself.
Yes, I think if I had not offered him time and patience, I would have always second-guessed my hastiness. And it is not in my nature to force decisions on people.
Thank you for your kind words and empathy. They truly warmed my heart this morning 🩵
This was so good. Such a vulnerable and yes, honest, piece. It was like I was sitting across from you, and you were opening up about this part of your life. I have to say, I have wondered about it for a long time, but I didn't want to ask, because I didn't want to pry. The fact that you chose to open up publicly about what disintegrated your marriage is something I deeply admire. It's a courageous act.
So was owning your non-negotiable to have kids. That's courageous. So was the hard conversation in which you both had to confront what you had been avoiding. Also courageous.
I am realizing more and more that long marriage/partnership is really hard. No one has a clue when they make that commitment that one day they will have a spouse who ends up with a mental health crisis (me) or a child with a complicated medical diagnosis (Sarah) or a host of other unforeseen and unforeseeable challenges. I'm thinking as I type this of three close friends who have opened up to me about their marriages in the past year: one ended up in a psychiatric inpatient clinic for a week due to a psychotic break, after she separated from him after thirty years of marriage; one hasn't left yet but played a voice clip in which her husband verbally abused her and called her a fucking bitch; one left a long time ago but her ex is dragging on the divorce, which has caused a HUGE amount of legal debt for her.
I didn't know how divorce could sometimes be worse than staying married. I know sometimes it's not, but I think about it after these conversations, where my friends weep to me and I just hold their hands, tell them I'm here, check in with them periodically and in between our in-person get-togethers.
Children is a huge deal breaker. I have to admit I am relieved that Ben and I were always on the same page with that one. We both agreed to "have as many children as God gave us," but I ended up being the one who felt duped about going along with that. I never saw myself as a mom, didn't think I'd make a good one, and I struggle EVERY SINGLE DAY to respond to my kids with patience and empathy. Mostly, I want to yell, "What the hell do you think you're doing!" But I refrain. Ben is nonchalant and doesn't struggle as much as I do to keep his cool. He's the "fun" parent. He's the less strict of the two.
What I'm saying is that even though Ben and I agreed on the "having" children part of our relationship, we didn't exactly talk through the "raising" children part. It's sometimes a source of contention.
For us, it's not about avoiding hard conversations. It's the fact that there is seldom any repair and reconnection. We just have this huge, hurtful argument, and it simply ends abruptly. Then Ben acts like nothing at all happened, and we never revisit it. I can't let things like that go as easily. They compound for me.
All this to say that I think what you did was brave, Alex, and I'm sad your long marriage ended in divorce. I also know with every fiber of my being that you will be a fantastic father, and I deeply hope that longing gets to be fulfilled in your life one day.
Yes, I think marriage is one of those ultimate hardships. And to be together for a very long time... well, that is why the brain works so hard to addict one another to each other in the first place through "falling in love." Because the act of child rearing and staying with one another is so difficult, it must play a role in keeping people together. And the society goes and creates the institution of marriage, sealed with religious, social, cultural, and legal norms, to REALLY make it difficult to exit.
I think that is the worst part of what I study. I see marriage for what it is. And I see how early we start socializing our children into the religious, social, and cultural norms of marriage. So we have the biological part of ourselves that wants to be parents and produce offspring. And then the other part of ourselves that is a product of this socialization.
Growing up LDS is why I suspect I want a larger-than-normal-sized family, despite not following those teachings or participating in that culture anymore. From a very young age, I was taught that a larger family was desirable, and surrounded by large families. I can't shake it. Reality might get in the way, but it's interesting how deep that yearning goes, and I can pinpoint exactly where it comes from.
Thank you, my friend. I hope to make it a reality someday.
Thank you for sharing all of that, Alex. I'd like to speak more about this with you - religious upbringing/influence and family size.
Similarly, growing up Catholic, I was led to believe that larger families signified "holiness," because it meant the couple likely didn't contracept and "welcomed as many children as God gave" them.
Having tried to squish myself into this container, I can attest to its challenges.
I will also say, though, that I do think some people with certain personalities just really do well with a lot of children. I've witnessed it a lot, sometimes with envy, but I do think some parents just love having a lot of kids. I happen to struggle with it, but it might be that you'd do well with several. Who knows? If it works for some people, I genuinely admire that. I also recognize it's not everyone's reality.
Thank you, Nancy. I appreciate that. But, the pain was a necessary part of my journey. It chose me. And, I'm grateful to have experienced my marriage. There were so many happy, joyful, moments. I would not have traded them in. 🩵
Extrapolated over the myriad of issues a couple can have, this is gold. Thank you for sharing something so poignant and painful. We tangle ourselves and each other in the external world, all to avoid looking within; the only place we can ever heal anything. When we take responsibility for other's feelings in the name of being kind, it seems to make such sense. We want to avoid causing them pain. That's what good people do right? But this post expertly delineates the inevitable head-on collision that results. It is a fabulous lesson we can all learn something so important from. Thank you, Alexander. 🙏🏻
Thank you, my friend. It's always a challenge - we try so hard to preserve others' feelings, often at the cost of our own. Well, no longer! I think the kindest thing we can do, for ourselves and for others, is to be authentic and honest.
There's a lot here, punchy hard-hitting lines and weight between the words. I can relate to pouring years into an intimate relationship and not wanting to break that spell. I think many live it ~ I hope you're feeling freer, happier and at peace... ✨
Gulp. I feel this.
I think I went six years. And I never did have kids because after six years my biological clock was too close to its end. I convinced myself I’d be okay. And I am. But I still grieve. I still wonder what would’ve happened if I’d had the conversation more honestly sooner.
My moment was when I watched him drag our ten week old puppy on the leash behind him, completely unaware that she had lost her feet from underneath her. I knew in that moment that he was not a father. He never once admitted it to me, even in or after the divorce. He thinks he chose kindness, but the real kindness would have been honesty.
kindness laced with lies is just cruelty in disguise.
I knew this story was in you. And I’ve felt it from you. It feels freeing and cathartic for you to write it out loud.
Yeah, I think I get caught in that "what if" question - it doesn't always lead to good places. But I have to remember that I left my marriage at the right time. Sooner, sure, I might have met a new set of different people and would have been a different person then. But I'm living the life I am meant to now. And that is meaningful to me.
Thank you, my friend. This story, and the group of stories I am about to tell that surround it, are freeing and cathartic. And still deeply painful. Ooof.
I'm glad to be one of the people you met now.
Thank you Alexander for your vulnerability and sharing the quiet part out loud. Absolutely beautiful.
Thank you, Stephanie. This was a challenging, but rewarding, essay to write and share. I appreciate you reading and commenting. It means a lot to me. 🩵
This is so vulnerably written and moving. I'm amazed by your willingness to share this. It's truly inspiring. Thank you.
Thank you, Sam! I know many people struggle with similar components in their life. As I move through this, I wanted people to know it was okay. They would be okay. 🩵
Thank you for sharing such vulnerable stories. We can all learn from each other when we can be this level of honest. I avoided plenty of conversations with my late husband that I regret. I am doing better this time around, although not perfectly, but who does? 😉 Your insights are always so appreciated, Alex. ✨
Thank you, Nancy.
Who does it perfectly? Certainly not me! We can only do better as we go. That is the point of life. We learn. We grow. We do better for ourselves. 🩵
Wow - this really resonated with me. Thank you for sharing such a powerful experience.
Thank you, Sheila, for being here and for reading. This was a very vulnerable one for me! But it felt important to write and share.
Hi Alex,
First of all, it feels like a privilege to read this and thereby "witness" the emotional struggle and pain you went through. Writing and then sharing this essay was generous, kind, and brave.
I'm not sure I agree that your reluctance to have the painful conversation sooner was because of cowardice. Sometimes, it takes time to process the difficult stuff. To get to the point of readiness to speak about it. To face it, or rather, to face the consquence that might follow speaking about it. The dissolution of a marriage, is no small thing. So don't be so hard on yourself.
As you wrote, your body knew. It always does. The part about you grinding your teeth so hard you broke a molar, sure highlights that. Sometimes, I wonder if the stress over my mother's metastatic cancer diagnosis and death helped lead to my own diagnosis - or speeded the inevitable up. I'll never know.
I'm glad you had that conversation and have never given up on your dream to be a dad. One thing I know without ever having met you, Alex, is that you'll be a wonderful father, should that happen one day. I admire your courage in staying true to what you really want, for having that conversation, no matter how long it took it have it. And I admire you for sharing this deeply personal experience with us, your readers. Knowing you trust us enough to share this with us means a lot. Thank you.
Hi Nancy -
You are right, I should probably be kinder to myself. I was married for a long time, it takes time to process through that :)
The body does know. You bring up such an interesting thought - I could absolutely believe that the level of stress involved in the care offered to your mother during her experience with metastatic cancer led to your own (or sped it up). I mean, there are plenty of examples of when your bodies become so tired and worn, that they become susceptible. Why would it not also be the case here?
Thank you, Nancy. I haven't given up on the dream, and I hope to make it true someday. 🩵
This experience resonates. Our silent pact wasn't about children but about naming the drift. The loss of connection. The symptoms were the same. The not wanting to name it. The trying to be kind. A decade passed and we had both exited the marriage long before we named it. I made a podcast about how I had managed to convince myself there was no point talking about it for so long. But now I realise there is always a point to talking and it ws doing neither of us any favours pretending otherwise. Much love to you Alex.
Thank you, Gillian. The symptoms are often the same. I think we frequently convince ourselves that too much time has passed us by... but it is never too late to be honest. The relief is palpable, even if the grief comes at a cost.
Oh damn! Why did I tear up when I read this...gosh! I could feel the tension in my throat and shoulders and even gut...I can't even imagine how much energy it'd have taken you to dig through the memories, and write this Alex! But there's a deep feeling that you releasing this onto the world shows the closing of a chapter that doesn't belong to you anymore. I hope you slept well after finishing this.
Somehow, the memory of me not standing up to my parents for years came to mind as I read this. I never expressed my anger of them not standing up for me through sexual abuse by a family member, I never stood up fully for my dad not being there...it was all half assed, until I burst fully in January of this year. My soul and body couldn't deal with it anymore and it was a volcanic eruption.
I'm so so so glad I did that. Even if I felt so guilty...even within the rage then. Wwhhheeewww
Hi Shruthi,
This one was a hard one to write! A lot of energy, a lot of memories, but it was definitely a release. But interestingly enough, it has led to a lot more to let go of. A few more essays. Haha!
Thank you for sharing too. That deep anger simmers beneath the surface. I'm so glad, even if you had a bit of conflicting feelings after, that you let it out. The body knows, even if the mind won't let us speak it, if we aren't being honest about how we are truly feeling. You deserve to be stood up for, cared, and protected. Thank you for your vulnerable share 🩵
Hi Alex,
This is an amazingly poignant, deeply personal essay. Thank you so much for sharing your vulnerability and your marital experience. My ex-husband and I were together for 20 years, 16 of them married. It was a horrid marriage, but I couldn't bear being alone. That was on me. Instead, we were both miserable. I had wanted kids, and he said he wanted kids, but he really didn't.
So we didn't have kids. Instead, I was so anguished those entire 16 years, I got cancer. I don't know truly if there's a link between stress and physical illness, but I think there is. And, unfortunately, the divorce didn't end amicably. It dragged on for two years, and we didn't even have kids!
Turns out, I adopted a baby as a single parent. I'm not suggesting adoption, as it's not for everyone.
Divorce is so emotionally difficult, but so is living in an empty marriage. You will heal, and I bet writing this was cathartic. Sometimes we need to write what's in our hearts.
Powerful essay, Alex.
Thank you for sharing, Beth. Reading this, I felt even more connected to you and your story. I think there is a link between stress and physical illness. There is certainly research, although not conclusive to any specific ailment, although plenty of anecdotal evidence. In my work as a yoga therapist, there is undoubtedly a relationship.
This really resonates: "Divorce is so emotionally difficult, but so is living in an empty marriage. You will heal, and I bet writing this was cathartic. Sometimes we need to write what's in our hearts."
That was where I finally arrived. I told myself all sorts of things, some pretty mean ("you don't want to be one of THOSE statistics"), but in the end, it was the right thing. I am so much happier.
Oh my.. Alexander. I feel this in my deepest of places.. my heart resonates in harmony with the kindness you offered your husband then, the patience you walked.
I hope that you never question the depth of your patience, nor the accommodations your love allows for, they are qualities within you that shine brightly with tenderness.
All this, and? I am glad for you that you knew you could no longer allow him time. There came a moment you were finally ready to say no more. And this moment didn’t come a second too late.
If you had not given him that patience, you might always second guess yourself.
Yes, I think if I had not offered him time and patience, I would have always second-guessed my hastiness. And it is not in my nature to force decisions on people.
Thank you for your kind words and empathy. They truly warmed my heart this morning 🩵
Avoided, still there.
Postponed, likely growing large.
Faced, painfully true.
Thank you, my friend. A truly beautiful articulation 🩵
Alex,
This was so good. Such a vulnerable and yes, honest, piece. It was like I was sitting across from you, and you were opening up about this part of your life. I have to say, I have wondered about it for a long time, but I didn't want to ask, because I didn't want to pry. The fact that you chose to open up publicly about what disintegrated your marriage is something I deeply admire. It's a courageous act.
So was owning your non-negotiable to have kids. That's courageous. So was the hard conversation in which you both had to confront what you had been avoiding. Also courageous.
I am realizing more and more that long marriage/partnership is really hard. No one has a clue when they make that commitment that one day they will have a spouse who ends up with a mental health crisis (me) or a child with a complicated medical diagnosis (Sarah) or a host of other unforeseen and unforeseeable challenges. I'm thinking as I type this of three close friends who have opened up to me about their marriages in the past year: one ended up in a psychiatric inpatient clinic for a week due to a psychotic break, after she separated from him after thirty years of marriage; one hasn't left yet but played a voice clip in which her husband verbally abused her and called her a fucking bitch; one left a long time ago but her ex is dragging on the divorce, which has caused a HUGE amount of legal debt for her.
I didn't know how divorce could sometimes be worse than staying married. I know sometimes it's not, but I think about it after these conversations, where my friends weep to me and I just hold their hands, tell them I'm here, check in with them periodically and in between our in-person get-togethers.
Children is a huge deal breaker. I have to admit I am relieved that Ben and I were always on the same page with that one. We both agreed to "have as many children as God gave us," but I ended up being the one who felt duped about going along with that. I never saw myself as a mom, didn't think I'd make a good one, and I struggle EVERY SINGLE DAY to respond to my kids with patience and empathy. Mostly, I want to yell, "What the hell do you think you're doing!" But I refrain. Ben is nonchalant and doesn't struggle as much as I do to keep his cool. He's the "fun" parent. He's the less strict of the two.
What I'm saying is that even though Ben and I agreed on the "having" children part of our relationship, we didn't exactly talk through the "raising" children part. It's sometimes a source of contention.
For us, it's not about avoiding hard conversations. It's the fact that there is seldom any repair and reconnection. We just have this huge, hurtful argument, and it simply ends abruptly. Then Ben acts like nothing at all happened, and we never revisit it. I can't let things like that go as easily. They compound for me.
All this to say that I think what you did was brave, Alex, and I'm sad your long marriage ended in divorce. I also know with every fiber of my being that you will be a fantastic father, and I deeply hope that longing gets to be fulfilled in your life one day.
Yes, I think marriage is one of those ultimate hardships. And to be together for a very long time... well, that is why the brain works so hard to addict one another to each other in the first place through "falling in love." Because the act of child rearing and staying with one another is so difficult, it must play a role in keeping people together. And the society goes and creates the institution of marriage, sealed with religious, social, cultural, and legal norms, to REALLY make it difficult to exit.
I think that is the worst part of what I study. I see marriage for what it is. And I see how early we start socializing our children into the religious, social, and cultural norms of marriage. So we have the biological part of ourselves that wants to be parents and produce offspring. And then the other part of ourselves that is a product of this socialization.
Growing up LDS is why I suspect I want a larger-than-normal-sized family, despite not following those teachings or participating in that culture anymore. From a very young age, I was taught that a larger family was desirable, and surrounded by large families. I can't shake it. Reality might get in the way, but it's interesting how deep that yearning goes, and I can pinpoint exactly where it comes from.
Thank you, my friend. I hope to make it a reality someday.
Thank you for sharing all of that, Alex. I'd like to speak more about this with you - religious upbringing/influence and family size.
Similarly, growing up Catholic, I was led to believe that larger families signified "holiness," because it meant the couple likely didn't contracept and "welcomed as many children as God gave" them.
Having tried to squish myself into this container, I can attest to its challenges.
I will also say, though, that I do think some people with certain personalities just really do well with a lot of children. I've witnessed it a lot, sometimes with envy, but I do think some parents just love having a lot of kids. I happen to struggle with it, but it might be that you'd do well with several. Who knows? If it works for some people, I genuinely admire that. I also recognize it's not everyone's reality.
Oh, Alex, the body always knows and lets us know it knows. I'm so sorry for your pain.
Thank you, Nancy. I appreciate that. But, the pain was a necessary part of my journey. It chose me. And, I'm grateful to have experienced my marriage. There were so many happy, joyful, moments. I would not have traded them in. 🩵
The body always knows. Even when we choose to ignore the message. So true.
It always knows. And it will remind us!
Extrapolated over the myriad of issues a couple can have, this is gold. Thank you for sharing something so poignant and painful. We tangle ourselves and each other in the external world, all to avoid looking within; the only place we can ever heal anything. When we take responsibility for other's feelings in the name of being kind, it seems to make such sense. We want to avoid causing them pain. That's what good people do right? But this post expertly delineates the inevitable head-on collision that results. It is a fabulous lesson we can all learn something so important from. Thank you, Alexander. 🙏🏻
Thank you, my friend. It's always a challenge - we try so hard to preserve others' feelings, often at the cost of our own. Well, no longer! I think the kindest thing we can do, for ourselves and for others, is to be authentic and honest.
There's a lot here, punchy hard-hitting lines and weight between the words. I can relate to pouring years into an intimate relationship and not wanting to break that spell. I think many live it ~ I hope you're feeling freer, happier and at peace... ✨