They looked at me like I had sprouted three heads. I had blurted out the first thing that came to my mind when I read the question and now I was receiving looks of shock, bewilderment, distress. I was used to a little shock and discomfort when I drop an F-bomb, but I hadn’t this time.
We were sitting in the basement of our church like we did every week for countless years. These women and I have been through so much together. We have born our scars to each other, cried, laughed, complained about our husbands and our kids, given advice about both, held hands and each other in prayer. There was little we hadn’t experienced together reading these books about spirituality and womanhood and having discussions about both. Most of us were in the same “season of life” with our kids in the same classes and our marriages hitting nearly the same anniversaries.
So I was more than a little unprepared for their reaction to my answer to the question. Especially since I hadn’t cursed at all.
The question: What is your greatest temptation in marriage? My answer: Divorce.
My husband and I were coming out of the darkest period in our marriage thus far. Light was filtering in and we were doing our best to link arms and resolve and make it out on the other side. But we were still a long way from “happy.” We were unsure then if our polite interactions, shared values, and love for our kids were the best we could hope for. It was far better than the bitter silence or screaming matches or terse sidestep we had been performing before, but definitely not what we thought we were getting when we said our vows.
It wasn’t a secret to this group of women that my marriage had been struggling. They were one of the only people in the world who knew I had been looking for an apartment at one point. But they were incredulous that day when I admitted that divorce could be such a temptation for me. “I can’t even imagine thinking that!!,” they all told me.
But I couldn’t imagine not contemplating it. The thought of not having to worry about what someone else is doing with their lives or how that impacted my life for the better or the worse. “If he would only ______” “If I could just ______” “Why do I have to care?” “It’s not fair that ________” “Why can’t he _______” “Why do I have to ______”
Combining two lives is hard. Two human beings with different backgrounds, different needs, different experiences. Different expectations.
It was made harder because our lives were not actually combined. Our schedules had us living completely separate lives. He was home long enough to eat a meal I had to cook, leave a mess in my house, and paw after me. I was around him long enough to make a demand, give a to-do list, and say no, get away from me.
Marriage needs connection. Connection needs time. Our busy lives and all that we fill it with take that away. The reasons we have less time cause an additional level of stress. In our case it was money – working more hours to make more money to stay afloat. Separation sprinkled with bitterness layered with resentment and a heaping scoop of anxiety. A recipe for disaster. A recipe for divorce.
When I told my husband that night after women’s group of their reaction he blurted his own answer: “Bullshit!” he said, “They’ve thought it too!” I argued that they would have said so if they had. We’ve revealed so much to each other there’s no way they would hide it. “Everyone thinks it, but no one admits this stuff,” he replied.
Maybe they should.
Maybe more marriages could be saved. Maybe more people could be saved. Maybe if we could admit that things were hard and asked for help and heard an “Oh I felt that way too before and here’s how we worked through it…” Maybe if the first “option” thrown out there wasn’t divorce. If help and empathy could be offered rather than excuses for an out. Maybe marriages could weather the downs and come out better and stronger on the other side. Maybe people and hearts could be changed and mended. Maybe…
But first we have to admit when our marriages aren’t perfect. Or good. Or even remotely tolerable. Because it does happen. And it shouldn’t be a shock. Or a secret.