He Hates Me

I met my first husband in my early teens and began dating a couple years later, while still teens in high school. We fell in love hard. Years after beginning our love story, still so very young, I was just waiting and waiting for him to finally pop the question.  I so badly wanted to get married and couldn’t wait.  I now know, that I was so excited for a wedding, but I (we) really had no clue what the fuck a marriage entailed.  Sure, I had amazing parents that were still together, and so did he, but it didn’t mean I (we) knew what it meant. I thought we were so grown when we got married.  We both were in our careers, we had bought a house a few years earlier. But we were 23 and 24.  Babies.  But we had what we always wanted.  We were in love.  And that's all that mattered.

Our love story continued to grow for 16 years. We had 3 children.  We had done everything “right”; we went to school, graduated, bought a house, got engaged, got married then had children.

And then....my husband told me he hated me. He told me that he can find happiness with his family, his friends and our children, but cannot find happiness with me.  He says he loves me but doesn’t think our marriage is going to work.  “Over the years I’ve lost that feeling towards you.  I was scared for this to come.”  

All of these were said, not in the heat of an argument, or with a raised voice; but in a far worse way, calmly. 

At first I just thought he was blowing off steam.  It had been a rough year.  I pushed and pushed for him to talk to me for so long.  During the year, I chalked it up as just going through a rough patch.  The baby stage was always tricky. Always. We were so busy.  I busted my ass to have a spotless house and have delicious home cooked meals. I tried to curb things that were “triggers”.  I would have people come over and say “Don’t you have 3 kids? And a baby? Your house is so tidy and clean”.  I took pride in this. Was I always like this? No, it was an ebb and flow of being a full time out of the house employee and a mother of young ones. And truthfully, some days, I didn't care what the house was like when the kids were really little. I was also in survival mode at times- get through this baby, toddler and young kid stage...it'll get better.

When he finally “opened up”, I truly didn’t expect to hear those words and I certainly didn't expect to hear “I think we should separate”.   I truly, honestly didn’t.

I asked if we were going to work on it, if there was something we could be doing….counselling? Talking more?  He initially agreed.  He said he didn’t want to actually separate, he didn’t want our marriage to end, he wanted our family to work.   I had hope.  I had hope that whatever it was that had been bothering him would finally come to light; in a discussion we could have in a safe and open environment.  He’s just frustrated.  He’s just been focusing on what was irritating him instead of all the positive around him.  That was it. 

Think about it, this happens.  It happens so much.  You get focused on the negative….and dwell on it. And think about it. All. The. Time. And before you know it, you cannot see ANYTHING other than the negative.  How many times could I bitch about the beard trimmings in the sink? It’s a ridiculous thing. And it starts out as something so miniscule.   At first, it’s like, ok, just rinse them away.  Then it was “how hard is it to do this?” while complaining about it.  It starts to eat away.  You think “if you respected me, you’d rinse away your fucking beard trimmings instead of leaving them in the sink”.  Pretty soon, the thought of looking at his goddamn facial hair had taken over and I loathed that stupid thing.  But did I? Of course not, hell no in fact.  But my mind focused ONLY on that.  And it became so infuriating that I stopped recognizing the rest of what he did.  I got it. I understand how it works. BUT I also know that it takes effort to change how you’re thinking about it.  To understand that you don’t love the person you’re with because they lack flaws, you love them IN SPITE of their flaws.  You understand that they aren’t perfect, just as they understand you aren’t perfect.  You accept those imperfections because truly, in the grand scheme of things, are they REALLY THAT TERRIBLE?  Now I’m not talking about accepting people being terrible people.  I’m not talking about people doing terrible, disrespectful, rude, demeaning, detrimental things.
 I’m talking about the fact that every single person is an individual and every single person doesn’t do or live the same way.  So, is it REALLY so terrible that someone had left beard trimmings in the sink? Did it make him a terrible dad? A terrible person? Of course not.  Does it make me a terrible person that I drop the f-bomb? Or that I sometimes leave my plate and cup on the end table at night until the next morning?  Does it make me an unbelievable person because I don’t like to vacuum? Blech.  If I could never vacuum a day in my life, I would be so fucking happy.   Of course it doesn’t.  So, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. 

Know what does matter? TALKING.  COMMUNICATING.  BEING OPEN. 

Because when you do those things, those little insignificant things can STAY little, insignificant things before you focus so much on them, they become mountains.

Insurmountable mountains of insignificant things.

And it was now, that I realized we were lacking climbing gear.