“I never expected us to stay in love. Being ‘in love’ is just an emotion. It comes and goes. But loving someone is a commitment, and if it’s real, it lasts. That’s what I expected, and I love you.”
Just shy of a year of marriage, hearing these words, however sincere and well-intended, come out of DH’s mouth, I was utterly stupefied, and my aching heart sank to a new low. What? He’d never expected we’d stay in love? Why? When? Wait, what?? There I stood, tear-streaked face and all, having just confessed my profound loneliness and disillusionment, lamenting euphoric dating and honeymoon days-gone-by and questioning whether we were still in love, and that was DH’s response. Seriously. What happened to us? Somehow, somewhere, at some indeterminate point in time, the simple pleasures, affections and dreams that had bound us so tightly before had faded; life together now seemed so sober – all work and responsibilities, peaceful co-habitation but without that warm and fuzzy sense of togetherness.
I’m not gonna lie. DH’s stoic response will probably remain ingrained in my memory until I die. But it carries remarkably less sting now. Even more astonishing, I’ve grown to appreciate, even agree with, what he stated so matter-of-factly that day, because over the years I’ve had the chance – no, many chances – to witness his truth. You see, back then, in my mind, DH’s response couldn’t have seemed more callous or unfeeling, but when I consider the calm, frank, logical manner in which he handles – well , just about everything – in his mind, he was simply reaffirming a sacred covenant of honesty, perseverance and loyalty to me. And for all I’ve known and seen, he’s kept that promise.
Clearly, between the two of us, DH is the introverted pragmatist and I, the extroverted romantic. We’re more of an “opposites attract” couple than a “we have so much in common” one. Regardless, as with many fast and furious romances, our whirlwind infatuation eventually hit its peak too and we slowly came back down to earth. Reality beckoned. Thus, shortly before our wedding, to be prudent, save money and live simply, we moved a good distance from our jobs (a 45-minute commute for me and 1.5 hour commute for him, each one-way) and from our friends and church (i.e., our community and support networks). That move certainly helped our savings, but not so much our relationship. DH, as patient as he is, can’t stand traffic. So after spending 8 -10 hours managing patients, their families, nurses and residents, and driving in heavy traffic three hours a day, he often came home tired (cranky) and seeking solitude. I, on the other hand, having spent 8-10 hours in my office negotiating real estate deals and drafting and redrafting contracts, came home hungry for lively conversation and company. Far from friends now, I had no one but DH to fill that need, a heavy and unfair burden for anyone to bear alone. What’s more, we’d set off on our “new life together” in his old childhood home — the house where his late father (not yet middle-aged but ill and wise enough to plan for the worst) taught a young DH countless tinkering and household repair skills, and where DH, upon his dad’s passing, had had to transform prematurely from boy to man overnight. I wondered whether DH’s solemnness during our years was stirred by sad memories of his father’s illness and passing and the family’s worries and burdens surrounding that. He never thought so, but I can’t see how it couldn’t have.
Combine work stress, long commutes, isolation from friends and support networks, heavy childhood memories, job changes, a pregnancy, a move, more babies, the demands of taxing professions and raising young kids, never enough time for it all, and there you have it – unadulterated and in many ways even privileged, first-world, GROWN-UP LIFE. So reality checked me alright. So much so that I found myself repeatedly lapsing into bouts of intense loneliness and melancholy. I could still go about my daily business, but my optimism and cheerfulness of former years had burned out.
I’m assuming you’ve heard of “the seven-year-itch” (nowadays, the “five- to seven-year itch”):
“a psychological term that suggests that happiness in a relationship declines after around year seven of a marriage”. It can even be “analyzed quantitatively. Divorce rates show a trend in couples that, on average, divorce around seven years. Statistics show that there is a low risk of separation during the first months of marriage. After the ‘honeymoon’ months, divorce rates start to increase. Most married couples experience a gradual decline in the quality of their marriage; in recent years around the fourth year of marriage. Around the seventh year, tensions rise to a point that couples either divorce or adapt to their partner [italics added].”
Yup. Sounds about right. By the time DH and I hit year five, I wasn’t sure we were gonna make it. Everything seemed fine, perhaps even great, on the outside. We’d bought ourselves a beautiful townhouse, we were a great tag-team as parents, we had well-paying jobs, we dutifully went to church every Sunday, and we rarely argued. But we also rarely spoke anymore, rarely shared or discussed non-kid-related matters that meant something to one of us. And when we did share, we (especially I) weren’t even good listeners. Either distracted by our own thoughts or busyness, or emotionally detached from the subject, we were neither engaged nor engaging. We weren’t “getting” each other – what touches, enthralls, saddens, interests, or motivates the other. And we didn’t speak each other’s “love languages”.
I was desperately lonely and discontent (*themes I’ll write more about, outside the limited context of marriage, in the future) and had lost hope that DH and I would ever have a fulfilling marriage. So one day, I packed some things and told DH I was leaving, taking the kids to my folks’ “until I could figure things out.” He finally grasped the gravity of my unhappiness. He said that if I’m talking separation, shouldn’t we “at least give it our 200% first and try marital counseling” (the very thing I’d suggested and he’d discounted as hokey-pokey time and again over the years).
A few days later, he called to tell me that he’d looked into some counseling options and wanted my opinion. I came back. We started seeing an experienced, pragmatic and sympathetic but not gushy therapist whom we both found agreeable. We had weekly counseling for about eight months. It helped tremendously. But therapy alone didn’t save us.
To this day, I’m deeply grateful that we had our faith, our values, our kids (two at the time), loving parents, and some key supportive, prayerful friends, to help get us through that damn “itch” and to the point of choosing to “adapt” rather than “divorce”. Circumstances helped too. The real estate market crash of 2008 affected everyone tied to the industry. I was laid off at the end of the year. With an abrupt, forced stop to “firm life” for me, my stress levels dropped significantly, which surprisingly lessened DH’s stress (even though it meant less financial security for us) and allowed me to finally enjoy family life and manage domestic life with energy and competence. You know the saying, right? “If mama ain’t happy, ain’t no one happy.” (Preach!)
Ultimately, God saved us. Rather, He saved me. I’ve since learned, or accepted, that I was born with a hole in my heart – a God-sized and God-shaped hole. And I can spend however much of my time, energy, money and focus trying to fill that hole with other things – marriage, family, fame, fortune, friends, travel, diversions, nice things, beautiful clothes, and so on and so on – and sometimes I manage to shove, squeeze, push and pull just so, to kinda sorta plug that hole with some of those things. But, it never lasts. Eventually, those things just pop right back out. Because nothing – not one thing or combination of things – is shaped or sized to fit that hole perfectly and permanently except my God. He loved me first, He’ll love me last, He loves me best. No one else has been, nor will be, with me and for me, the entirety of my life.
I love DH and he loves me. He’s not “my world” and I’m not his. We please one another, we displease one another. We impress one another, we disappoint one another. We help one another, we neglect one another. We understand one another, we disagree with one another. Either way, we’re committed. We’re here. We love one another. Love remains beautifully, painfully and imperfectly real. And if I had all to do over again, I still choose DH.
Sarah Beth says
This sounds so much like many of the people I know. They just kind of co-exist. Being a young adult is hard!
Sarah Koontz {Grounded & Surrounded} says
What a MASSIVELY important message Anita! Thank you for sharing your brutally honest story. We all have a God sized hole in our hearts and one of the biggest mistakes women make is to look to their career, kids or hubby to fill that hole. The BEST marriages are the ones where two complete individuals decided to share their full and complete self with one another and with their children but never rely upon each other to feel complete. I was fortunate to marry an older guy (yeah, he robbed that cradle!) and we had already learned this lesson on failed previous relationships…so we set out to do it right, and 10 years later there ‘aint no itches! Stay on the path you are on and, before you know it, you will be that old crazy couple who still PDA’s and grosses out the grand-kids with their love every chance they get 😉
Anita says
Sarah, blessings to you for your and your husband’s wisdom! I wish I had learned this lesson before marriage myself but am grateful to have learned it late than never at all. Thank you for the encouragement and comment as well.
Hi Anita,
Thank you for sharing your story…
Your DH reminds me of myself. My wife has called me “Stoic” on more than one occasion. It’s not that I don’t feel… but that I have that calm nature and it’s extremely tough to rattle me. The problem was that my wife wasn’t feeling loved because I didn’t express affection very often. She took similar steps to distance herself from me, which I now count as a BLESSING because it WOKE ME UP to do some serious soul searching and developing. I am leading… I am expressing… and my wife will never again question my love for her.
David.
Oh, David. (Sorry, couldn’t help myself – love them David Shannon books.) DAVID. Your comment alone made my spilling my pained guts to the whole world worth it. I feel you, because I get my husband better now. It’s not that he’s stoic. In fact, he scored pretty high on those EI (emotional intelligence) tests. He just…isn’t expressive. But THANK YOU, on behalf of ALL wives who feel that their husbands can be distant, for caring enough to do that soul-searching and growing and leading and expressing. YES – may your wife NEVER again question your love for her, and may you never have to question hers either. Blessings to you both, my friend!
I love your honesty…Awesome post, thank you for sharing! Have a wonderful weekend!! xx Ashleigh @SimplyWright
“Love remains beautifully, painfully and imperfectly real. ” Love that.
Great post, Anita! I can relate to many of your stories here.
Oh, it’s encouraging to know that husbands and fathers can relate too. Thanks, Gene. 🙂
As I lay next to my toddler reading this, I’m crying because there’s someone out there who went through what I’m going through!! I was told being a wife and a mom will be the loneliest journey I would take in my life but I disregarded that thinking I was never going to be THAT woman. And as I try to seek God and start counseling, I can’t help but to wonder what life would be just by myself. It was a terrible experience getting to the alter(due to families coming together) but I never thought I had to fight to want to stay married. Thank you, for your encouraging IGs and blogs.
Thanks so much for sharing, J. It’s true, isn’t it? No one and nothing prepares us, or CAN fully prepare us, really, for wifehood and motherhood. And it IS a lonely journey at times (although, to be honest, I think each individual life is ultimately a solitary journey and thus inevitably will feel lonely at times, regardless of station or stage in life). But I commend and encourage you – it’s a wonderful, courageous, hopeful thing that you are seeking God and counseling. It helped me, us, tremendously. And I’ll be praying for you too, sister. xoxo.
You have expressed so beautifully what I have been feeling for so long. Not too many women are willing to share those thoughts for fear of feeling vulnerable or weak. When I have tried to in the past many of my friends didn’t know how to support or respond to me. That left me feeling very isolated and lonely. But your blog has made me feel validated. I appreciate your honesty and humor. I look forward to reading more of your thoughts on life, love, marriage and parenthood! And I love how you write! You inspire me!
It saddened and touched me to read your comment, which I appreciate so much by the way, because I know what it is to feel like you have no one to share those more painful, vulnerable experiences or thoughts with, and even worse, to share them without getting any empathy or comfort in return. I’m so happy that what I shared made you feel validated in some way and I hope and pray you are no longer in a place of loneliness or despair. If ever you’d like to share or discuss more in private, my email address can be found in my “About” page on the blog. Blessings for you, friend.
I met you on IG not too long ago and this is my first time reading your blog. I love this entry for your honesty and candidness. I recently celebrated my 10th wedding anniversary by renewing our vows with our two little ones..and I cried like a little baby from a mix of such strong emotions! Marriage is like that, full of ups and downs that we would never otherwise know. Thanks for your post, it really brings my marriage back into perspective– once again. We too, had marriage counseling, even went through intensive couples retreat and survived ten years. It was imperfect at best but we made it, and if I had to choose again, I’d choose Him again in a heartbeat…well, most of the time. 😉
https://www.mommy-diary.com/marriage/on-our-10-year-anniversary
Happy we connected, Angela, and thanks for checking out the blog! I can only imagine how emotional it was renewing your vows; I would’ve cried like a babe myself. Ha! Because yes, marriage is so unlike any other relationship, isn’t it? Filled with incomparable joys, lessons, sacrifices, and tests. As Sam Keen wrote, “You come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly.” Maybe we’d choose our husbands again because we finally see them perfectly? Hopefully, they see us the same way. 😉
I so love your honesty, humor, and writing style, Anita! Can’t wait til you write a book! hint, hint. 🙂
Loneliness is something I’ve felt off an on in my life and it usually indicates my hunger for a deep spiritual awareness and connection. Life has become my journey to build, strengthen, and evolve that connection. Every day. I feel enriched from reading your post today.
Thanks for your kindness and insight, Trish. I have a feeling many of us struggle, or have struggled, with loneliness and I suspect most or all of us feel it b/c of an unfulfilled spiritual need more than a human relational one. Love that you stay conscious of it and seek it daily.
There will always be peaks and valleys, but it only gets better! A good litmus test is the amount of teenage eye rolling you get. (We get a lot…sometimes, they have no words and just shake their heads before having to leave the room. Also good. Lol) You look great btw!
Ha! Thanks, Kathy. I’ll let you know when we get to any eye-rolling. (They may be too young for that yet, thank God.) And yes, peaks and valleys, peaks and valleys. xoxo