The Heartbreaking Truth I Learned About Marriage

I grew up as an only child, so finding ways to entertain myself is not new to me. I enjoy my own company and love pursuing creative endeavors like baking, painting, writing, reading, jewelry-making, and other crafty projects. But I've laughed the hardest with other people. Spending time with the right people around me feels more exhilarating than the quiet pleasure that comes with being on my own.

When I got married, I thought I would have an adventure buddy and built-in best friend to roll on the floor laughing together. I thought we would travel and share our dreams for the future, and build a path behind of us shared connection and experiences. I thought he'd be there, holding my hand when my balance was shaky, or I was standing on emotionally precarious ground. I thought he'd help pull me over the hurdles, or I'd supportively push him up the hill.

I never dreamed I'd feel so lonely.

Marriages work-or don't-for a multitude of reasons. A commitment of this caliber isn't usually entered into-or exited from-impulsively. We weigh our wants and needs and envision our future and how we want it to look. If the person beside us, in reality, is also in our dream of the future, we commit or deepen the commitment to them.

But what happens when we stop seeing a future with our partner in it?

When I think back to the last half of my marriage, I don't recall the laughter and exploration of the early days, or even the stagnant rhythm of the middle years. I remember a sense of emotional isolation. I remember feeling stuck, and sitting by myself at the kitchen counter eating a gluten-free lasagna I'd made from scratch-noodles included-because my ex decided he wasn't interested after all in the food I'd just spent five hours preparing.

I remember the idea evaporating of a house full of the laughter of our friends playing games, or our families crowded in for the holidays. I remember the tv always on in the background for a steady hum of noise, but deafening silence otherwise. I remember sleeping alone in a king-sized bed, my feet moving across the sheets, seeking the warmth of connection, but never finding it. I remember moving silently through my day, with only perfunctory conversation. I remember hopelessness and bereftness, and the loss of our shared dreams. I remember fantasizing that he would just…stop talking and go away (I never wished him harm; just disappearance). While I didn't pin all my hopes and needs on my ex and expect him alone to fulfill them, I still wasn't prepared to feel abandoned by his indifference, nor the ensuing guilt and wonder at whatever I did to provoke this. I wasn't prepared for the bleakness.

Not all relationships develop this chasm. I hope yours doesn't. I'm not anti-marriage nor commitment-phobic. But I am against stifling the thousands of papercuts of pain that you stuff down and hold inside to avoid conflict that can eventually cause you to bleed out. I'm more committed to authenticity-delivered with kindness-than I am to vows made on paper when I was too innocent to know the difference. I refuse to wade through life lonely. Given the choice, I'd rather just be alone.

We all change and grow over time. Experiences shape us, and each is a chance to connect us with our partner or add space between us. My ex and I didn't grow together, and I was naive to think that promising each other that we would grow together guaranteed a happy ending.

In retrospect, I don't know that there are such things as happy endings. If the journey was a happy one, the ending won't be. Endings, by definition, shake things up. The old crumples and dies to make way for the new.

So maybe, by divorcing me, my ex gave me a happy ending after all. He certainly paved the way for my thrilling journey with my new love. This time around, I won't make the same mistakes. I won't shrink who I am so that I don't outshine my partner. I won't stifle my creativity because it's too much for him to handle, or bite my tongue when boundaries are crossed because I don't want to rock the boat. I won't pretend I'm okay when it's obvious I'm not. I won't expect him to be a mind reader, nor will I try futilely to read his mind. I won't make assumptions or hold expectations that we don't discuss. I won't have a lonely marriage.

I will continue on this journey with my love and remain committed to living a connected, joyful, and authentic life.