unmarried. a blog
"Tell the truth about what it's like to be human."
- Cheryl Strayed
Standing in the middle of our quiet kitchen prepping dinner together, I stopped and looked at Jim. A firefighter, he must’ve felt the burn because he glanced up.
What's the matter, hon?
That’s all it took. My blood, as hot as liquid magma, rushed to my face as my lips parted. At once, all my truths came bursting out of how I hated him for always putting his job first, of how I loathed my role of being his wife, and finally admitted the picture-perfect suburban life we created was choking the actual life out of me. This, on a day that should have been celebratory as it was the worldwide release of my debut novel titled, F.D.N. Wives. A day where I thought we’d go out and champion a major accomplishment, my major accomplishment, but was met with a “money’s tight” response.
This remark was on the heels of a trial-and-error period where I previously expressed the severe lack of affection and the lather, rinse, repeat cycle of our coupling.
Revealing this deep secret of my sadness, this "malaise of the middle" of our fourteen-year relationship was hard.
We did try. But after a year that consisted of counseling, attempts at dating, and even a trip to Disney (with-and-for the kids), we couldn't salvage what I knew was unsalvageable. And the "money's tight" was confirmation of it.
There's a saying about greener pastures, about leaving to find something better. I'm not removing myself from the marriage to find anything "better," rather I'm looking to regain my independence. An identity that requires what it took to be a wife which, at least for me, is reminiscent to a karate student working toward a black belt.