It’s sad to say, but my husband and I have speculated. We’ve read the statistics and always come to the same conclusion: how on earth could the number be so high? Then we joined the ranks of thirty-somethings, and suddenly we watched the number take shape and become real.
It’s the whole car wreck phenomenon I suppose- you stare hoping to both see fully the carnage yet rest comfortably in your own steel cocoon knowing that you have gone unscathed. My husband and I would think about our married friends and wonder if the tentacles of divorce would somehow be powerless against our circle. Sure we would question the effectiveness of some friends’ communication skills. Question the alignment of their interests. Consider their motives for marrying. But very rarely did we ever agree adamantly that a couple was destined to fall short of death being the impetus for their demise. And always I would take solace in the cocoon that my husband and I had so carefully and intricately woven over the past ten years. Thinking never.
Funny thing is as the conversation surrounding divorce went from the abstract- snippets on Oprah, articles in magazines, bitter divorcees on talk radio programs- to the real lives of families we had eaten dinner with, celebrated holidays with, and welcomed new babies into the world with it began to eat at me. Suddenly the lives of those moving from the married to the divorced category were not so foreign and eerily similar, at least from the outside looking in, to my own. My once unshakable faith in my own marriage, not because of any particular problem or hardship, was now being questioned.
Could my husband just wake up one morning and decide that he wanted out? That he wasn’t in love with me anymore? That he wanted the freedom of commitment-free living? That he had found someone else to replace me? Or could I? My father, never short on advice and vehemently convinced that age imparts wisdom, once told me that people don’t change- much; I’m sure hoping that he’s right.
So if I buy into his truth, that people don’t change, my line of questioning changes. Do people enter into marriage wearing blinders or steeped in denial? Do they have a visceral or carnal sense that screams “No” as they approach the alter but choose to focus on the smiles and tears of joy that usher them down the aisle on the wedding day instead? Don’t get me wrong- the lure of a wedding can be intoxicating and the shame of a cancellation unthinkable, perhaps for some even more unthinkable than filing for divorce.
So as the category of divorcees in my own circle becomes more robust, I’m convinced and encouraged to keep building my own marriage. Even amongst the chaos that is life in the present- two children, a husband who works entirely too much, running a business, playdates and parties, keeping the house from going to shambles, creating a balance of culture, exposure and free play for our children, keeping the family spiritually grounded, trying to cook gourmet meals, and holding it down in the bedroom (yeah, just imagine if this all actually got done)- I realize that without the solidity of our relationship, everything else falls by the wayside. And for me, I have to trust that the voice that screamed, “Yes, this is absolutely right,” some eleven years ago was genuine, knowing that my husband heard and believes the same.
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