Member-only story
Reflections on Identity
Should I Have Stayed in My Marriage?
How I am accepting that I couldn’t, and how much it hurts
Four years ago, my marriage flatlined when I learned that my husband of twenty-two years was having an affair. This was not a casual one-night stand; he had fallen in love with another woman, had fantasized about a life with her and, by extension, without me.
His texts to her, which I found after snooping on his phone, were permeated with frustration: she was young, single and childless and could not understand how deep his entanglements were. Being with him added to her life; for him, being with her would soon be measured by loss — of his wife, extended family, circle of friends, home, and for quite some time, children.
Even before he ended their relationship, he started grieving it, having come to the realization that blowing up his life would be more monumental than the shake-up he had expected. I learned this from the texts, but it confirmed the unease I had been feeling for months. He was a balloon slowly drifting away, not tied to my wrist anymore but not yet lost to the clouds either.
He hadn’t counted on me not being there to receive him when he decided he was ready to float back home.
