On Relationships
New York Times article

Though this piece was written about a spouse, I can relate to it in a more universal way …my take is below.

Modern Love
Those Aren’t Fighting Words, Dear

By LAURA A. MUNSON
Published: July 31, 2009

LET’S say you have what you believe to be a healthy marriage. You’re still friends and lovers after spending more than half of your lives together. The dreams you set out to achieve in your 20s — gazing into each other’s eyes in candlelit city bistros when you were single and skinny — have for the most part come true.

Two decades later you have the 20 acres of land, the farmhouse, the children, the dogs and horses. You’re the parents you said you would be, full of love and guidance. You’ve done it all: Disneyland, camping, Hawaii, Mexico, city living, stargazing.

Sure, you have your marital issues, but on the whole you feel so self-satisfied about how things have worked out that you would never, in your wildest nightmares, think you would hear these words from your husband one fine summer day: “I don’t love you anymore. I’m not sure I ever did. I’m moving out. The kids will understand. They’ll want me to be happy.”

But wait. This isn’t the divorce story you think it is. Neither is it a begging-him-to-stay story. It’s a story about hearing your husband say “I don’t love you anymore” and deciding not to believe him. And what can happen as a result.

Here’s a visual: Child throws a temper tantrum. Tries to hit his mother. But the mother doesn’t hit back, lecture or punish. Instead, she ducks. Then she tries to go about her business as if the tantrum isn’t happening. She doesn’t “reward” the tantrum. She simply doesn’t take the tantrum personally because, after all, it’s not about her.

Let me be clear: I’m not saying my husband was throwing a child’s tantrum. No. He was in the grip of something else — a profound and far more troubling meltdown that comes not in childhood but in midlife, when we perceive that our personal trajectory is no longer arcing reliably upward as it once did. But I decided to respond the same way I’d responded to my children’s tantrums. And I kept responding to it that way. For four months.

“I don’t love you anymore. I’m not sure I ever did.”

His words came at me like a speeding fist, like a sucker punch, yet somehow in that moment I was able to duck. And once I recovered and composed myself, I managed to say, “I don’t buy it.” Because I didn’t.

He drew back in surprise. Apparently he’d expected me to burst into tears, to rage at him, to threaten him with a custody battle. Or beg him to change his mind.

So he turned mean. “I don’t like what you’ve become.”

Gut-wrenching pause. How could he say such a thing? That’s when I really wanted to fight. To rage. To cry. But I didn’t.

Instead, a shroud of calm enveloped me, and I repeated those words: “I don’t buy it.”

You see, I’d recently committed to a non-negotiable understanding with myself. I’d committed to “The End of Suffering.” I’d finally managed to exile the voices in my head that told me my personal happiness was only as good as my outward success, rooted in things that were often outside my control. I’d seen the insanity of that equation and decided to take responsibility for my own happiness. And I mean all of it.

My husband hadn’t yet come to this understanding with himself. He had enjoyed many years of hard work, and its rewards had supported our family of four all along. But his new endeavor hadn’t been going so well, and his ability to be the breadwinner was in rapid decline. He’d been miserable about this, felt useless, was losing himself emotionally and letting himself go physically. And now he wanted out of our marriage; to be done with our family.

But I wasn’t buying it.

I said: “It’s not age-appropriate to expect children to be concerned with their parents’ happiness. Not unless you want to create co-dependents who’ll spend their lives in bad relationships and therapy. There are times in every relationship when the parties involved need a break. What can we do to give you the distance you need, without hurting the family?”

“Huh?” he said.

“Go trekking in Nepal. Build a yurt in the back meadow. Turn the garage studio into a man-cave. Get that drum set you’ve always wanted. Anything but hurting the children and me with a reckless move like the one you’re talking about.”

Then I repeated my line, “What can we do to give you the distance you need, without hurting the family?”

“Huh?”

“How can we have a responsible distance?”

“I don’t want distance,” he said. “I want to move out.”

My mind raced. Was it another woman? Drugs? Unconscionable secrets? But I stopped myself. I would not suffer.

Instead, I went to my desk, Googled “responsible separation” and came up with a list. It included things like: Who’s allowed to use what credit cards? Who are the children allowed to see you with in town? Who’s allowed keys to what?

I looked through the list and passed it on to him.

His response: “Keys? We don’t even have keys to our house.”

I remained stoic. I could see pain in his eyes. Pain I recognized.

“Oh, I see what you’re doing,” he said. “You’re going to make me go into therapy. You’re not going to let me move out. You’re going to use the kids against me.”

“I never said that. I just asked: What can we do to give you the distance you need … ”

“Stop saying that!”

Well, he didn’t move out.

Instead, he spent the summer being unreliable. He stopped coming home at his usual six o’clock. He would stay out late and not call. He blew off our entire Fourth of July — the parade, the barbecue, the fireworks — to go to someone else’s party. When he was at home, he was distant. He wouldn’t look me in the eye. He didn’t even wish me “Happy Birthday.”

But I didn’t play into it. I walked my line. I told the kids: “Daddy’s having a hard time as adults often do. But we’re a family, no matter what.” I was not going to suffer. And neither were they.

MY trusted friends were irate on my behalf. “How can you just stand by and accept this behavior? Kick him out! Get a lawyer!”

I walked my line with them, too. This man was hurting, yet his problem wasn’t mine to solve. In fact, I needed to get out of his way so he could solve it.

I know what you’re thinking: I’m a pushover. I’m weak and scared and would put up with anything to keep the family together. I’m probably one of those women who would endure physical abuse. But I can assure you, I’m not. I load 1,500-pound horses into trailers and gallop through the high country of Montana all summer. I went through Pitocin-induced natural childbirth. And a Caesarean section without follow-up drugs. I am handy with a chain saw.

I simply had come to understand that I was not at the root of my husband’s problem. He was. If he could turn his problem into a marital fight, he could make it about us. I needed to get out of the way so that wouldn’t happen.

Privately, I decided to give him time. Six months.

I had good days, and I had bad days. On the good days, I took the high road. I ignored his lashing out, his merciless jabs. On bad days, I would fester in the August sun while the kids ran through sprinklers, raging at him in my mind. But I never wavered. Although it may sound ridiculous to say “Don’t take it personally” when your husband tells you he no longer loves you, sometimes that’s exactly what you have to do.

Instead of issuing ultimatums, yelling, crying or begging, I presented him with options. I created a summer of fun for our family and welcomed him to share in it, or not — it was up to him. If he chose not to come along, we would miss him, but we would be just fine, thank you very much. And we were.

And, yeah, you can bet I wanted to sit him down and persuade him to stay. To love me. To fight for what we’ve created. You can bet I wanted to.

But I didn’t.

I barbecued. Made lemonade. Set the table for four. Loved him from afar.

And one day, there he was, home from work early, mowing the lawn. A man doesn’t mow his lawn if he’s going to leave it. Not this man. Then he fixed a door that had been broken for eight years. He made a comment about our front porch needing paint. Our front porch. He mentioned needing wood for next winter. The future. Little by little, he started talking about the future.

It was Thanksgiving dinner that sealed it. My husband bowed his head humbly and said, “I’m thankful for my family.”

He was back.

And I saw what had been missing: pride. He’d lost pride in himself. Maybe that’s what happens when our egos take a hit in midlife and we realize we’re not as young and golden anymore.

When life’s knocked us around. And our childhood myths reveal themselves to be just that. The truth feels like the biggest sucker-punch of them all: it’s not a spouse or land or a job or money that brings us happiness. Those achievements, those relationships, can enhance our happiness, yes, but happiness has to start from within. Relying on any other equation can be lethal.

My husband had become lost in the myth. But he found his way out. We’ve since had the hard conversations. In fact, he encouraged me to write about our ordeal. To help other couples who arrive at this juncture in life. People who feel scared and stuck. Who believe their temporary feelings are permanent. Who see an easy out, and think they can escape.

My husband tried to strike a deal. Blame me for his pain. Unload his feelings of personal disgrace onto me.

But I ducked. And I waited. And it worked.

Laura A. Munson is a writer who lives in Whitefish, Mont.

People are people, and that is the issue; sometimes they change. Or in some cases they never do.

It took me years to realize that I wasn’t so omnipotent that I was the cause of the world’s problems, or, that I wasn’t the cause of anyone else’s problems. I also learned that I can’t solve another person’s issues especially if the person doesn’t want to solve them, or even recognize that there is one.

When someone has an issue, it is their issue. For years I didn’t get it. I was too busy feeling guilty and assuming responsibility for others. Bearing that weight is very hard work, in fact, it is enervating, anxiety provoking, painful.

When I read this article I was very moved by the author’s declaration of “The End of Suffering.” This is such an important journey; it is the apex, an achievement, a life’s lesson. It is a declaration that the eggshells walked on throughout life are empty and there is nothing left of the inside that used to provide nourishment. Let them fly off into the wind along with guilt, the need to please, to be the good girl everyone expects you to be.

Could this be a woman’s thing? It is probably not gender related but I do think it is more common in women. It is the nurturer in us that kicks in and tries to make everything OK. But, there is just so much that we can do for others: we can’t take away their problems, change their moods, relieve their pain, alter their personalities especially if they are not in touch with themselves. Especially if they don’t communicate.

We can’t do their emotional growing, steer them off their collision course. It’s their responsibility to assume responsibility.

Declaring an end of pain is an evolutionary process: to buy the ticket, find our runway and take flight to the place called, “The End of Suffering,” is a journey in itself.

When we return from our own trip, we just might be met at the airport. And if not, there’s always a taxi.

reply bogieface wrote on Aug 7, ’09 third time seeing this article today….I think many divorces could have been avoided by just remembering much of this…people change and sometimes do need that time away to allow for where they want to put it…

reply greenwytch wrote on Aug 7, ’09 very, very insightful. i can totally relate…..heaven knows, luis and i have both been there, and done that. thanks…….and HUGS

reply astranavigo08 wrote on Aug 7, ’09 My asshole ex-wife said those very words to me.My response?”So, the last 19 years were nothing but a very expensive mistake. Thanks.”She left the next weekend.I learned a lot of lessons by that — chief of which was this: Don’t buy the lie. “Marriage” is an invention – a canard, created by people. Period. When you go to bed, you go to bed alone – no matter who’s there, and for how long.

reply starfishred wrote on Aug 7, ’09 “When we return from our own trip, we just might be met at the airport. And if not, there’s always a taxi.”great blog great thought and I love the last sentence-great ending or begining

reply lilyiris wrote on Aug 7, ’09 This is the case in many long-distance relationships too… they flame out after awhile.My most recent ex (from a LDR) is much like the man in this article. He distanced himself, wouldn’t take my calls, wouldn’t answer my emails. Any communication between us had to be on his terms only. I wish I had been as strong as the woman who wrote this. I’m becoming more like her though- I finally gave him his space.I think that when he finally does make contact with me again, we’re going to have to re-meet each other. I know I’ve changed a lot during his absence, and I’m sure he has, as well.My biggest hope may never come true, concerning us… though my second best hope is that we can recreate a secure friendship over time and be there to catch each other’s fall… even if it remains to be from hundreds of miles away physically.

reply sweetpotatoqueen wrote on Aug 7, ’09 Great article !! It does take a very big dose of selflessness to wait out the crisis of those who are part of our lives…sometimes the crisis passes,sometimes it doesn’t. I do think women are masters of smoothing over emotional matters in relationships and often are hesitant to fulfill their own needs. Most people are about as happy with life as they make up their minds to be…I think this applies to relationships as well.

reply notajones wrote on Aug 7, ’09 Having some turbulent times here. Thank you. and hi

reply lunarechoes wrote on Aug 7, ’09 There is a Buddhist saying that says something like pain is unavoidable, but suffering is not. It’s a choice,I don’t think this woman is weak. And I do agree that the “I don’t love you, I don’t know if I never did” thing is seldom true–even the first part of it.What is key to what this woman did is that she took care of herself and her children, made sure that her needs and theirs were met.Maybe I like this because it’s very much what I’m doing: My husband needs to be okay. I can’t make him okay, and the longer I “help” him through “the hard times,” the longer they’ll last, and the more okay he’ll be. The ways in which he screws up his life affect mine, too, so I can’t stay here and get out of his way. Therefore, I’m getting out of his way by leaving. Temporarily. I’m giving him some time. At the end of that time, we’ll evaluate.I don’t know what’s going on in your life, that you may or may not be met at the airport, but I’m glad you’ve decided to be okay whether you are or not. Hugs!

reply brian51 wrote on Aug 7, ’09 Thank you. It’s the best thing I’ve read in a long, long time. We all own our own behaviour and outlooks. We can only allow ourselves to be coerced into enabling and being co-dependent. It’s a choice, we can say no. We can empathize all day long, but try and “fix it” for another, and you are both lost. Does this ever hit home concerning mistakes that I have made in relationships.

reply ladywolf11 wrote on Aug 7, ’09 thank you dea, I hope I would have the strength to “Wait” wonderful story full of faith love and Hope thank you liz

reply lilyiris wrote on Aug 7, ’09 brian51 said We can empathize all day long, but try and “fix it” for another, and you are both lost. Does this ever hit home concerning mistakes that I have made in relationships Spot on, Brian… that hits home with me as well.

reply wrenomatic wrote on Aug 7, ’09 Very excellent piece. Thank you…… I can see there can be multiple variations in the play as it is with me and Mr. Wren right now.

reply lunarechoes wrote on Aug 7, ’09 I also want to add that I think this piece affirms that relationships, including marriage, can work and can survive crises.

reply sousonne wrote on Aug 7, ’09, edited on Aug 7, ’09 This was good. (However this tactic doesn’t always work…some spouses really DO outgrow the other, and they grow apart, ending up having little in common. It’s more humane to let go and get on with life. )

reply sweetpotatoqueen wrote on Aug 7, ’09 lunarechoes said I also want to add that I think this piece affirms that relationships, including marriage, can work and can survive crises. Karen: I would even say that the really important relationships in life can even become stronger and emotionally richer after enduring crisis IF there is real love at the core of the bond. Honesty,patience & sincere desire to move forward can see the bad times through..on the other side of crisis there can be a greater understanding and lessons learned.

reply lunarechoes wrote on Aug 7, ’09 sweetpotatoqueen said Karen: I would even say that the really important relationships in life can even become stronger and emotionally richer after enduring crisis IF there is real love at the core of the bond. Honesty,patience & sincere desire to move forward can see the bad times through..on the other side of crisis there can be a greater understanding and lessons learned. I agree completely.

reply billatplay wrote on Aug 7, ’09 The woman you marry should be worth a great deal more than love and visa versa.

reply caffeinatedjo wrote on Aug 7, ’09 Wow, what a powerful and honest piece. I agree, we need not make the suffering of another– be it a friend, lover, spouse, daughter, etc.– our problem. Love is not always smooth sailing, but it is the calming force within any storm. Sounds like she had enough love for herself to give him the space he needed or thought he needed.Thank you so much for posting this. It reminded me of what I thought I had forgotten and taight me a new lesson, as well.

reply tulipsinspring wrote on Aug 7, ’09 Love the Carrie Bradshaw picture, that’s forever going to make me think of you my dear!A very interesting article. I buy some of it, and honestly other parts I don’t. I agree with the end of suffering. I have spent a lot of time recently dragged down by other people who expected me to fix their problems, and it almost killed me. I’m teaching myself to listen, sympathize, and understand that I can’t fix everything. I have enough to fix in my own life.To be honest, though, I have a different reaction to her relationship with her husband. They had children together and built a life together. He basically betrayed her, not just by his initial words but by unbelievably jerk-like conduct for months afterwards, in disregard not just of her, but of their kids. It’s nice that her tactics worked, but I found it odd that there was no mention of any apology for his conduct.It’s great he decided to stay. But, frankly, in her place, I wouldn’t want him after that, and he’d be kicked out. His conduct to her was emotionally abusive, and that is one thing that, to me, is not acceptable. I’m not sure I care what the reason is.Just my two cents. Thanks for the thought-provoking post. I’m taking my newly selfish self out of town for a couple of days, without taking my phone with me. See you when I get back. Hugs!

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Aug 7, ’09 I am very moved by the responses written here and to me in private. Everyone has a story or a reaction. This one made me think! And I agree, my friend Tulips, where’s the apology? “I’m teaching myself to listen, sympathize, and understand that I can’t fix everything. I have enough to fix in my own life.” Brava! See you later.

reply ruraldiva wrote on Aug 7, ’09 Great post. I am always curious how others face crisis. In some cases this might work, and I fear in too many others this would be an exercise in futility. I give this woman a great deal of credit in her outlook….declaring an end to pain. Taking off the cloak of ‘fixer of all’ was electrifying…I can only fix myself . Oh, the lessons we learn in life. Thanks for this.Cheers

reply vickieann wrote on Aug 7, ’09 The Buddha said: “I teach one thing and one only: suffering and the end of suffering.”

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Aug 7, ’09 vickieann said The Buddha said: “I teach one thing and one only: suffering and the end of suffering.” THAT is something to think about, Vickie. yin/yang…you can’t appreciate one without the other. So much more profound than what meets the eye.

reply billatplay wrote on Aug 8, ’09, edited on Aug 8, ’09 I have read this three times and wish to amend my simplistic comment. When you have been living together for years the isn’t much you don’t know about each other’s actions or reactions. For whatever reason for either wanting to leave there is no place like home. I have followed this way of living all my life. Do whatever you must do but never interfere with the Home. No individual living in our home is allowed to challenge this and nothing is more sacred than the home. Loose face, behave foolishly, whatever happens the home is your life.

reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Aug 8, ’09 This post seems to have affected many people! I am still getting personal responses. it is truly thought provoking whether you agree with the woman in the article, or my comment or not.

reply forgetmenot525 wrote on Aug 8, ’09 Hi Sue, what a wonderful piece of writing, thanks so much for posting I relate to this in so many ways. it’s good to have someone else think it out, write it out and present it in front of every one…………..best think O’ve read in a long while

reply asolotraveler wrote on Aug 9, ’09 solid writing – good insight.

editdeletereply lauritasita wrote on Aug 10, ’09 I got a lot out of this article. Thanks so much. You could apply this advice to any relationship, not just marriage. I needed to hear some of this advice. It came at a good time. Thanks again.

reply kwika wrote on Aug 15, ’09 Wonderful. And so sensible too. I’d like to think I won’t find myself in this situation. He is a lot older than me and lived 3 other lives before me. I like to think when we met he was ready to settle down and 25 years later he still feels safe.