Summary

A woman reflects on her failing marriage, acknowledging her shortcomings as a wife and mother, and takes drastic measures to win back her husband after he leaves her.

Abstract

In a personal narrative, a woman recounts her journey of self-improvement and contrition following the end of her 22-year marriage. Initially complacent in her role, she realizes her inadequacies when her husband leaves her, prompting a transformation in her physical appearance and lifestyle. She writes a letter from her husband's perspective, detailing her past failings and her newfound commitment to change, hoping to reconcile with him and restore their family.

Opinions

The author views herself as having been an unmotivated and inadequate wife and mother before her husband left.
She believes that her physical transformation and newfound discipline might appeal to her husband's desires and show her commitment to change.
The author expresses that her husband saw her as unappreciative and disrespectful of his efforts and sacrifices for their family.
She acknowledges feeling shame and responsibility for the breakdown of their marriage, suggesting a one-sided view of the marital issues.
The husband is portrayed as feeling unappreciated and burdened by the wife's lack of contribution and support in the marriage.
The author's decision to write a letter from her husband's perspective indicates a belief that fully understanding and admitting to her husband's grievances is key to their potential reconciliation.

THE NARRATIVE ARC

I Was Not a Good Wife and Begged My Husband to Take Me Back

A letter of contrition

I could’ve been better, done more. And if I had, I might have been able to save my marriage.

As an unmotivated human, I did the mandatory wife-ing and mothering. Cleaned toilets, cooked casseroles, signed school papers. But I didn’t do more.

When I tried college to try and better myself, I failed. Literally. When I got a job and brought in real value in the form of money, nothing got done at home. Everyone was miserable.

My ex-husband found me to be a failure as a wife and mother.

In my 22nd year of marriage, I had thought I was the luckiest person in the world to live the life I had been living.

Every morning I ran with my friends. I was able to sleep in on Sundays. I never missed an episode of Real Housewives. I went to book club. I had sex a few times a month. I had no need for pants with a button.

I had the ultimate feeling of safety and security.

So when he left me in September of 2019, I was convinced I was a loser. And I would do anything to get him back. I would show the highest levels of remorse and accountability.

It wouldn’t be enough to show up contrite with abs. After he left, I took my pain to the trails and ran for hours every day. I replaced my usual snacks of goldfish and cheese with vodka and sparkling water. Within a couple of months, I had evolved into the lean, muscular wife my husband had always wanted.

And while my new, physical appearance would help, there would need to be more. He would need a legitimate apology.

So on a perfect fall day I would deliver him a homemade meal and note of penance. A note from his perspective would show my underbelly of truth. It would show him I knew what a failure I had been all those years. And how my recognition would be the start of a new me. A worthy me.

To James, I wake up at an ungodly hour to get ready to go to a job I hate. I kiss my wife while she still sleeps. My wife gets her daily workout running with her friends and our dogs, all while I have to sit in this shithole office and then hope I have the energy to get my workout after a full day of work. When I get home from another crappy day, I walk in to see my unshowered, sweats & crocs wearing, overweight wife on the couch watching tv, eating a snack. To top it off, I have to walk to her to give her a kiss. She doesn’t even get up for me. Dinner time rolls around, and on occasion, I get a home cooked meal, but many times I get a yell down to the basement asking me what I want to have our daughter go get from a drive-thru.

To avoid another bullshit conversation, I go along with it even though I’ve told her a million times I’d like to lose weight and get healthier. The highlight of my night is the quiet that comes with watching an hour of tv before going to bed early so I can get up to do it all over again. Maybe I’ll get sex once a week. But there’s nothing sexy about the sex — it’s the same as always, beginning with an insecure wife who wears hideous fleece pajama pants and toe socks. I’ve worked hard to give our family a great life, including a summer vacation of a lifetime. I’ve sacrificed to get my advanced degrees.

And after all the hard work and all the sacrifices, I have a wife who doesn’t show any gratitude or respect. She acts put out if I ask her to help by running errands to the dry cleaner or post office. I put my own laundry away, I do all the outside chores, I handle all the finances and I can’t even get a fucking massage once in a while. If I do, I have to hear about how tired she is. Or it’s because I’ve threatened to leave — why does it have to become catastrophic for her to pay attention? At that, it’s always short lived. And years of this is why I left.

The first reaction my husband had to the letter was anger, that I’d somehow eavesdropped or recorded his therapy sessions. And that realization — that he had been tolerating me — filled me with shame. I wouldn’t have written the letter had I not known these things about me. I’d just thought they were my secret. But, my partner knew these things too. And he hated me for it.

To save us I would face the shame of the truth. A truth that comes easier when you’d become 5 sizes smaller with a sassy, new haircut.

He eventually, and gratefully, accepted the letter at its face value. I was admitting that I knew I was the loser he thought me to be.

This letter of admission had to be the missing chemistry from our formula. A true showing of remorse. Accountability for the demise of our marriage, as if I were the only one participating.

I would win him back.

This would put our family back together.

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