I’m Divorcing Wrong

I failed in my marriage and I’m failing at divorcing.

I wanted to title this essay, “Divorce Me. Please.” And then I remembered, “oh yeah, I already wrote that article…back in fucking August.”

Six months.

It’s been six months since I said I no longer wanted to be in our marriage. Back when I stupidly thought Covid wouldn’t last much longer. Admittedly, I created this uncomfortable prison called Home.

I knew Joseph wouldn’t let me go easily. And the only reason I ever hesitated was for our kids. I don’t want 50/50 visitation; I want 100/100 daily visits. That can’t happen unless I become a bajillionaire and buy the house next door (it was a flip and it’s fancy-schmancy).

So I presented the idea of a Parenting Marriage. It reframes the view of traditional marriage and turns it into a business of raising kids. That way kids get the most important thing: both parents under one roof to raise them.

It hinges on two important factors.

First, it depends on whether the spouses get along. If there’s discord, forget it. Kids fare better in homes where parents are divorced compared to homes where there is nonstop acrimony. My husband and I had stopped our “Ike and Tina”-level fights but that was mainly from my lack of care factor. I was apathetic. I was too beat down to bother fighting for what I needed.

It then hinges on buy-in from both people. Meaning: both people mutually agree that the marriage is over and that staying under one roof for the kids while living separate lives is the least-worst option.

That’s where things went bad. I didn’t have buy-in off the bat. I had fighting, crying, hysterics, and lots of yelling at me to move out. I asked Joseph to consider meeting with one of the original therapists who coined the Parenting Marriage term (might as well go straight to the source, despite her enormous fee).

Eventually, he caved and we came up with a contract. However, there are still plenty of areas that rely on Joseph’s acceptance. I can’t tell any of my friends that he might ever see (because, theoretically, we’d still be a family going to social events together). Dating was off the table. He still thought it was fine to walk in on each other showering; I won that battle along with the idea that we should not be sleeping in the same bed. After all, we haven’t slept in the same bed since 2014…why start now?

Still, I was unhappy. The inherent personality differences weren’t resolved simply by re-titling our relationship. I know that I changed as well. I was no longer held down by childhood trauma and I also felt a sense of freedom after telling Joseph that I was done. I finally felt like I could begin living an authentic life.

The final straw came earlier this week when Joseph and I had an altercation. His problem is that when he shows he’s upset, I don’t apologize immediately. My problem is that when someone goes from 0 to 60, my natural reaction isn’t to apologize unless I did something blatantly wrong like stabbing him. My reaction is to explain what I meant and to show my intentions (with an “oh, he misunderstood, let me explain what I meant that isn’t what he thinks”).

This is one of a million examples to show our personality differences. I’ve learned that I am who I am. I have tried. My Spock brain just doesn’t think like his. I will never react in the way that Joseph wants. I can’t change my default, fight-or-flight reactions when someone flips their shit off the bat. It seems like I need to change who I am.

Finally, I realized I don’t need to be miserable anymore. I’m an effing grownup. Why am I living in fear of being yelled at in my own house? I’m done. I’m done.

The catch? I still had to tell him.

I didn’t tell Joseph the day he flipped on me. Someone I treasure was dying and I focused on writing my goodbye letter.

He died hours later after his wife read him my email. I refused to go another day without telling Joseph that I wanted out. Like, out out. I was going to be strong. Uhhh, I also told one of the two friends who knows my situation that I owed her $100 if I didn’t say it that night. I needed real motivation.

After the kids were asleep, I brought it up. Sitting on my, I mean, our bed, he didn’t take it well. Joseph was angry that after he began accepting the Parenting Marriage, I “changed the goalpost”. He’s not wrong. It was my mistake to believe that I would be happy living with him as long as we were separated.

Joseph also insisted that I’m selfish. He told me he hated me (I realize that’s not true, he’s speaking from a place of hurt). That I’m destroying our kids’ lives without putting in genuine effort. That things were going great and then I did a 180. He told me to pack my bags and leave immediately. “So you want me to live in a cardboard box? That means the kids will spend fifty percent of their time with me, in that cardboard box?”

I told him that the most important thing was for the kids to see us getting along. That he can he can say he hates me all he wants to just me but in front of them, they need to see a united front. Joseph replied that he would absolutely act out of spite and that this was war.

At one point Joseph insisted that he wanted all of his IRA money back. “What are you talking about? You have your IRAs,” I answered. He replied that he thought our IRAs merged when we worked with a new financial advisor. I had to explain that it means our accounts were accessible together online but you can’t have a joint IRA.

For fuck’s sake, it’s not my fault he never logged in to check his retirement.

The next day, Joseph was cordial. He even agreed to do an emergency session with our divorce counselor via Zoom.

I explained that I didn’t want to do anything drastic while the kids, who are struggling with online education and social isolation, are still in school.

Joseph described my reckless behavior. That divorcing now would be dumb for tax purposes, we would have to pay to re-do our living trusts (which we had already redone last year), and we would split our finances. He wasn’t happy about the costs associated with mediation and divorce. I began by saying, “I’m getting some freelance writing money…” (in the absence of knowing that I write on Medium) and he interrupted by saying, “yeah, which I get half of!”

I corrected him by saying, “I’ll pay for all the costs of divorce. All of my freelance money will go towards it. That way we don’t have to dip into savings. I’m taking a second job so that we can divorce!”

So much for Medium and Etsy being my way of saving for anti-aging procedures and help supplement my income for future mortgage payments. I have to pay my way out of this marriage. The irony is that I spent my entire 2020 Medium earnings on loads of Botox and fillers a few hours prior. My face, on Zoom, was bruised and swollen as I promised to not dip into our joint savings for legalities.

Clarifying on the “this is war” comment from the night before, Joseph said that all divorces are war. I replied, “I’m offering to pay for all the costs. That’s like buying the weapon for your enemy.” Joseph made a snarky comment that is what happens in actual war. I threw my hands in the air because he missed my point and I didn’t give a shit about the logistics of the US military.

Various comments about my personality defects were said. Joseph mentioned how I’m fake and overly nice to my friends. “Well, you won’t let me tell the truth about our living situation so I’m forced to slap on a smile. Also, my friends don’t get mad at me. So you can’t have it both ways,” I clapped back.

Eventually, the stress of the session made me crack. I insisted that the Zoom session further proved our personality differences. I expressed that this wasn’t something I decided on a whim. I cried that I never wanted to live in a house where anyone can ever yell at me again.

Joseph said that all couples argue and that we weren’t any different. I disagreed. I can’t live in a house where I feel like I have to tiptoe. Even a 1% chance of being yelled at isn’t an option for me anymore. Cue more rants about my personality flaws, hypocrisy, and actions. Every time, I responded that it showed that we are inherently too different to make this work.

For the rest of the call, our counselor gave various living alternatives. Filing for legal separation. Divorcing but staying in the same house. Separating and trying a nesting situation. I said I would research the pros and cons of each if Joseph would be willing to have a civilized conversation with me.

We left the video with a set of instructions for Joseph to continue individual therapy with her and for me to specifically find a therapist under my insurance who specializes in EMDR.

I. Just. Want. A. Divorce. (For Friends fans, imagine Chandler yelling how he wants to quit the gym. It’s like that.)

How did asking to break up end with me having homework?

The Zoom call ended. Walking out, Joseph teared up and said that he misses our friendship. He said, “If we divorce, that means I won’t see the kids every day. I will hate you forever for that.” He broke down and cried hysterically downstairs in his office.

Joseph isn’t wrong. I’ll hate me forever for missing half my kids’ lives too. I’ve also been a horrible friend.

My confession: I don’t care to be friends anymore. I don’t care and I’m the biggest asshole for ruining everyone’s lives. All because I lived every day feeling like I had a vice grip in my brain.

I was a straight-A student in high school. Now that I’m an adult, I’m failing at divorce.