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2016

Abstract

p>I didn’t realize his question, “Are you coming or not?” Was not a question that was giving me a choice, but rather, he was saying, “YOU HAD BETTER COME.” And there would be consequences afterward.I figured no matter what choice I made, there would be no positive outcome, so the question was which one would be less painful?Also, I knew it would be the last Christmas, and what better way to signal to the family that everything is falling apart by not showing up at Christmas? It was an obvious signal to the family to get ready for change since it had arrived at the Christmas meal.He stomped out with his two college-aged kids who were perplexed. I felt sorry for them being exposed to James’ anger.When everyone was out of the house, I continued to read peacefully.I’m sure his mother asked him a lot of questions about why I wasn’t there, making the meal even more uncomfortable.I alternated between reading and looking at realtor.com for apartments in the neighborhood I wanted to move to in contemplating leaving James. I looked at a bunch of apartments on different streets, imagining what my morning walks would be like, what commuting home at night would be like, etc.A month before Christmas, I wasn’t able to think about concretely moving, so searching out apartments felt really good. It felt like a dammed river started to flow.When James came back from the holiday dinner, he rushed into the bedroom at me.He was enraged, “EVERYONE NOTICED THAT YOU WEREN’T THERE AT CHRISTMAS AND THEY KNEW YOU WERE AT HOME JUST A FEW BLOCKS AWAY.”I guess his rage was a cover for shame, maybe? I don’t know if he felt shame but it seems that he was angry that I made him look bad. The weird thing is I liked his mom, but the family dynamics were gruesome if that combination could be possible.Me: “OK. Well, I expec

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ted them to notice. It would be weird if they didn’t notice. I figured, why put up appearances? Might as well be real about this.”He went into the kitchen and broke a few things. I guess that’s his way of not hitting me, which he never did. He didn’t possess an arsenal of emotional regulatory skills.Later he came into the bedroom and demanded that we go to marital counseling. He was angry that I had terminated the last therapist.I didn’t want to stay in the marriage, I didn’t want to make it work because I didn’t think it could work no matter what previous therapists had said.The only reason for us to go to a therapist would be in order to have support in navigating how to go through the end of the marriage. I think that is also one of the things people can turn to a marriage counselor for. What I had trouble doing was ending the marriage, which I think a lot of people would have the same problem I had. It’s not the pain that I was afraid of, but it was his raging and desperate acts that I was afraid of.I needed help navigating the end of the relationship knowing that the divorce would be filled with the horrible behavior that made the marriage horrible.I was tired of his rages and his accusations, his affairs, his lying, his desperation. My ex was a desperate man and I knew there was nothing I could do about that. I felt sorry for him but I was also exhausted from being near him.That was what it was like to have my last Christmas with James before we divorced. It was disconnected, disjointed, filled with his rage and shame, and filled with my apparent apathy. But there were new roots; searching for apartments, thinking of daily life with interest and curiosity. The future had appeared that day amidst the terrible marriage. You could tangibly feel the end of the marriage through the holiday, through the family dinner, it was weirdly liberating.</article></body>

Marriage/Relationships

Last Christmas With My Husband

Knowing Divorce Was Ahead.

Thank you Monstera Productions for this photo.

This morning my partner and I were having breakfast and he asked me what it was like to have Christmas when I was married years ago.

I remember most keenly the last Christmas before I got divorced from my now ex-husband James.

I knew it was the last Christmas I would have with him and his family.

It’s a strange sensation, a palpable and physical sensation to know this is it, the last Christmas.

Christmas Day, I was lying in bed reading a book my therapist gave me. It was a beautiful hopeful book with a different outlook on love and care.

James rushed into the bedroom, “We’re having Christmas at my mother’s, are you coming or not?”

He looked at me with huge blue accusatory eyes.

Wow, he was stimulated, his sympathetic system was on high. Cortisol pumping through his veins, was he in fight or flight?

I hadn’t thought about Christmas yet and it was Christmas. We hadn’t had any discussions about Christmas, so I figured that was odd. I was familiar with the “no discussion” possibilities with James, especially during the holidays which seemed really loaded for him. It was loaded for me too, but I wasn’t in a nonverbal zone over the holidays.

“No, I’ll stay here and read.”

His family had awkward family meals and too many of them; they spent time humiliating each other and teasing each other, and tension is high at the table. Everyone leaves unhappy. Then they complain for about 12 hours. If James’ brother’s family also comes to meals, then it’s even more tense.

I didn’t realize his question, “Are you coming or not?” Was not a question that was giving me a choice, but rather, he was saying, “YOU HAD BETTER COME.” And there would be consequences afterward.

I figured no matter what choice I made, there would be no positive outcome, so the question was which one would be less painful?

Also, I knew it would be the last Christmas, and what better way to signal to the family that everything is falling apart by not showing up at Christmas? It was an obvious signal to the family to get ready for change since it had arrived at the Christmas meal.

He stomped out with his two college-aged kids who were perplexed. I felt sorry for them being exposed to James’ anger.

When everyone was out of the house, I continued to read peacefully.

I’m sure his mother asked him a lot of questions about why I wasn’t there, making the meal even more uncomfortable.

I alternated between reading and looking at realtor.com for apartments in the neighborhood I wanted to move to in contemplating leaving James. I looked at a bunch of apartments on different streets, imagining what my morning walks would be like, what commuting home at night would be like, etc.

A month before Christmas, I wasn’t able to think about concretely moving, so searching out apartments felt really good. It felt like a dammed river started to flow.

When James came back from the holiday dinner, he rushed into the bedroom at me.

He was enraged, “EVERYONE NOTICED THAT YOU WEREN’T THERE AT CHRISTMAS AND THEY KNEW YOU WERE AT HOME JUST A FEW BLOCKS AWAY.”

I guess his rage was a cover for shame, maybe? I don’t know if he felt shame but it seems that he was angry that I made him look bad. The weird thing is I liked his mom, but the family dynamics were gruesome if that combination could be possible.

Me: “OK. Well, I expected them to notice. It would be weird if they didn’t notice. I figured, why put up appearances? Might as well be real about this.”

He went into the kitchen and broke a few things. I guess that’s his way of not hitting me, which he never did. He didn’t possess an arsenal of emotional regulatory skills.

Later he came into the bedroom and demanded that we go to marital counseling. He was angry that I had terminated the last therapist.

I didn’t want to stay in the marriage, I didn’t want to make it work because I didn’t think it could work no matter what previous therapists had said.

The only reason for us to go to a therapist would be in order to have support in navigating how to go through the end of the marriage. I think that is also one of the things people can turn to a marriage counselor for. What I had trouble doing was ending the marriage, which I think a lot of people would have the same problem I had. It’s not the pain that I was afraid of, but it was his raging and desperate acts that I was afraid of.

I needed help navigating the end of the relationship knowing that the divorce would be filled with the horrible behavior that made the marriage horrible.

I was tired of his rages and his accusations, his affairs, his lying, his desperation. My ex was a desperate man and I knew there was nothing I could do about that. I felt sorry for him but I was also exhausted from being near him.

That was what it was like to have my last Christmas with James before we divorced. It was disconnected, disjointed, filled with his rage and shame, and filled with my apparent apathy. But there were new roots; searching for apartments, thinking of daily life with interest and curiosity. The future had appeared that day amidst the terrible marriage. You could tangibly feel the end of the marriage through the holiday, through the family dinner, it was weirdly liberating.