Summary

The author's marriage ended after a series of emotional abuses culminated in her husband's dismissive response, "I'm over it," to serious marital issues.

Abstract

The author describes a tumultuous period in her marriage, marked by emotional abuse and her husband's narcissistic behavior, which intensified during the pandemic. Despite her efforts to address their problems, her husband consistently dismissed her concerns with the phrase "I'm over it." The discovery of his lies about his employment and their financial situation, followed by his refusal to discuss or take responsibility for these issues, led to the author's decision to end the marriage. The phrase that had been a source of frustration became the catalyst for her to leave and seek a better life for herself and her child, free from the disrespect and unhappiness she had endured.

Opinions

The author felt dismissed and disrespected by her husband's consistent use of the phrase "I'm over it."
She believes that her husband's behavior, including his refusal to communicate and his gaslighting, was a form of spousal abuse.
The author initially struggled with the idea of getting divorced due to cultural and familial expectations but ultimately chose to prioritize her well-being and that of her child.
She expresses anger towards herself for tolerating the disrespect in her marriage for as long as she did.
The author is relieved and empowered by her decision to leave her husband, viewing it as an escape from an abusive situation.
She acknowledges that while her husband's dismissive attitude was not the sole reason for the marriage's failure, it was a significant factor that led to their disconnection and her eventual decision to divorce.

Deciding on Divorce

The 3 Words That Ended My Marriage

I Was Sick of Hearing Them

**I held on to my farce of a marriage until those words brought me back to reality.** Photo by A. L. on Unsplash

The last year had been hell. I had been pregnant, had a baby, and scrambled through the newborn stage. My family and close friends lived across the ocean and my husband was a consistent and relentless asshole.

But my eyeliner game was on point. You win some, you lose some.

I pretended life was ok. I pretended I was happy. I made it work because I had to. There was nowhere for me to go. No one for me to run to. The pandemic shutdown enclosed me in this cocoon of hell.

Plus, what was I going to do? Leave my husband? And be the first person in my entire extended family to get divorced? To be a single parent?

To have a personality?

I powered on. Ignoring all the different types of spousal abuse that secretly filled our home.

It became harder to keep living the lie. My husband dug deeper and deeper into his pit of narcissism. He enlisted his toxic family to join him in playing narcissistic games with me as the target. All while I navigated through one of the most vulnerable times in a woman’s life.

Running out of Doritos.

When I tried to discuss our problems, my husband refused to engage in conversation. He would walk away stating, “I’m over it.”

Every time I talked to him about anything that shed him in a less-than-perfect light, I heard, “I’m over it. I’m over this subject.”

He would tell our therapist and me in couples therapy, “I’m over it. I’m over this conversation.”

I got the sense that our therapist wanted to throw a shelf at him.

I hated that phrase.

It was childish and ridiculous. It was dismissive and disrespectful. It told me that he didn’t care about me, our marriage, my feelings, or my concerns. I asked him on multiple occasions to stop saying, “I’m over it.”

Of course, he ignored my request.

He also ignored my request to not decorate our yard with Bud Light cans. At least they shone brightly in the sun.

And then one day, everything came to a head. The day I found out that my husband had lied about where he had been for the last five months.

My Husband Lied About Where He Was for 5 Months

I Thought He Was at Work

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When we sat down to discuss the lies about his employment, our home’s mortgage, and our finances, he refused to explain. He shouted and screamed and tried to blame me for his choices. He cut me off each time I tried to speak. He listed all of my faults and called me names.

“Trash slut” was my favorite. Not sure what it means but it sounds likable.

Then, when he finally finished his temper tantrum, he stormed out of the house, shouting over his shoulder,

“I’m over it!”

And that was it.

Having to hear those three words again was enough.

Enough for me to take my wedding ring off and never wear it again.

I no longer cared that I had nowhere to go. I would figure it out.

I no longer cared that I would be the first person in my family to get divorced or be a single parent. They could judge me all they wanted.

Might throw a shoplifting charge in the mix to really spice things up.

I was completely and utterly done living my life that way.

The audacity to say he was “over it” when I asked if he was looking for a job, and how many mortgage payments had been missed, and if we were about to be thrown out onto the street with a baby.

Clearly, I needed to be more chill.

It was as if he believed I didn’t have a right to know these things. He behaved as if I was annoying and ridiculous for wanting to know if we could afford food next month.

This behavior, this reaction was so absurd, it would have been comical. If I wasn’t afraid of him.

I had heard him utter those words so many times, but I just couldn’t hear them again. They filled me with fury.

I wasn’t furious with him.

What would be the point? He had the emotional range of a spoon.

I was furious at myself.

I was furious that I let myself be disrespected that way. I was furious that I let myself accept a desperately unhappy life. I was furious that I let myself shrink into a shell of the person I used to be.

And for what? So I could meet the repressive standards set out by my family? By society?

By Sweet Home Alabama?

Clearly, there were many issues in my marriage. And the marriage would have ended whether my husband used those words or not.

But our marriage problems began with “I’m over it.” Those words were the beginning of our disconnection. Those words lead us to therapy. And ultimately, I believe those words would have killed our marriage too, even if the other catastrophic events didn’t take place.

Or if he got a pet bird or something.

I’m glad my husband stormed out that day, yelling “I’m over it” over his shoulder. It gave me the kick I needed to get out. I’m glad I didn’t spend the next three or five or twenty years trying to fix it, spending each day in misery.

I do think that those words ended our marriage. Because if my husband had explained, pleaded, and promised, I may have stayed and tried again. The use of those words to respond to the mess he had made of our lives, was the nail in the coffin.

Now, those words are equally my favorite words and words that I never want to hear again.