- This topic is empty.
-
-
In a rare moment of vulnerability, I asked my husband one question that ultimately set us on the path to divorce.
Jennifer Hartmann
Our marriage wasn’t a story of epic love or passion. It was more like a transactional arrangement with a shared history.
We rarely had sex. We rarely connected. But I held onto hope. I thought, like many optimists, that we could somehow transform our obligatory relationship into a thriving partnership and build a healthy family.
We tried to fix things. Twice, we sought out marriage counseling.
The first attempt barely got off the ground. In our initial session, the therapist asked, “What made you two fall in love?” My husband and I exchanged a knowing glance. That question missed the mark completely. There had been no fairy tale start—just an unexpected pregnancy that tethered us together. We didn’t return for another session.
The second therapist seemed more promising. They met with us both together and separately. But after a few months, my husband threw a grenade into the process. During an argument, he claimed, “The therapist told me, ‘If her behavior doesn’t change, you should leave her.’”
Whether he was telling the truth or weaponizing therapy to undermine me, I’ll never know. If the therapist truly said that, it was unethical. If he lied, it was yet another way to erode trust and create distance. Either way, counseling failed.
A Cross-Country Reset That Failed
We thought a change of scenery might help. So, we packed up our lives and moved from Virginia to Northern California, closer to our roots. Familiar faces and places were supposed to save us.
Even that wasn’t enough.
For my 38th birthday, we joined my in-laws on an Alaskan cruise, bringing our four-year-old son along. The trip was a metaphor for our marriage—awkward and distant.
I spent most of the cruise alone, marveling at breathtaking sights. I watched orcas hunt seals at sunset, heard the eerie crack of glaciers breaking apart, and felt the cold wind sting my cheeks. Meanwhile, my husband and I barely spent time together. The chasm between us was becoming impossible to ignore.
Trying to Hold It Together
Back home, I threw myself into self-improvement. I sought advice from my in-laws, went back to therapy, and tried to be the wife I thought he wanted.
In therapy, I uncovered deep wounds rooted in childhood trauma and began working on myself. I embraced motherhood while finishing grad school, teaching yoga, and even pursuing intimacy with my husband. We had a second child. My heart and life felt full—on the surface, at least.
But no matter how much I gave, my husband withdrew further. His avoidant attachment style—marked by an aversion to emotional intimacy—became glaringly obvious. He was physically present but emotionally absent. I was left to navigate a whirlwind of emotions alone, feeling invalidated at every turn.
The Downward Spiral
The next two and a half years were some of the darkest of my life.
I poured all my energy into raising our children and supporting my therapy clients. I numbed my own pain with weed and ignored the growing void between us.
The chaos reached its peak during the COVID-19 lockdown. Ironically, being confined together brought clarity. We were like two people paddling a canoe in opposite directions. The tension boiled over during arguments, exposing just how misaligned we were.
The Question
It was spring 2020 when I asked the question that changed everything.
We’d just had another heated argument. My husband, as always, walked away. But something about this time was different.
I followed him to the living room, where he sat next to our son, pretending to watch cartoons. My senses were heightened—the sound of the TV, the feel of the carpet under my feet, the sunlight streaming through the window.
I stood there, vulnerable, and asked, “Counseling…or mediation?”
I didn’t say “marriage” or “divorce.” I didn’t need to. The unspoken weight of those words hung in the air.
He didn’t even look at me. “Mediation,” he said flatly, his eyes glued to the screen.
In that moment, I knew. The chasm between us would never be bridged.
I turned and walked away, leaving him and the marriage behind in my heart.
Divorce wasn’t just the end of our marriage; it was the beginning of a new chapter—one filled with split households, co-parenting struggles, and unknowns.
But in that moment, as the storm raged inside me, I realized I was finally ready to face the future.
-
- You must be logged in to reply to this topic.