I've been watching this whole Kim Kardashian/ Kris Humphries thing blow up. I know I shouldn't. I wish I knew what it was about these people that makes the rest of us people sit up and watch them make ruins out of their lives. I've never seen one of her shows. I just feel compelled to click on her headlines. Boy is she sure getting the headlines now. Magazines alleging that the whole marriage was a scam for headlines. Entertainment websites analyzing every mistake and facial expression. How does he feel? How does she feel? How did she tell her mother? Does she keep the ring?
The thing is, I really don't think this marriage was a ploy for media attention. She says she was looking for a fairy tale ending. I can see how someone who makes a career out of being the center of attention, being pretty, and telling other people how to be pretty would expect to marry and live happily ever after. Her life is something of a fairytale to the rest of us. I think a lot of people expect a fairy tale ending at the point of "I do," as if some serene happily-ever-after will coat our feelings, habits, and expectations with a glowing light of affability, and we'll never hurt or be hurt again. And when it doesn't happen, well, that's probably where a lot of divorces come from. I feel like I'm watching a little sister make a mess out of her life, which is funny because I'm 30 to her 31.
The simple fact of the matter is that we're none of us at the ending yet. Happily ever after in the fairytales means that the wicked witches aren't chasing you anymore, and you're free to get on with your life. But the heroes of fairytales earned that ending. They slew dragons and cut off giants' heads. They wandered through wildernesses for years and lovingly served wicked stepmothers who would keep them down at all costs. Their love was already tested and their virtue proved. That's why the marriage is the end of the fairytale. They achieved something in order to get there.
But for the rest of us, marriage is the beginning of the love story, and sweetheart, you didn't even get past the "And in that village lived a shoemaker" stage. Any decent love requires more than seventy-two days to put it to the test. You didn't give yourselves any chance to sacrifice, persevere, and overcome. The modern American fairytale should begin "There once was a lovely young woman who married a handsome young man, and they promised to stay together forever. However, the spirits of self, stress, and fear conspired together to take away their happiness and drive them apart forever." This is only the start of your story. This is where the witch catches the prince with Rapunzel and casts him out to wander blindly through the wilderness. This is where the trolls snatch Puss Cat Mew from her fireside and lock her in a hidden dungeon. You've got whole chapters of ups and downs to go before you get to the fairytale ending.
I know you said you have to follow your heart, but the heart isn't any more reliable than the rest of a person. It feels unreasonable passions. It responds to fears that are real and imaginary. It holds the hidden motives that we aren't fully aware of, and more often than not it responds to those instead of taking in the truth of the matter. If you want a husband, a marriage, and a family, then you have to learn to evaluate your heart in terms of your goals. You have to learn stick-to-itiveness, and you have to learn to weather doubts, frustrations, and seemingly "irreconcilable differences." Your marriage has to be a higher priority than your reputation and your career because your marriage is a committment to more than a dream. It's a committment to a real, living person.
Once, when I had been married for about a year, I had a moment when I thought I could have pitched everything. The year hadn't been unhappy, but it had been lonely. My husband and I had weathered the basic adjustments of marriage pretty well, but we had moved across the country twice, he had worked twelve hour days on rotating, seven day shifts, and for me there had been a lot of sitting at empty tables, sleeping in empty beds, and walking alone through empty housing developments at twilight, waiting for him to come home. I felt like all the loneliness had left a hole in my heart.
I had gone to spend a week with my parents and attend a friend's wedding, and to go from home and company back to an empty apartment was more than I could handle. As I crested the hill above the Tacoma Narrows Bridge (which is a beautiful sight in early August, by the way), I literally thought, "I have to turn around. I want to go home. I can't do this anymore. I want a divorce." My heart was ready to turn the car around, but my hands and feet knew better.
I got home, and Seth opened the door for me. He saw the look on my face and said, "What's wrong?" I said, "Don't ask me. Just hold me." And we sat on the floor in our narrow little entryway while I cried on his shoulder. I think I told him how miserable I was. It was years before I told him that I'd been on the brink of asking for a divorce. Even as I was driving that day, I knew he didn't deserve the pain that that would cause him, and that knowledge was what kept me going forward. He was and is a good guy who loves me, who has done everything he could under the circumstances (and we have had circumstances) to make me happy, and knowing how I would have hurt him kept me from doing what I felt like doing then.
If I had followed my heart that day, I would not have a husband. I would not have a daughter. I would not be as strong or as independent as I am today. I would not have learned the lessons of intimacy and patience that are making me a better wife. The last seven years of my life would not have happened, and whatever would have happened instead would not have gotten me any closer to my happily ever after. But instead of following my heart, I thought about my husband and what was right and fair to him and I kept going forward. And now, even though necessity takes my prince away on a regular basis, I can say that I have learned to be happy, and I can see my happily ever sitting far off on my horizon.
I'll probably come across as naive if I say go back to him, but I hate to see any marriage break up. You really haven't given yourselves a chance to grow into something good. Go back. Talk to him. Find a counselor (or better yet a pastor. A little post pre-marital counseling will do a world of good.) and together put some effort into this. Making this work will make you happier than leaving this behind.
I know you said you have to follow your heart, but the heart isn't any more reliable than the rest of a person. It feels unreasonable passions. It responds to fears that are real and imaginary. It holds the hidden motives that we aren't fully aware of, and more often than not it responds to those instead of taking in the truth of the matter. If you want a husband, a marriage, and a family, then you have to learn to evaluate your heart in terms of your goals. You have to learn stick-to-itiveness, and you have to learn to weather doubts, frustrations, and seemingly "irreconcilable differences." Your marriage has to be a higher priority than your reputation and your career because your marriage is a committment to more than a dream. It's a committment to a real, living person.
Once, when I had been married for about a year, I had a moment when I thought I could have pitched everything. The year hadn't been unhappy, but it had been lonely. My husband and I had weathered the basic adjustments of marriage pretty well, but we had moved across the country twice, he had worked twelve hour days on rotating, seven day shifts, and for me there had been a lot of sitting at empty tables, sleeping in empty beds, and walking alone through empty housing developments at twilight, waiting for him to come home. I felt like all the loneliness had left a hole in my heart.
I had gone to spend a week with my parents and attend a friend's wedding, and to go from home and company back to an empty apartment was more than I could handle. As I crested the hill above the Tacoma Narrows Bridge (which is a beautiful sight in early August, by the way), I literally thought, "I have to turn around. I want to go home. I can't do this anymore. I want a divorce." My heart was ready to turn the car around, but my hands and feet knew better.
I got home, and Seth opened the door for me. He saw the look on my face and said, "What's wrong?" I said, "Don't ask me. Just hold me." And we sat on the floor in our narrow little entryway while I cried on his shoulder. I think I told him how miserable I was. It was years before I told him that I'd been on the brink of asking for a divorce. Even as I was driving that day, I knew he didn't deserve the pain that that would cause him, and that knowledge was what kept me going forward. He was and is a good guy who loves me, who has done everything he could under the circumstances (and we have had circumstances) to make me happy, and knowing how I would have hurt him kept me from doing what I felt like doing then.
If I had followed my heart that day, I would not have a husband. I would not have a daughter. I would not be as strong or as independent as I am today. I would not have learned the lessons of intimacy and patience that are making me a better wife. The last seven years of my life would not have happened, and whatever would have happened instead would not have gotten me any closer to my happily ever after. But instead of following my heart, I thought about my husband and what was right and fair to him and I kept going forward. And now, even though necessity takes my prince away on a regular basis, I can say that I have learned to be happy, and I can see my happily ever sitting far off on my horizon.
I'll probably come across as naive if I say go back to him, but I hate to see any marriage break up. You really haven't given yourselves a chance to grow into something good. Go back. Talk to him. Find a counselor (or better yet a pastor. A little post pre-marital counseling will do a world of good.) and together put some effort into this. Making this work will make you happier than leaving this behind.
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