I found myself standing in the doorway of our family room after putting the kids to bed, nervously asking my husband, “Do you have a moment?” My heart raced as I thought about a couple we knew who had recently split after 14 years. Their divorce set off a chain reaction in my mind about the state of my own marriage.
Without waiting for a response, I dove in. “I’ve been thinking about us, and I’d rate our marriage a solid B. Maybe even a B+ on good days. We’re great friends, have three amazing kids, and we hardly ever fight about money or anything serious. But I believe we could be at an A with just a few adjustments.”
“I feel overwhelmed with handling our finances on my own, and I’d love for you to help me manage things. Plus, I really want us to do something fun together, just the two of us—like dance lessons or volunteering. I’m open to anything!”
He didn’t look up from his tablet, but I was sure he was listening. I waited, but silence hung in the air. “What do you think?”
He finally glanced at me and said, “No.”
I laughed, thinking he was joking. “No? To which part?”
“To all of it. I’m done trying to change to make you happy. You married me knowing who I am, and it was good enough then. Why should it be different now?”
I stood there, momentarily stunned. I had hoped for a discussion, not a flat-out rejection. This wasn’t new territory—we’d had this battle many times, with me wanting change and him resisting it. Typically, I could convince him to come around, but this time, his refusal felt like a wall crashing down.
I was speechless, so I turned and tidied up the kitchen, then headed to bed. The following week, I sought counseling. I explained to the therapist that my husband was unwilling to work on our marriage, and I wanted to figure out how to change his mind. She kindly pointed out that wasn’t how therapy worked. “He’s either in this with you, or he’s not. Until he wants to be involved, let’s focus on what you can control.”
As days turned into weeks, my husband remained firm. He had consistently stated he wasn’t interested in changing. I realized that I didn’t need to explain myself differently; he simply disagreed with my vision for our partnership. With my therapist’s guidance, I came to understand that he was his own person with his own choices. I could either accept where he stood, or I could leave.
I chose to leave.
The next few days were brutal. There were moments in the frozen food aisle at the grocery store when I felt as if I was losing my best friend. Telling our kids the news was gut-wrenching; even years later, I can still see the shock on their faces. But the reality was clear: we wanted different things and couldn’t find a way to meet in the middle.
We divorced.
Looking back at that night, I laugh at my misguided attempt to grade our relationship and implement a performance improvement plan. I had assumed I alone knew what was best without considering his viewpoint. I had slipped into the role of manager instead of partner. His refusal to change or seek counseling revealed years of unexpressed anger. My need to control and his resentment were woven into our story like a stubborn thread. Our relationship wasn’t a partnership, and it definitely wasn’t healthy.
With time, I gained enough perspective to reevaluate everything. In truth, we are better co-parents apart than we ever were together—no more resentment over roles or the dysfunction within our communication. We’ve escaped the patterns that stifled us during our marriage.
Now, the kids sometimes wonder why we divorced at all. They see us chatting easily about movies or new restaurants in town. Our daughter Lily often asks, feeling the weight of our separation. I tell her the truth: her dad and I are good friends, but we weren’t good partners. The divorce ended our partnership, which was painful, but ultimately gave us the space to nurture our individual relationships with the kids and take charge of our lives. It freed us from the constant struggle we were in, allowing us to reconnect as friends without the burdens of our past.
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In summary, sometimes in life, listening to the other person can lead us to make tough but necessary decisions. It’s okay to seek help, but ultimately, we must respect each other’s choices and paths.