Lightning struck in the Modern Love column of The NY Times recently, in the form of this article by Laura Munson about the resurrection of a troubled marriage/family. Despite some of the can-do language, it reads uncannily like a page from Paul Zahl’s Grace In Practice, almost what Dorothy Martyn’s Beyond Deserving insights might look like translated into a marriage setting, that all-too-rare example of a vertical dynamic (God->man) successfully/miraculously/unwittingly transposed onto the horizontal (man->man). Mrs. Munson is espousing the opposite of a tit-for-tat “rights” rabbit-hole mentality if I’ve ever seen one, and a therefore truly hopeful (and remarkably faithful!) approach to conflict resolution. If only more ministers could muster the courage to try it out on their parishioners:
Let’s say you have what you believe to be a healthy marriage. You’re still friends and lovers after spending more than half of your lives together. The dreams you set out to achieve in your 20s — gazing into each other’s eyes in candlelit city bistros when you were single and skinny — have for the most part come true. […]
Sure, you have your marital issues, but on the whole you feel so self-satisfied about how things have worked out that you would never, in your wildest nightmares, think you would hear these words from your husband one fine summer day: “I don’t love you anymore. I’m not sure I ever did. I’m moving out. The kids will understand. They’ll want me to be happy.”
But wait. This isn’t the divorce story you think it is. Neither is it a begging-him-to-stay story. It’s a story about hearing your husband say “I don’t love you anymore” and deciding not to believe him. And what can happen as a result.
Here’s a visual: Child throws a temper tantrum. Tries to hit his mother. But the mother doesn’t hit back, lecture or punish. Instead, she ducks. Then she tries to go about her business as if the tantrum isn’t happening. She doesn’t “reward” the tantrum. She simply doesn’t take the tantrum personally because, after all, it’s not about her.
Let me be clear: I’m not saying my husband was throwing a child’s tantrum. No. He was in the grip of something else — a profound and far more troubling meltdown that comes not in childhood but in midlife, when we perceive that our personal trajectory is no longer arcing reliably upward as it once did. But I decided to respond the same way I’d responded to my children’s tantrums. And I kept responding to it that way. For four months.
“I don’t love you anymore. I’m not sure I ever did.” His words came at me like a speeding fist, like a sucker punch, yet somehow in that moment I was able to duck. And once I recovered and composed myself, I managed to say, “I don’t buy it.” Because I didn’t. […]
You see, I’d recently committed to a non-negotiable understanding with myself. I’d committed to “The End of Suffering.” I’d finally managed to exile the voices in my head that told me my personal happiness was only as good as my outward success, rooted in things that were often outside my control. I’d seen the insanity of that equation and decided to take responsibility for my own happiness. And I mean all of it.
My husband hadn’t yet come to this understanding with himself. He had enjoyed many years of hard work, and its rewards had supported our family of four all along. But his new endeavor hadn’t been going so well, and his ability to be the breadwinner was in rapid decline. He’d been miserable about this, felt useless, was losing himself emotionally and letting himself go physically. And now he wanted out of our marriage; to be done with our family.
I simply had come to understand that I was not at the root of my husband’s problem. He was. If he could turn his problem into a marital fight, he could make it about us. I needed to get out of the way so that wouldn’t happen.
And, yeah, you can bet I wanted to sit him down and persuade him to stay. To love me. To fight for what we’ve created. You can bet I wanted to.
But I didn’t. I barbecued. Made lemonade. Set the table for four. Loved him from afar.
And one day, there he was, home from work early, mowing the lawn. A man doesn’t mow his lawn if he’s going to leave it. Not this man. Then he fixed a door that had been broken for eight years. He made a comment about our front porch needing paint. Our front porch. He mentioned needing wood for next winter. The future. Little by little, he started talking about the future.
It was Thanksgiving dinner that sealed it. My husband bowed his head humbly and said, “I’m thankful for my family.”
He was back. And I saw what had been missing: pride. He’d lost pride in himself. Maybe that’s what happens when our egos take a hit in midlife and we realize we’re not as young and golden anymore.
When life’s knocked us around. And our childhood myths reveal themselves to be just that. The truth feels like the biggest sucker-punch of them all: it’s not a spouse or land or a job or money that brings us happiness. Those achievements, those relationships, can enhance our happiness, yes, but happiness has to start from within. Relying on any other equation can be lethal. [ed note: starts with an L and rhymes with “thaw”!]
My husband had become lost in the myth. But he found his way out. We’ve since had the hard conversations. In fact, he encouraged me to write about our ordeal. To help other couples who arrive at this juncture in life. People who feel scared and stuck. Who believe their temporary feelings are permanent. Who see an easy out, and think they can escape.
My husband tried to strike a deal. Blame me for his pain. Unload his feelings of personal disgrace onto me. But I ducked. And I waited. And it worked.
COMMENTS
11 responses to “Those Aren’t Fighting Words, Dear”
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I love this so much. Bending to the whims of our every day emotions can be so destructive.
This is also why I hate the idea of "the one"… as in, God has your one person in mind for you to marry. This can often turn into a suspicion, typically either right at or before the point of commitment to marriage or in midlife when everything is not so shiny and new, that maybe the person you are with is not The One after all.
Hmmm….WHAT I'M NOT THE ONE?!?!
Just kidding.
DZ: Great post and I agree so much with what Daniel wrote. "Bending to the whims of our every day emotions can be so destructive." This, as well as your post, gives me great comfort not only in my marriage (tools like "ducking" can come in handy) but also in my walk with Christ. As I am not always walking in the high of a "Mountain-top" experience and my "feelings" can ebb and flow radically every day; there is surety outside of my "mood". Jesus loves me, even when I feel unlovable. Jesus died for my sins, even when I struggle with believing it.
This is, on its face anyway, a very secularized version of "grace", but then we know that ALL true ducking comes from God, who is the author of all human inactivity.
Our emotions can indeed not only be destructive, but cause you to make wrong choices, decisions, and cause other's much pain. Emotions causes us not to forgive those that have hurt us as well. And that unforgiveness causes broken families, some of which, are never repaired. It causes mothers not to forgive daughters, and daughters not to forgive mothers, and fathers not to forgive sons, and sons not to forgive fathers, thus, a broken family. And then, there are the grandchildren that are caught up in it and used as bait to "get back", with no one realizing the damage and pain it is causing everyone, especially, the children and grandchildren.
This kind of nonsense needs to stop and families begin to heal!
So, yes indeed, emotions destroy and are far reaching!
Do this strike a bell with anyone reading this today?
This should be printed in the front of every copy of the Twilight book series…
You beat me to the punch Dave…I was floored when I read that yesterday…amazing account.
Inspired DZ: the reality of recognizing that so much of the crap that we go through is not about others but about us and our internal fears and resentments, and the answer is not to give in but to give grace – one way love – not expecting anything back… Great Post
…"we know that ALL true ducking comes from God, who is the author of all human inactivity."
Nicely said Michael!
I agree John! Michael nailed it because I instantly worry whether or not I am ducking the punches in my own marriage. Am I rising above the stuff that is not about me? Most of the time, I have to say, I do not. But whenever it does happen it is the pure grace of God over-ruling my desire to "pick up" stuff that isn't mine.
Praise God it is not up to me.
Thanks Dave, Aaron, and Michael:)
Well said, KP!