Looking back at all my posts recently, I had to laugh. One of the first was called "Should I Stay or Should I Go?" That could be the title for all my posts, for my entire blog, and indeed for my life!
In my early posts, I waffled, now and then seemingly determined to pursue one course of action, only to change my mind a week later. But mostly I described my relationship with Rob as something damaged. The question was, and remains: Is it irrevocably so?
Today as a warm breeze drifts through my study window and my thoughts flow easily through my head and onto the page, I feel more comfortable in my apartment with Rob, indeed in my own skin, than I've felt in a while.
Some fellow FWW bloggers and readers say don't make a move until you're certain, and when you're certain, you'll know it. Others say I owe it to myself to leave. The latter is not unwarranted or unhelpful advice, but I don't know anything for certain, and I think I'm going to stay put for now. Feels right.
As memories of six days of sea and jungle explorations sink in, my eyes open to an old truth about myself.
Years ago I toyed with thoughts of Peace Corp service, working my way around the globe, or a job "in country" with an NGO. When my ability was questioned by parents fearful of such a life, and as my debts rose, I abandoned those dreams. I came to think them ridiculous. (Handy mechanism, to reject away what you actually love but cannot have. It makes the not-having easier to bear!)
But seeking cross-cultural connections and serving others are the only things I've ever felt called to do. Now I'm curious: Can I tap into the strength of purpose I've always had down deep and honor my interests and pursue my dreams?
These days I have more tools in my toolbox and take much better care of my emotional self. Debt can be managed, and my relationship with Rob doesn't have to keep me stuck. Where before I saw obstacles, I now see creative ways to manage concerns. I see opportunity.
I'm back from a girlfriend getaway in paradise. Travels with a best friend off the beaten path awakened more joy in me and soothed my soul, but also left me wondering...
Why can't I capture a sense of fun and wonder in the every day life I already have? Why do I put up with pressures and jobs and people I don't like? Because I think I'm resigned to my lot and can't effect change for the better?
Why do I feel so stuck here in Boston, but I was free as a bird in Mexico?
One idea: I was wearing no wedding ring. I wasn't seeking romantic or sexual attention from men. But I think the ringless finger — and people's assumptions about my lack of attachment — invited more open responses and deeper interactions than I would have otherwise experienced.
One afternoon my traveling companion and I looked up from our reading to see a man snorkeling in the heavy surf. Curious. He emerged onto the beach with a string of fish and spear. We dropped our books and marched over to investigate. He saw us approach and waited to show us his catch of red snapper, octopus, and lobster.
Couples therapy stretches out before me like a never-ending road, barely undulating, ascending only the gentlest slopes, never turning corners that so desperately need to be turned. There is no question the road goes somewhere better than our present location...but only eventually.
Indeed, the question before me is one of time. Am I willing to invest a few good years — my fleeting youth — in building a better relationship with my troubled husband?
No doubt such an investment has the potential to pay off big. A couple that goes through hardship and works together to find a solution can come out the other side stronger than ever.
But do I want to sacrifice the open window of opportunities in the present for pay off so far down the road?
Today in therapy it was clear Rob is capable of making breakthroughs that will allow him insight and room to find new behaviors that will make him easier to live with. But the more progress he makes, I'm worried the bigger the expectation (on his part and our therapist's) that I should stick around for the pay off.
When the pressure of work, family drama, and troubled marriage overwhelm, I fantasize about leaving town, changing my name, and dropping off the grid for a small but self-sufficient life in the southwestern desert. I don't have much money of my own, but then I don't imagine needing much.
A beat up truck, a dog as companion, and a cozy adobe cottage — that's all I'll need. A pressure-free job at a local dive would pay the bills. I'll be perfectly content writing, exploring desert canyons, and kicking back with a few new friends over beer on rusty porch chairs. No father with Alzheimer's disease to worry about, no student loans to pay, no ambitious career or lifestyle plans in a fast-paced, high-priced northeastern city to frustrate the calm.
Such is my escape fantasy. Do we all have one? Do some people act on them? Are they the brave or crazy among us? I suppose that depends on how troubled their lives were, on how likely they could heal or remain safe, staying put.
This weekend a scientific conference created the opportunity for a convergence of Rob's old friends. Once a close-knit group of graduate school students, these men and women pursued jobs in their particular specialties and settled in various far-flung states and countries.
I had long ago grown close to them through Rob, but given our recent troubles, this time they didn't feel like my old friends. They were his.
It was tough to dutifully play the part of doting wife as brunches with other couples turned into walks around the old neighborhood, drinks at the pub, and eventually dinner as well. That's many hours of reminiscing and, eventually, tired smiles...
Talk focused on weddings, births, and — this gang's ultimate milestone — the defense seminars that concluded their graduate studies. It took me back to my first couple years with Rob, when every few months we were participating in the celebration of someone's landmark event.
We pub-crawled after friends' dissertation defenses, hosted graduation parties, and traveled the country for weddings. Our courtship was lined with others' milestones.
I just learned about Living Apart Together (LAT). Interesting idea. (Isn't that what Woody and Mia did, only to have their sense of family diluted enough that Woody took up with his wife's adopted daughter? Eww.)
But from the sounds of it, others make it work, and in living apart, they find the freedom to stay together as a couple.
What about the opposite? Allow me to coin the term Living Together Apart (LTA!). As in someone moves into the guestroom and the former couple shares the apartment equally as roommates, and no intimate relationship continues.
I bet Rob would go for it. And this way I get to keep my favorite study intact, continue to receive the affections of my cat, and stay in my beloved neighborhood!
