It’s never easy to end a relationship, especially if it’s a good, healthy relationship.
You might be asking yourself, “well, why end it then?” Because for the first time in my life, I need to take care of me, focus on me, and live a life for me.
Selfish? Not in the least.
Women are taught that putting ourselves first is wrong and oh so selfish. We must always give, always sacrifice, always put our needs below everyone else’s. As a wife and mother, it is our job and our duty to take care of the kids, to be a good partner, to fulfill all the obligations such a role requires. Add a career to that and we begin to juggle so much that we lose who we are in the process. While there’s a societal shift happening, women still are the primary caregivers for children, and women still do too much emotional labor for the men in our lives. When I was in the thick of my marriage and being a mother to my daughter and two stepsons, I tried not to lose myself. But it was difficult. My daily life consisted of school drop offs and pickups, of homework, of working at the day job, of cleaning and cooking, of being a partner to my husband (though it wasn’t an equitable partnership at all). My life centered around my husband and children, and I never had any need to think of a life all on my own. I didn’t want that. Not then.
Fast forward to now.
I want that life. Desperately.
A life of my own, with no man to center it around.
How Did I Get Here?
Life is a journey, and I firmly believe that we are meant to grow and change. Staying stagnant creates disillusionment and bitterness. Too many of us refuse to change our beliefs, to open our minds to new ideas and opportunities, content to maintain the status quo.
That was me for awhile. I stayed in an abusive marriage for far too long, eighteen years to be exact. When my then-husband cheated on me and left, my world crumbled and I had to rebuild. Therapy and time helped heal me, but there were certain ideas and beliefs I stubbornly clung to. One of them, instilled in me (and practically every other little girl on the planet) was the idea that I needed a man to be complete and happy. (Hello, Disney? You have a lot to answer for with that whole, “She met a prince and lived happily ever after.”) So after the divorce and a few years of taking the time to properly recover, I began dating again. There was this deep, unyielding ache inside of me that I thought only a man could fill. So after kissing a lot of frogs (and also meeting some pretty great guys who became friends), I met a man who I began a relationship with that lasted more than four years. He was kind, considerate, respectful, and loving. We shared the same morals and values, and enjoyed traveling and spending time together.
But I frequently squashed that inner voice that said, “You need to live a life for you, not a man, and not anyone else. YOU.”
For the entirety of my life, I’ve put a man and a relationship at the center. I made huge decisions based on that mentality. Because I met the man who would be my husband, I didn’t pursue my dreams of studying abroad. I didn’t send in that one additional letter of recommendation to the College of William and Mary because I was in love. I let that aching need to be loved by a man overshadow what I really wanted: to travel, to study history, to get out of Nebraska and see the world.
After the divorce, I decided to try again. I applied to go to graduate school in England. I was accepted, but didn’t have the financial means to make it happen, and shelved that plan. But I still thought I needed a man, and I went looking until I found one.
But that voice wouldn’t be quiet. Last year, I began to read into the feminist notion of “de-centering” men, and it was a revelation. Other women were having the same realization I was, that they’d put their own lives on hold because they were too focused on centering men just like I was.
That started the process. I bought books about finding my authentic self, began to really focus on what I wanted out of life. And what did I want?
To write. To travel. To move to England. To spend time doing what I wanted to do. After all, this is my life, right? I get to call the shots and make the decisions. ME.
But it also meant I had some hard choices to make.
The Beginning of the End
When my boyfriend and I moved in together, initially I was ecstatic. No more packing a bag every weekend to stay at his place, no more back and forth to each other’s apartments. We’d be together and it would be wonderful.
It was wonderful - at first. But as time progressed, I began to feel worse mentally and physically. My chronic illnesses flared more often, and I couldn’t figure out why. I began to resent him for tiny, unimportant stuff: not wiping off the stove after he cooked, leaving dishes in the sink, etc., etc. Some of that is perfectly normal when you live together. But I had always had a very, very difficult time living with people. I had my own room growing up, and craved my solitude and space. Even in college, I had a hard time having roommates, and lived by myself my senior year.
But something else was wrong, too. The more I began to dig into my inner self and really discover who I was and what I wanted, the more I didn’t want to be in a relationship. But how do you tell a man you love and who loves you that you don’t want to be together anymore because…well, because you want to be alone?
This wasn’t a decision I came to lightly. For a year, I wrangled with my emotions, writing pages in my journal to try and figure out what kind of seismic shift was happening in my soul. I talked to friends, read books, took a trip to Scotland to try and sort out my feelings. I knew one thing for sure: I needed my own space. So I moved out of our shared home, and we each found our own places again.
From there, everything started falling into place. In my own apartment, I could breathe again, could be me again. And even more interesting, I felt better mentally and physically. One night, while journaling, I came to a rather startling conclusion: my body goes into fight or flight mode when I live with a man. My abusive, 18-yr-marriage was so full of drama and anguish that my poor nervous system got all screwed up, and that led directly to me developing fibromyalgia and ME/CFS. But when I backtracked even further, I realized I had already had trauma from my childhood. My dad’s explosive anger dominated our lives. I remember walking around on eggshells when he was in one of his moods, terrified to set him off. While he didn’t abuse us, being around male anger set off all my alarm bells.
My boyfriend and I never fought, and I never saw him lose his temper. But my body didn’t understand the difference. He was a man, and thus, capable of anger (and yes, men can absolutely be angry just as women can be, but when men get angry…well. It’s different. Women, I know you know.) And because he was a man, my body/brain did not feel safe.
I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t ever want to live with a man again.
So, yes, we were still together, and I thought maybe we could make it work since I had my space and he had his. Again, I tried to silence the inner voice that kept screaming at me, and again, I stayed in the relationship even though it wasn’t what I wanted.
Finally, last week, the dam broke. It was time. The voice would no longer be silenced. I had to start listening to myself. To his credit, my now ex-boyfriend was amazingly understanding. But after he left and I bawled my eyes out, I wondered if I’d made a mistake. Four years is a long time, and I knew I would miss him. The next morning, however, peace settled over my shoulders, like a warm blanket straight out of the dryer. I knew then I’d made the right decision.
Tonight, as I sit here writing this in my cozy living room, I’m listening to soft music, my cat sleeping beside me, completely content. My new life has begun.
I am so excited to spend more time on my writing, to focus on my goal of moving to England. I’m proud of myself for having the courage to make an incredibly hard decision. I’m growing and changing, and though it hasn’t been easy, it’s been worth it. I’m finally living my life for me and no one else.
