On Divorce: The "You Just Didn't Try Hard Enough" Myth

In late December, my (then) partner and I decided to get a divorce.

The reasons for the divorce are complicated and their own story, one that is between my ex-partner and myself. The Cliff Notes are that for a myriad of reasons, not being together as a couple anymore was the best decision for our family. There were issues on both sides, no one is to blame, and we had A LOT of very important, mature conversations that, frankly, should have happened long before a wedding. A few weeks after my ex moved out, our three and a half year old kid looked at us and said, "thank you for not fighting anymore." I think that explains enough. 

What I feel the need to write about are the reactions. I didn't know what to expect from friends and family (and, as I was soon to find out, strangers). I had kept many of my relationship "issues" away from family, not wanting to harm our image as a couple should we work things out, so it came as a surprise to some of them. Though, for the most part, family and friends (especially) have been supportive, there is a certain rhetoric around divorce that really started to bother me.

"Marriage is hard. You just need to try harder."

I understand where this statement comes from. We live in a culture of seventy-two day marriages, marriages for money, marriages for fame -- there is this idea that marriage isn't taken "seriously" anymore, or that committed relationships in general aren't taken seriously anymore. However, the "marriage is hard" argument has become overused, and when dealing with someone who has tried and tried and realizes that their family is heading down a dark path and divorce is the only way out, a very hurtful and damaging statement.

Marriage IS hard. It's hard living with someone, communicating with someone, making your needs and desires known, sharing a life -- talking about finances, the "boring, adult" stuff. All of that is hard. And marriage takes compromise. It takes each person waking up every morning and choosing to make the relationship work. However, compromise is different than sacrifice. What I found myself doing was sacrificing fundamental parts of myself to try and make the relationship work. I don't blame my ex for this, I did that to myself, but I somehow had lost myself in an effort to do the "right thing" and all it did was hurt my partner and my son. And "hard" is different than "difficult" or a "constant uphill battle." Yes, there will be arguments and disagreements, but every day shouldn't be a battle. Every day shouldn't feel like either walking on eggshells or trudging through a foot of mud. 

Had I realized that earlier, I would have saved us both a lot of pain.

When I first started telling people about the divorce, a lot of response I got was that "choosing love" idea. But it takes two people for a relationship to work. It takes trust, communication, openness, and honesty -- things my ex and I had lost or never had. 

Divorce is an incredibly personal, difficult decision. And, what it comes down to, is that no one, but the people in it, knows the dynamics of the relationship. When we first made the decision, I had my week of crying, of freaking out, of feeling lost. But then I gathered myself up and starting working towards making the best life I can for myself and my kid. Many people took my pragmatic, positive attitude as either not caring or the divorce being solely my decision. If I've learned anything from becoming a mother, and now going through a divorce, it's that I can't control how other people act or what they say, but I can control how I react and how those things make me feel.

I know there are a lot of people out there who are disappointed in me. Who maybe think I didn't try hard enough. But, over the last few months, I have felt a sense of relief, of a weight lifted off my shoulders. I've been a better mother -- more patient and understanding. My kid has had less emotional breakdowns at school, has been a better listener, and has overall had a more positive attitude. That tension in the home is gone. I would rather my kid have two parents that are separated, but happy, than parents who try to stay together "for the kid" and spend their relationship miserable and fighting.

Now, instead, we are attempting to co-parent from separate households -- both still very active in our son's life. My ex may not be my husband anymore, but he always and forever will be our son's dad, and we will always be our son's parents. And he still is, as he always has been, an incredible father.

So, yes, I've become part of a statistic. But I'm learning that it's okay for me to do what I know is best for my family, despite what others think. It all goes back to that old metaphor about putting on your own oxygen mask first. I don't think that's selfish. If I am going to be a good mom (and eventually a good partner again), I need to make sure I'm taking care of myself, too -- that includes physical, emotional, and intellectual needs. 

I know I'll hold a stigma -- maybe only for a little while, maybe forever -- but I have learned more about myself, love, and relationships over the past four years than I ever have in my life. For that I am thankful. 

And I know that if a friend ever comes to me in the same situation, I won't fall back on "marriage is hard," or "well, did you try?" or "love is a choice." Instead, I'll offer support. I'll be someone to listen. I'll help with a new budget, or childcare, or going out for drinks -- whatever that person needs. The best response I ever heard was, "I'm sorry this happened to you. What can I do to be supportive?"

A Queer Marriage

Same-sex marriage is a no brainer for me. Of course I agree with it. So, what the rhetoric of Proposition 8 did for me was make me question marriage’s purpose and why I decided to participate.

            “Back in the day” marriage was a construct to keep “bloodlines” clean and help with the perpetuation of the species (too much interbreeding equals the tribe or colony dying out). Through property rights, marriage created a “secure environment” for its participants. It was another social construct that maintained order. Marriage, in essence, maintained order. Then, sometime in the 1500’s, the proverbial “They” decided marriages needed to be attended by a priest and witnesses, making marriage “sin-saving” and blessed. At one point, love even got thrown into the mix.

            Now, it’s the 21^st century: where couples meet in virtual realities over the internet, where government has granted rights, from citizenship to tax deductions and inclusion of benefits, for married couples, and where love seems to have become a central aspect. Men and women both earn educations and paying jobs and can *gasp* own their own property! So, what really is the point of marriage anymore?

            Benefits, of course. But there seems to be a general frowning upon marriage for convenience. For the majority of the population, marriage takes on some sort of faith-based role, whether it is seen as a sacrament like in the Catholic church, or as the ideal state for a man and a woman in Jewish tradition, or practicing a ritual such as handfasting in pagan culture, many people view marriage as a part of their faith/spirituality. But what of us who do not view marriage as part of some sort of spiritual faith? Why do we do it?

            If you type into Google “reasons to get married” the top five reasons, across websites are:  1. Companionship, 2.  Romance, 3. Household support, 4. Family, and 5. Financial security.

            This is interesting. I have a life-long companion that I trust and love, who I know is faithful and will be. We even have a family, under one roof, together and although our finances aren’t legally tied, we share our incomes. And we aren't married.

There seems to be this misconception in our culture that if you don’t “put a ring on it” there is no security in the relationship. And, in certain cases, even when a ring is put on it, there are pre-nuptials, just in case. This says a lot about our society’s view of trust and its issues with monogamy (of course, I’m not taking into account polygamist/polyamorous/open relationship marriages -  how they subvert and redefine stereotypical notions of marriage is a post for another day). One website read, “Marriage provides security that part of the couple can’t just leave.” The divorce rate in the US defies this statement.

            There has also been a trend recently where people have decided not to get married until their same-sex couple friends can. Although this action has a great sentiment, and can help raise awareness, there are better actions to take. Rather than deny yourself a celebration of love and commitment (or whatever your reasons), why not take a percentage (or all) of your wedding present money and donate it to the FCKH8 campaign or Marriage Equality USA. Or, cut your $5,000 wedding budget to $1200 and donate that money. Gather donated weddings dresses and sell them at auction and donate the proceeds. The activist possibilities are endless and I feel that cancelling the wedding becomes something passive that does nothing to change the system.

            Really, what this comes down to, is questioning why marriage is seen as a goal and as something life-affirming in our society. I don’t think there is a wrong reason to get married, just that we, as a society, don’t tend to put conscious thought into why we get married (and I haven’t even touched on how over-industrialized the wedding industry is!).  Maybe it’s something as simple, like for Funk and I, as wanting to throw a celebration to share our love and commitment for one another with our community and maybe it’s something as complicated as spirituality and tradition. Whatever the reason, as with most values and actions in life, it’s important to know why. And should everyone be able to participate? Hell yes.

Babies & Marriages are Not Mutually Inclusive

Many of my hetero, newly married friends are often amazed by the responses they get to “Yay! We are married!” The questions that follow sometimes ask about the honeymoon or ask about the wedding but 85% of the time the first question is: “So, when are you going to have children?” For some friends, the answer is easy – “right away,” “never,” “in a few years” – but for others, who already know about personal, forthcoming issues with infertility, or who have already decided on adoption, the answer gets a little tricky. Not to mention, the assumption that just because one is in a hetero-marriage means they will start procreating is problematic.

                For Funk and I, we had the opposite question. As soon as friends and family found out about the invisible manufacturing of Droidlet, after a moment of surprise (more usually, shock) the first question was some variation on “So when/are you going to get married?” Then, Funk and I would stare blankly, probably with our mouths slightly open. We were about to have a BABY (?!?!?!?!!!!!!!). We weren’t thinking about wedding bells and doves.

                From one side of my family, I understood this. They are Catholic, so in their eyes, Funk and I should have been ushered up to the altar before Droidlet was even a bump on my belly, given our sacred blessing, and “Oh! So funny that Droidlet’s first birthday is only six months after your first wedding anniversary! *insert denial laughter*” I remember a very awkward conversation over Japanese food with my nana: “Wait, you’re not getting married before the baby is born?” A shake of our heads and then the nana stare; that not-quite-a-glare-but-you-know-I-disapprove kind.

                Funk and I had only been together for three months when Droidlet production began. There was no way we were going to rush into a marriage. The whole “stay together for the kids” can be damaging – I’m thankful my parents didn’t do that or my childhood would have been much more miserable. I never knew them as a couple so I never missed them as a couple. And yes, growing up with separated parents comes with its own set of hard to buckle baggage, but so does growing up in a home with constant fighting and miserable parents. Instead, I have four amazing parents and two incredible brothers from each of their new unions.

                As it turns out, Funk and I love each other and want to be together for the rest of our lives. In part because we have our little family that we began and want to continue to build together. In part.  I’d like to think, though, that if we had found neither of us were happy  and that our ability as parents would be better apart, that we would have made that decision – not just for us, but for Droidlet. Our decision to get married is mostly because he is (and I am for him) the person I choose to go on this adventure with for a million and one reasons – yes, to raise a family, but also to travel and watch Dr. Who with, because he genuinely likes my vegan food even though he’s a carnivore and because we both want Droidlet growing up in a home where gender, sexuality, and identity is questioned/explored/expressed.  

                Of course, when I hear this: “If you were a car, you would have a racing stripe” (Funk’s way of telling me I’m lookin’ hot), I know he’s the one for me. Funk is, literally, my best friend. So, of course he is the one I want to hang out with everyday and make this commitment to. (Caveat: The philosophy behind marriage, the way its industrialized, the battle for gay, lesbian, transgender, transsexual, bisexual, queer  couples in marriage, and what marriage means for us is going to be hitting this blog quite often, so I won’t go into all of those details right now.)

                What it comes down to, on either end of the spectrum, is that it would be great to hear responses to both newly-weds and newly pregnant couples be “Congrats! You’re in for an adventure.”