I knew my choices were putting me on a path I didn’t want to be on. Despite my angst, part of me really wanted my marriage to work. We went to counseling. I endured the pain of seeing the impact of my actions on him. I made no excuses. I sought to regain his trust, but when I returned to his home after graduation, a deep, deep sadness overcame me.
We simply could not be what we wanted each other to be. We did not share the same outlook on life. We differed on how to deal with his children as they acted out with increasingly upsetting behaviors. He wanted a very traditional marriage and I wanted a career, friends, intellectual stimulation…I wanted what the women in my life before me wanted and never achieved.
As no woman in my family before me had sought to do (although my mother was soon to follow), I divorced my husband.
I remember driving to Chicago and experiencing the distinct feeling of freefall. I had lost my anchoring points. With no home to go back to and all my worldly possessions in my rental truck, I was heading off for my doctoral internship. I was broke. With only a gas card to my name and hefty college credit card debt, I relied heavily on convenience food between paydays. Armed with bottles of Gatorade and bags of Doritos, I strode forth in my newfound independence.
Despite the pain I had caused (and suffered) I was proud of myself for leaving my marriage. I believe my husband would have stayed with me, possibly forever, despite my actions. When we divorced he asked if we could still maintain our physical relationship. I told him no. I had stepped onto a road with destination unseen because I had decided my integrity was more important than my security. This was the first truly conscious decision I had made in my adult life — the decision to regain my own self-respect.
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