Fences & Cages

Years ago, my friend H said to me "You have to the leave the miserable marriage you are in to get the marriage you want." She was struggling in her marriage at the time. Her mother-in-law was the "other woman," the person her husband deferred to instead of her. H hated it. So, she made a plan and told her husband that the marriage was over. She was going to leave the following year when her youngest graduated from high school. She gave me the same advice she gave herself.

"You need to leave, Lauren," H said. "You are miserable. You need to walk away."

H is kind of bossy that way, but I love her nonetheless. Of course, I did not take her advice. I had thought it was stupid, but her husband got the memo loud and clear. He decided on his own free will that he needed H as his wife more than he needed to make his mom happy.

"You are my everything," he said, sobbing. It wasn't just tears that fixed the problem that made H running back. To her husband's credit, he changed. She didn't nag him. She threw a boundary.

"I need a husband who puts me first before his mother," she said. "If that is you, great. If not, I am moving on."

I've been thinking about this in contrast to some bad advice I got from a kind and well meaning marriage therapist.

"If you leave Jack, he will be married in six months to someone younger. He will likely start a new family," Janice said. "And you will be alone."

I paused.

"I've seen it before. This is what happens," she said. The unspoken advice was "Stick it out, no matter how miserable you are. Your happiness and well-being doesn't matter." This was an invitation to be co-dependent, not interdependent or independent. 

Now, I know better. Janice's advice--as well meaning as it was--was bullshit. If Jack were to dump for someone younger, so be it. Why should I have been miserable? To keep him from being happy with a new, chicky wife?

I realize now that H was right. In order to get the marriage I want, I need to leave the marriage I am in. 

How did I end up in this spot in the first place? How did it get so bad? 

Last year, my friend Anderson and I had a conversation about "Do people change?" His point of view is that over time, people are basically the same, that they don't change. I agree with him for the most part. My view is instead of people changing, circumstances change. When situations change, we see new features in ourselves and others. COVID season is a perfect example. We now know which of our friends are germophobes, and which people think wearing a mask to save the lives of elderly people with health issues is a stupid idea. 

Which brings me to my theory of marriage and fences. When cows enter a new field, they circle the perimeter, pushing against all of the fences to see if they are safe. Like cattle, people test boundaries to see if they feel safe. In relationships, we find people who fit in our fences. We don't necessarily set boundaries at first, because the people e choose might already fit inside our fence. We feel safe. For example, I would not want to be in a relationship with a coke-head or someone who did heroin. Jack never did coke or heroin, so I never had to set that as boundary in our relationship. If I would have said "I don't want to be in a relationship with someone who uses cocaine" when we first met, he would have said, "Sounds good to me." No argument would have ensued.

As life evolves, we encounter new territory and our boundaries change. We need to continue to test the fence. Suppose a young couple meets, and they both like to have fun. By fun, I mean party. They both fit in each other's fence at the time. Then they have kids. One person wants to be a responsible parent and stops partying. The other continues to party. Conflict ensues. They both might love each other, but the non-partier might say "I want to be in a relationship with a person who view parenthood as a serious responsibility." The other might still want to party. Then what?

What I used to do was bitch to Jack about the new territory, the changed area within the fence. Suddenly, we didn't agree on where the boundaries should be, nor did we know how to talk about it. Before, we had fit so nicely inside each other's fences before, we really didn't need to discuss boundaries. 

Then we did.

I thought an "I statement" was a complaint that started out with "I." I was wrong. "I statements" are about me, not about him. After more than a year of therapy, I finally figured it out this week. Before, I had thought an I statement was "I am bothered when you work too much" which is putting the blame back on Jack. "I want to be in a relationship with someone who has a healthy relationship with their job" is about me. It isn't about Jack. It is about what I want in a relationship.

Which brings me to cages. Why did I take Janice's advice at first instead of H's? 

Fear.

Janice's advice kept me in the cage. Janice's advice was fear-based. H's advice was faith based. The bars keeping me in the cage of my marriage were fear. No one was forcing me to stay. I didn't have the faith to leave the cage. And to be completely fair, this wasn't making Jack happy, either. He had to live with a disgruntled wife, which isn't fun. H's advice is scary, sure. I don't know what will happen if I take her advice, and that is the point. I can have faith that my life will be better, with or without Jack. And life will better for Jack, too.

What's next? I am not sure, but whatever it is it will be okay. 

In the meantime, I am enjoying Montana.

Wild roses

The Boy fly fishing