Walking Out

Why Leaving My Marriage Was the Best Decision I Made

In September 2023 I walked out on my marriage. The moment I did it, I knew it was the right decision.

In the weeks leading up to my 2019 wedding, I felt it faintly: I was not happy. The argument over the cost of the reception venue wasn’t the issue. It was a prelude to what was to come, a quiet warning I chose to ignore. The argument didn’t create the feeling; it exposed what was already there.

Despite my misgivings, I told myself I was happy because marriage was what I had always wanted. But was it really? I spent years reflecting and writing about my single status, never understanding why I was still unattached. I was in my 40s and I wanted to be married. I cringe at the fact that I had been so obsessed with getting married that I created a blog declaring to the world how confounding it was for me to still be single. My life had become all about finding a man to marry and then writing about it. I barely even considered the person with whom I would embark on this journey. Falling in love was the expectation, but not my main motivation. My old-fashioned sensibilities had me craving marriage in order to have children. When I accepted the heartbreaking news that I could not have a child of my own, I settled for just getting married, which to me was synonymous with being wanted, loved and cared for.

I’m not sorry I got married. The experience has helped me understand myself better. But I married the wrong man, someone already emotionally broken. Maybe I was broken, too, but I had come into the relationship already working hard to heal myself through talk therapy and continuous self-reflection.

Two people who are emotionally wounded cannot make a marriage work unless they are both willing to do whatever it takes to keep their union alive and strong. We were not those two people who did whatever it took. The more emotionally abandoned I felt, the more I pulled away, keeping all of my feelings of dejection locked inside of me until they would uncontrollably burst out in the most inopportune moments.

I said before that I married the wrong man. Let me make it clear that he also married the wrong woman. We were not a good fit. Though I could say that I was somewhat content with our union for about the first two years, I recall when I did start to feel that my marriage to him no longer served me. I did not feel emotionally safe when I was with him, and as a result, was not motivated to try to make it work. I clung to “till death do us part” because that was the promise I had made. Secretly, (and I’m quite ashamed to admit this) as he was nearly 20 years my senior, I quietly wondered if his poor diet would shorten his life and free me from my vows. Let me explain.

During the course of our relationship, I found myself being subjected to a pattern of emotional dismissal, comments meant to insult and shame me, and feeling limited within a marriage that was beyond saving. If I spoke on the phone with my twin sister for too long, there was a problem. Because morning walks with the puppy were my responsibility, I reluctantly asked him to start walking our dog in the mornings so that I can write my novel upon waking up. His immediate response was irritation, asking me how long I expected this to go on. Once, he explicitly reprimanded me for always disagreeing with him and I said nothing. No, it’s not all his fault. I never spoke up. I silenced myself if only to keep us from arguing incessantly. In silencing myself, I condoned his selfish behavior. Lost in my own unhappiness, I no longer knew who I was. Where was the real me hiding?

Speaking up for myself was the catalyst that gave me the courage to finally escape a four-year marriage in which I felt trapped. I felt myself shrinking in the presence of a man who did not understand my need to feel appreciated. My upbringing included showing gratitude to people who bestowed even the smallest of kindnesses to me. I’ll never forget the argument we had when I finally insisted that I needed to hear his appreciation when the situation called for it. Was it so wrong to request a “thank you” when I loaned him twenty dollars to buy himself some lunch because he had forgotten his wallet at home? He maintained that he was not going to thank me for every little thing and that I should stop badgering him about it. We yelled at each other, each of us bringing up minor infractions from our shared past and presenting them to the other to justify our claims. Those were just a few of my many grievances. But weren’t they enough?

I left a man who did not understand why we were not a good match. I was done trying to get him to recognize my point of view. I was done trying to keep the peace. I was done pretending that we would be okay when we were clearly not. If a husband and wife keep having the same argument over and over, then it’s time to realize that there are some things that won’t change. In the end, the trivial arguments were no longer about small things. They were proof that our marriage wasn’t working.

I walked away from a man who seemed to truly believe that he was a good partner. After months of arguing and marriage counseling, I realized I could not make him see what I understood: he was not a good husband to me, and I was not a good wife to him. So, I chose to step away because together, we were headed to a place that did not benefit either of us.

After years of progressing in therapy before meeting him, I felt myself gradually regressing: constantly depressed, unable to write, hiding the truth from myself and my family, and losing sleep over my inner turmoil. So, I walked out. It was easier than I expected for two reasons: I was already emotionally drained, and I had the support of my twin sister and my cousins. Once I made the decision, I never looked back. I remember the lightness in my spirit as I slept on my sister’s couch that night. I had found the woman I had been hiding, the one who had once desperately wished for marriage. And for the first time in years, I felt it deep within my soul: I was genuinely happy.