Divorceable Offense

A scenario arose this morning wherein Kevin said if that same thing happened to him, relationships would end. Something about that bothered me. After I thought about it a bit, I realized something. There are "divorceable offenses" in our marriage, and I have named none of them. If I got pregnant without planning it with Kevin, that would absolutely be a divorceable offense. If I got a dog, divorceable offense. Hell, if I get my eyebrows done, that's a divorceable offense. 

I have never drawn such a line in the sand. 

I have never threatened to withhold affection if someone makes a decision I don't like. I've never even threatened divorce if he ever cheats. I mean, I'd take all the money from the joint account, but I wouldn't threaten. It feels manipulative and controlling. He grows thin-lipped about my orange hair, because he doesn't like warm colors. I can't decorate with them or wear them, especially yellow. I can't have bangs or wear red lipstick. He made me promise before we got married that I wouldn't get fat.

These things make me feel terrible about myself. 

Had Kevin and I just been dating, when he forgot my birthday, I would have dumped him. It was that big of a deal to me; it hurt that much; it signified that much to me about the nature of our relationship. It's not the first event to occur in our marriage that would have ended us had we been dating. But that is the nature of marriage, the "for better or for worse" idea, that you don't give up, even if you want to. I asked for marriage counseling, but I never used the word "divorce." 

I didn't even use it at six months into our marriage, when I could have left without regret. I would have been happier, had closure. But I was too depressed to face that prospect. I was afraid. I was afraid of admitting defeat. I was afraid of what people would think. I was afraid of being alone. And I was afraid of breaking my covenants. Not with Kevin but with God.

So, even though I was the injured party, though I struggled against the darkest depression of my life, I was the one to repair the relationship. As I had ever done.

During later bad times, I stayed because what other choice did I have? I felt lonely and overburdened; leaving would have made it worse. But that's becoming less and less the case. 

Studies show that there are three most common times for divorce. The first is in the first year of marriage, when the couple involved recognize that they made an honest mistake. They don't want the same things and shouldn't be married. The third one is the "empty-nest stage" when the kids are out of the house and the glue that held the couple together is gone. The middle one was eye opening to me: the child self-sufficiency age. This is when the oldest enters high school or the youngest enters kindergarten. Or, in other words, when parents finally have a bit of time to reevaluate and realize that their children are old enough to handle change. 

I'm currently in the second phase. I started back to school when Katie started kindergarten, and I will have a highly marketable skill by the time Andrew enters high school. Many of my reasons for staying during bad times are dissolving, the practical reasons, anyway. And still, I have never used the word "divorce."

Why not? 

First, because I don't want to be like my parents.

Second, because I have made covenants. Sometimes, I feel trapped by a choice, which, in hindsight, I  made in ignorance as a dumb kid. I wonder at a system that would reward me for keeping my covenants by continuing forever the marriage that I struggled through in life. Luckily, I believe in an all-loving, all-wise, all-powerful God. I definitely feel mad at Him at times, even resentful, but I believe He'll forgive me for that, too. Like a parent when their toddler yells at them.

Third, because I have never defined anything as a "divorceable offense." I have never looked at someone I love and thought, only insomuch as you do things my way. I have never made love conditional. I have never been unforgiving. For a short time, sure. I have to work through my anger, same as anyone. But I do. I have never thought, "in good times, in richness, and in health."

And, fourth, because I believe in sticking it out through the bad, I can attest that good times come again. And they will.