Who are you doing this for?

When I first starting going back to therapy in February, it was spurred by the first bad episode after the adoption was final. Episode. How I ever landed on that euphemism is beyond me. Let’s start calling things what they really are, shall we?

Things had been good for nearly two months, with the excitement of our first Christmas with the boys and the finalization of the adoption. I really thought the last time was the last time. I was lulled into a false sense of hope. Or maybe I lulled myself into the false sense of hope through sheer force of determination.

So when the next abusive incident occurred, I finally reached out to schedule a therapy appointment. By the time the appointment actually occurred two weeks later, we were in the honeymoon phase. My question had morphed from “What the hell is going on?” to “How do I stay in this marriage and help my husband cope?”

In my head, that little cycle was like a bubble churning wildly around, all the while rising slowly through the darkness toward the surface of the water. When it reached the surface, it sat there for a little while, still spinning, but spinning in the clarity of the sunshine. And then I reached out and popped it with the word “divorce.”

I began going to therapy for my children and my husband. How could I support them? What tools did I need to help them cope? I was fine. Of course I was fine. I was there for them. When the bubble finally reached the surface, with the help of that therapy, I decided I needed to get a divorce for the sake of my children; to protect them. I am not sure if we are in just another protracted honeymoon/calm/tension building phase, or if my husband might actually be making progress. Regardless, my children seem safe for now, and my decision still stands. So who am I really doing this for?

When you are protecting your children, the situation is really very black and white. Over the last few months, a lot of my conversations in therapy have been about the ways in which I had been ignoring the gaps in the relationship; the places where my needs were not being met. I ignored them because I was focused on his needs.

My friend B once told me that it didn’t have to be so black and white; that if I was unhappy, I could just leave. Why is it difficult to admit that I am doing this for me? Why did the safety of my children have to be the catalyst? Why is the importance of my needs a grey area, and the importance of others’ needs black and white?

Why does saying that I want a divorce because I was unhappy smack of selfishness instead of valuing the quality of my life? I was raised by two feminists in an time and place where the equality of women is the norm, and yet I am still conditioned to believe that wives and mothers should be entirely selfless. So if we are finally going to call and episode an abusive incident, let’s continue the trend of honesty.

I am doing this for me. I shouldn’t feel guilty about that, but for now, I do.