Dear Cary,
For over a decade I promised myself I would move out of the house the day my youngest went off to college. For years I've lived with a drinking, underemployed, pessimistic drag of a mate. Nothing so awful I couldn't hold out for the sake of the children, but always enough that I knew it wasn't forever.
Well, the youngest is out the door soon, and my husband, perhaps aware there would soon be nothing to keep me attached, has suddenly become the loving, attentive, sober, amply employed spouse every woman desires. The problem is, I long ago mentally checked out, and can't seem to emotionally reengage. Does this new behavior count for anything, since it is obviously forced, something he could have done years ago, and clearly fake, in order to keep me around? Should I stay and try to relearn to love him? Or should I remember the 15 years I wasn't happy and get out now while I am able and while things seem so peaceful? What's a fun-loving, out-of-love girl to do?
Ready to Run
Dear Ready to Run,
Yes, I think you should probably leave. It sounds like you've built up too much resentment to see things clearly anyway, and I doubt that you're likely to change.
Ideally, of course, in my universe, people do change; they endeavor to see the truth, full of nuance and paradox. But you're a real person out there somewhere, not just an abstraction on paper. And real people often do not change, however much we wish they would. My own mother, for instance, bless her 80-year-old heart, still passionately enumerates my dad's failures as if they happened yesterday, as if they caused every subsequent unhappiness that has visited the world. I can't change her. I can't change you. If you truly believe that your husband is just faking his new happiness because he can't bear the thought of losing you, and that his change is the same penny-ante dime-a-dozen miracle that anybody can turn on or off any old time he wants to, and he could have done this years earlier but didn't out of some fundamental contrariness, then you really should just leave.
In my ideal world, however, whether you leave him or not, you wouldn't presume to know your husband's motivations for his recent change, or for his years of failing to live up to your expectations. You'd recognize that your expectations of others don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. You wouldn't assume that your husband's decisions revolve around his regard for you. You wouldn't blame him for who he is. You'd view these years you spent raising your children with some compassion for yourself and some humility and some perspective.
You would throw away your judgments, your recriminations, your belief in your own rightness. You would take responsibility for your actions and move on without comment. If you have stayed with this guy this long for the sake of the children, you would be proud of the fact that you did it for the children, but you would recognize that it was a choice; it wasn't something he or the children forced you to do; you did it because it was the right thing to do and you did it willingly.
In my ideal world, you'd have reverence for the sanctity of your own decisions. You'd honor without question that promise you made to yourself long ago. You wouldn't make it conditional on your husband's current behavior; you wouldn't allow yourself to be manipulated whether he's doing it consciously or not. You'd just move out. You'd just tell him that you've got to go.
Finally, in my ideal world, you would have the courage to seek the truth. You would rather know some uncomfortable facts than hold grudges and cast judgments. And so you would entertain the possibility that there are other reasons for your husband's change. Perhaps, for instance, he's found another woman and that's why he's so chipper. Perhaps you weren't the only one feeling burdened and resentful and only sticking it out for the sake of the children; perhaps you weren't the only one with dreams you felt were being stifled; perhaps he was suffocating all that time, knowing you only viewed him as a necessity, a provider of money and a figurehead, an interchangeable accessory to a mother's life.
But that's in my ideal world. In this world, I think you should just move out. One request, on behalf of your children: To your dying day, whatever you may feel about your husband's failures and betrayals, always speak highly of him to your kids.
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