After my 60-year-old husband walked out to make babies, I announced to my best friend that I was writing a memoir.
“For revenge?” she asked.
“NO!” I paused. “Well, maybe a little,” I admitted, though I knew revenge was not what I needed. After all, I’m a therapist, and choosing revenge is not a wise coping mechanism.
What Revenge Does
Revenge would keep me engaged, but not in a good way. Trying to find ways to get back at my ex might be easier than feeling the hurt, but it meant I focused on him rather than my healing.
When my husband left, I felt blindsided. I had fully believed we were happy in love. Until he left.
I wept for his loss, scrolling through years of suspect memories. What did I miss? What if none of my memories are true? Therapists are not immune to missing the obvious.
I grieved our future, too. I had fantasized about our adventures together; I’d imagined us till the end, laughing and commiserating as we handled the shifts and tweaks aging requires.
I fantasized about revenge. I’d send him subscriptions to Healthy Aging and AARP. I’d include a package of Depends.
But revenge fantasies have a short shelf life.
It Was Not About Him – It Was About Me
I had no idea how to handle what came after, so I turned inward, hunting for the truth of our story. What did I miss? I am a therapist; for God’s sake, I’m supposed to understand people.
I wanted to know if my version was anything like his version. Twelve years later, when I finished the memoir, I discovered I had to tolerate and embrace not knowing.
At the time, my husband felt like a betrayal of the relationship I thought we’d had. I was indignant. I thought you were this kind of person, and you turned out to be that kind of person.
But maybe the people I love are not responsible for the fact that I thought they were one way and later found out they were another way.
Love Is a Risky Business
Each person you love takes a piece of you, and then they are careless, forget to look both ways, drink too much, climb mountain cliffs, or are otherwise negligent. People die. They fall out of love. They leave. Loss is a constant and yet such a huge fear. We protect against it. We install smoke detectors and immunize our children. So, when loss comes anyway, we blame.
But the only way to avoid this heart pain is to avoid love. And that is too hard a way to live.
My youngest son asked before his wedding, “So, Mom, do you still believe in love and marriage?”
I wanted to take my time here. My son had witnessed me go through two divorces.
“I do. It didn’t work out for me, but I still think exploring and getting to know someone until the end of days is a superb and worthwhile endeavor.” I paused and said, “Love alone is not enough. You need to be fearless.”
Let’s Have a Conversation:
Have you been burned by love and loss? Do you still believe in love? What about love until the end of days?
