Hello, Carolyn: I’ve been married to my partner for over 20 years. We have tween and teenage kids.
I feel unhappy a good bit of the time. I feel like I don’t want to be married and I don’t feel in love. I don’t want to leave either. I am not dreaming of someone else or dating. The idea of living alone can seem somewhat appealing at times but not entirely.
I mostly just feel unfulfilled and sad. I still want to be a family, happy and with everyone thriving as best as possible, and do the right thing by everyone. But I am doubting my marriage.
My partner is a wonderful person. Like everyone, we each have awesome things about us and also flaws. To be fair to myself, there is a lot I put up with — I do a lot, carry a lot of the labor on my shoulders, have put myself last for a long time — but for the past few years I have been trying to take better care of myself and 100 percent have their support. They are trying to give me what I need.
My sex life with my partner is still decent and we still have meaningful and honest discussions, although some things I keep to myself.
We are in individual and couples’ therapy. It helps; at least there I can broach the idea that marriage is hard. My partner is aware of a lot of this (but not all of it) and their insecurity (combined with their own issues) can make things worse.
I am praying this is just some awful phase. Can you tell me — based on years of listening to people stress about their marriages — this will pass and one day I will be grateful I stuck with it?
— Anonymous
Anonymous: I can tell you that marriages have clear phases, yes.
I can tell you that I hear from long-married people who are grateful they stayed married through even some horrible phases because they are, stably, in much better ones now. Often because of what their misery taught them but sometimes just because.
I can tell you that teens can launch some of the hardest phases in their parents’ marriages.
I can’t tell you whether any of this applies to you.
But if you’re looking for reasons to stay, then you have them — and not just from the pool of collective wisdom. Top of the list: You don’t want to leave, so it would be madness to push yourself off the fence on the “leave” side.
Also, your partner is “a wonderful person.” That may not feel like enough now — or ever — but it’s necessary to any non-transactional justification for staying.
And your family is rallying for you, now that you’ve started to articulate what you need. That’s kind of beautiful. I’m guessing it’s also good for your kids (immediately) and your marriage (in time).
You can add to these reasons by harnessing the power of your mind. Right now you’re “praying this is just some awful phase,” which positions you to wait expectantly. You can upgrade praying to choosing. Your fundamentals are healthy, so you can decide this is a phase that will eventually pass, then mentally close the question.
Your kids won’t stay the ages they are and your household will change with them.
Maybe such transitions won’t improve your marriage, but they will change it. Therefore, it is a viable option to trust (the inevitability of) change and hand your possibly-temporary discontent over to it: “Okay, I’m married well past the thrill stage, childrearing-tired, mildly to severely erased by my own parenting style, and facing even harder things before they start to get easier. From that angle, not feeling good looks normal, situational and therefore likely to resolve on its own.”
Keep up the effort to take better care of yourself, of course — obligatory oxygen-mask analogy here — and stay in therapy if it helps and especially to explore the possibility of depression. Otherwise, though, try just not fighting the rut so hard.
If you feel some relief at that idea, at that decision, then don’t be afraid to go all in: “This sucks but I’m waiting it out.”
Waiting it out and loving every good family moment that serendipity hands you, I should say. A generalized surrender, counterintuitively, can make room for enjoying the moment.
This may settle your spouse’s nerves and insecurities, too, though that’s a bonus; they’re not yours to manage.
Trusting change is not magic and many tomorrows may still suck. But it can keep the most disorienting feelings contained — that somehow the calls you made are all wrong. Plus it’s way easier to reverse than leaving.
For what it’s worth, the decisions that got you here seem as good as any. You’ve built a caring environment, which is now supporting you through what is a difficult stretch for anyone — any life partner, parent, person at midlife.
If a different path would be better, then it’ll take shape in your less conflicted mind, when you’re ready. It’s okay to trust that, too.
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