Sometimes You Need a Powerful Question

Should I Divorce? Isn’t It

Powerful questions can bring insightful answers. Love me some powerful questions. It’s right up there with coaching’s other power tools: Deep listening, offering reflection and a dash of intuition.

I get to witness this every time I see a client’s face light up with an AHA moment. Clarity is a wonderful thing. Hot damn, it’s glorious.

As a professional life coach, ya’d think I could have fast tracked through the agony of trying to determine if I should sever the marital bond I honored for over 32 years.

Nooooooo. No free pass.

When things are too emotional, too close to your heart, it is hard to think straight, much less make such a big, life-changing decision.

Clarity was the very thing I lacked while I chased my tail, going round and round and repeating the Should I Divorce question. Each repeat of the question only jacked up the anxiety.

Besides being in individual therapy, my was-band (WB) and I were also in marriage therapy. (I will admit, I stifle a giggle when I type “marriage therapy” because there was nothing therapeutic about a session where he would sit with arms folded during much of the session. We spent more energy just trying to get him to engage. Total waste of time. Or maybe not depending on how one looks at it-this could have served as a wake-up call.)

We would analyze the question over and over. It was clear we were both unhappy. We were both concerned about the practical fallout from a divorce. The pain inflicted upon our adult children. We discussed future grandkids and the pain of having future holidays with new family configurations. We grieved over bringing divorce into our story.

I will admit my pride was also hurt. We were still married when so many of our friends were divorced. Yay, us. Look at us after over three decades! I felt shame and failure.

I read books and wrung my hands over the statistics. Divorce is devastating on so many levels. And divorcing in our late fifties only amplifies some of the tough realities. I was concerned about how our kids would be affected. Some studies have shown divorce, even with adult kids, increases their later chance of divorce.

The economic realities, for me in particular, were especially sobering. Women from long-term marriages where she was the homemaker more often than not end up in poverty.

I considered all the years together. We joked about how long it would take to train a new spouse. The growing old together.

This is the stuff I thought we would work on. We would find a new path to happiness. Together! Hope springs eternal, right?

Then a day that will live in infamy for me: December 7.

We were in therapy and he confessed to his infidelity. Well, that explains the stonewalling. He finally spilled the beans.

I was gob smacked. I ran from the office and headed for some hiking trails, wishing to God I didn’t encounter anyone while I cried and sobbed. Ran and screamed.

How the fuck was I so ignorant? Such a chump? Why didn’t I see the signs?

I wanted to die.

But, uh, yeah, as I’ve said before, memes and roles in life die hard.

Still wanting to be a “good Christian wife,” I still hung there. And I went back to asking the same worn-out questions.

Only now I had fresh material out on the table for my consideration.

Infidelity.

Many couples choose to stick it out. I learned this through an infidelity community I joined. The task of healing such a betrayal would be Sisyphean. I could feel my knees weaken at the amount of work and healing I knew this would require.

YEARS of work. And I was no spring chicken.

The other broken record questions continued.

Should I divorce? How will I support myself? What if I get sick? How will our kids fare?

Round and round the question went. The answers were always variations on the same theme.

I feel anger still as I look at the mental gyrations I went through. And the conversations I took part in when I really should have just packed my things and left.

WB would tell me he was confused-should he pick me… or her?

“Somedays, I want to be married to you. Other days, no,” he would muse out loud.

I listened, nodding my head. Poor guy needs some space, I would think.

Stop right there.

Can you see how fucked up my thinking was? What the hell happened to me that I am tolerating not only the betrayals but now justifying him, treating me with an indifference better used for deciding on pancakes versus waffles.

Oh wait. That would be me.

Then there is one of my favorites he would say, “I don’t know if I believe in marriage anymore.”

Gee, sure wish you would have let me in on that 33 years earlier!

The questions. The surreal conversations. In my wildest dreams, I never ever thought we would be discussing some of the shit we were discussing. It was a fucking waking nightmare.

Round and round they went.

Until I found the question that brought clarity to me was this:

Can I fulfill my life’s mission from this point forward, staying in this marriage?

I didn’t even have to think about an answer. It rose up from deep within:

HELL NO.

While WB seemed to speak the same language as me, it was clear we were on two different paths.

My physical health cycled through symptoms (chronic pain and IBS the biggies) and was screaming for relief from the stress. (Little did I know there were tumors growing in both breasts.)

It was a mixture of profound relief and clarity. It also was the most excruciating grief I have ever experienced.

It was a leg sweep to some of my foundational beliefs.

It was like listening to the refrain on a pop song that is repeated over at the end of the song while fading out.

Til death do us part. Til death do us part. Til death do us…

Game over. Roll credits.

The marriage died. Dead, Jim. And if I did not honor my own life and leave, it would destroy me-literally.

I was trying to hang on to a gangrenous limb, deceiving myself that it just needs another round of antibiotics. Maybe some oxygen chamber therapy would work.

Nope. I needed to let go. Fire up the bone saw. Call the mediator. Start filling out the paperwork.

That question and the subsequent response from my soul sparked new energy.

This was a death.

And to save my life, I must embrace it.

How about you? Did you have trouble pulling the trigger on your marriage? What ultimately made you decide to move forward with it?

I would love to hear your experience. Drop me a comment! And be sure to clap (you may do so up to 50 times!) if you got something out of this.

Thanks so much for reading. You can find me around the internet at www.theresawinn.com, on Facebook, LinkedIn and Instagram. If you’d like to support my writing in a small way, feel free to buy me a coffee .