Dear Abigail,
Five years ago, my wife blindsided me with the news that she was no longer happy in our marriage and wanted to move toward divorce. We’d been together for 16 years, married for seven, and I had thought—everyone who knew us had thought!—that we had an idyllic relationship. We spoke kindly to each other and had no conflict. We were very much on the same page politically and ethically. We had two children together, who were then 5 and 2 years old.
I was in shock. We did some therapy but it was clear that her mind was made up, and we separated within a few months, finalizing our divorce agreement later that year. I went through all the emotions. Sadness, of course, for myself and for our kids. Guilt, that I’d not seen this coming or been a better partner that could have held her love. And then the rage.
I moved on quickly, seeking solace in meaningless sexual dalliances. Fortunately for me, one of those casual affairs turned out to be the love of my life, a man of integrity who is his authentic self and who loves my children as though they were his own. I have learned that one can and should argue with one’s partner about all manner of things. I have learned that I am lovable and resilient. In love, I am happy.
But the rage, Abigail. I can’t let go of it. I’m angry for myself and I’m angrier for my daughters. Because I share custody with my ex-wife, I must interact with her constantly. I used to think she hung the moon. Now I think she’s a weak, pathetic coward who has prioritized self-indulgent therapeutic bullshit over what’s best for the babies she chose to bring into the world. I disagree with her on so many issues now, and every parenting decision is like a committee meeting where I need to stay calm and neutral, but inside I seethe. I hate her.
How do I forgive a person who betrayed me and torpedoed our family? Why am I so furious over something that ended up leading me onto a path that has made me so fulfilled? How do I let go?
—Anna, 43
Anna,
Your ex-wife seems to think the two of you had a fender bender. Sure, there were children involved, but these things happen in life’s daily traffic. You exchange information and depart like adults.
From your perspective, you were the victim of a debilitating hit-and-run. Blindsided by the woman you married, who trampled your heart and broke up your family. You responded with hurt, dabbled in sexual adventurism, and found new love.
But there are other characters in this story whose perspective you nearly omit. What have your girls’ lives been like—as they went from ages 5 and 2 to 10 and 7? Formative years, while one foolish mother broke up their family for no real reason, and the other, still reeling, reenacted her college years with strangers. Even the love in which you find yourself now—exhilarating for you—requires them to absorb another adult, another reconfiguration of home, and another mother’s reinvention.
I don’t hear you worry over any of this. Instead you ask what to do with your rage, which is just your old obsession with your ex-wife in even less flattering clothes.
