A Shift

I am a huge proponent of therapy. I first went to therapy in college, as my academic counselor recommended it after I had a particularly difficult quarter. I fell in love with it. I love the process of learning about myself, getting objective input, and problem-solving challenging areas in my life. So throughout our marriage, my ex and I were in couples therapy. I had hoped that therapy would help us resolve our communication challenges. Since therapy requires consistent work from both parties, it worked only as much as he and I were willing to make it work. Anyway, a few days after my ex left, I begged him to attend a therapy session with me. I had hoped a session with our therapist would help him communicate to me what the problem was so that I could fix it. He was very hesitant at first. But after a few requests, he reluctantly agreed. 

On the day of our agreed-upon session, I pulled into the lot and saw his car was already parked. I raced up the stairs, nervously reminding myself to remain calm and open. I walked down the long hallway, into the suite, and opened the door. He was sitting on the couch facing our therapist. I sat next to him, a few spaces over. Our therapist greeted us, and we greeted her in return. She then asked, “So how can I help today?” I recall hesitating to answer, wanting to accurately but fairly describe what had just happened. But before I could respond, my ex answered “well, I left. And she’s hoping that talking with you will convince me to stay. But it won’t. I’m here to give her closure.” I. Was. Flabbergasted. While I was working hard to remain open and productive, he’d already come in closed off and resolved. 

I believe my therapist spoke some more, and so did he. But honestly, I didn’t hear a single thing after that. My mind was reeling from his absolution and coldness. I was trying to really hear it, understand it, and accept it. I think when I finally tuned in, my therapist was asking how I felt. I don’t recall responding with many words. I also don’t recall crying much at that time. There was no way I’d shed tears and show vulnerability in front of a man who was intentionally doing the exact opposite. So I stayed quiet. With all the strength I could muster, I managed to slide my wedding ring off of my ring finger and set it on the couch next to him. I told her that my father always told me “you don’t want a man that doesn’t want you”. 

My therapist then attempted to get us to have a productive conversation about how to co-parent our daughter. But I had an immediate and visceral reaction to that. I could feel it in my closing throat, my clenched stomach, my sweaty palms. I wasn’t nearly ready for that conversation yet. Thankfully, they both respected that. So my therapist asked my ex to leave so that she could help me process what just happened. 

I sat with her and just cried. Since she’d been with us for so long, I felt like she understood my tears. She knew I was crying for all that we had been through and all that we had dreamed of. She did not rush me, and she did not speak. She just let me cry. And I did just that until I was exhausted. 

When I was done, she expressed her sympathy for my sorrow. And then we both sort of sat in the understanding that this was it. He had never been that clear or absolute. Now, it was over. I was no longer begging or holding out hope. It was done. It was now time to grieve and heal. And suddenly and inexplicably, I was ready to do both. It was as if hearing that finality from him was all that I needed. 

This mental and emotional shift - of acceptance really - was a very somber, but very pivotal point. It’s sad because I realized I’ve lost something, something I worked really hard for and really wanted. But it’s empowering because now that I know I’ve lost it, I can go about adjusting and replacing it. If you’re experiencing a breakup, and are at this point, try to sit with this moment, and allow yourself to see the progress it will eventually bring.