and the truth of a marriage deceased
I do not always miss being married.
Or, I suppose, to put it more precisely, I do not miss being in my marriage.
When a person jokingly refers to a relationship as complicated, I get it. It’s not really a joke at all.
It’s complicated.
Naturally, so many words get left unsaid in a post like this, in a public declaration or a personal commentary. Of course this is all one-sided – my side. That’s precisely how this works.
But it was . . . complicated.
And while I was married, there were vast portions of the big picture and the whole person that I never saw and that I never knew.
In hindsight, I would change so much. But then again, I don’t know.
It’s complicated.
I can honestly say that I would rather be alone than be treated as disposable, without worth and less than.
Those are shackles I no longer care to ever be hostage to again.
And so when I say that I do not miss being married – that is what I mean.
In so many ways, I don’t know what a good marriage looks like.
Not from my own experience.
But – then again – in so many other ways, I do.
My parents.
My framily.
My friends.
It’s complicated.
I don’t believe in spreading gossip or rumors. I want to be brave enough to share my own story and to be kind enough to not share someone else’s.
But that’s so complicated too, isn’t it?
Because no one story can be plucked so tidily out of the tangles of the lives of all the other people influenced and affected by that same story.
We do not live isolated in our relationships.
Not really.
I read this article about gaslighting.
I saw much of my own marriage in that article.
And I don’t think it’s alright to be silent about wrong doing.
And yet, I don’t know what the best use of my voice is either.
Complicated.
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