I had a revelation this morning. I was sitting at the kitchen table, encouraging a friend to go on a trip she had been planning for weeks, despite her husband now saying he does not want to visit her family. I reminded her to feel empowered because she had made these plans. I mentioned that it’s the things we don’t do that we regret, rarely we regret the things we do.
I don’t regret getting married.
It was about midnight last night and I was lying there awake, eyes closed, trying to pinpoint exactly where things went wrong. I would get in over my head with wondering and force myself to open my eyes and look at the light from the smoke detector, or the light from the moon peeking through the curtains…anything to erase the questions. Where exactly did things go wrong? Would early counseling have helped? Was that why he was so stiff and uncomfortable acting at our wedding? Why did I go through with it? Why didn’t I see all the signs I see now, pointing to our relationship failing?
Don’t get me wrong, my life would have been easier had I never married him. I’m sure I would have found a job, an apartment, graduated college just the same.. But I can’t say my life would have been better. If I had never married him, I wouldn’t have met my friends in South Carolina, wouldn’t have the experience of driving across the country, of establishing a household. Most important of all, I wouldn’t have my son. All the memories that I made, for myself; all of those things I did that I don’t regret, were made possible by marrying him. And now, everything in my future, the single-divorced-working-dating-mom thing…
I don’t regret the marriage. I don’t regret the beautiful, incredible child we made, and I don’t regret knowing and acting on the fact that I deserve better. I deserve great love, not a game of house.