What's It All For?

What’s It All For

The phrase ‘the forest for the trees’ is used repeatedly, leading me to overlook how personal struggles blocked my broader perspective. By late 1998, during my failing six-year marriage, I was overwhelmed by panic, which had become my norm. My marriage to Spence was never ideal; escaping a cruel family, I clung to him as my only source of validation. That was a mistake. After six years of ostracism for marrying him, I was trying to hold on for reasons I couldn't explain.

This man was mostly ignorant and careless. Lazy to a fault. He stopped working once he moved in with me and married me. My family was completely against him and believed he had ruined my promising future. I wanted to become a surgeon.

Since I was six, that had been my dream, and I was confident I could achieve it. I came home from college for the summer, knowing my family wouldn’t be kind. Their narcissism was legendary. I was an afterthought, controlled and beaten down. But I did it anyway. Coming home on break, I met Spence during a tough night with my parents.

We drank, talked, and I went home with him to escape the torment. Over the weeks, I saw him on and off. He was charming and made me feel wanted, which I needed, having grown up neglected and hostile. Spence was attentive, thoughtful, and good in bed.

But a few months into our marriage, I noticed differences I previously ignored, like my tendency to dumb myself down to engage with him and his friends, who mostly just drank and smoked. That’s not my style. I consider myself more intellectual, and their trivial conversations began to bore me and make me feel detached.

I wish that was all that was left of me, with little interest in the man I had decided to hitch my wagon to. It was most certainly not. Not six months in, and the person I chose to be with stopped working—just stopped, with excuse after excuse about why he had stopped and why he couldn't go back to work. I should have left—no, not just left, but run. I didn’t. I convinced myself I was in a commitment I would honor, no matter what. And I stuck it out for five more years. Today, I can’t even understand how or why I did it.

I was raised with faith-based values. Although my parents pretended to be models of propriety before parishioners, their true actions were cruel, restrictive, and abusive. To escape their control, I married.

Here I was, day after day, working my tail off to support both of us and barely making ends meet, but I was no quitter. I stuck with it. Even when I was mentally exhausted from this parasitic relationship, I kept going.

As my frustration with the people and circumstances I had connected to grew, my expressions and reactions started to change. I became broody, uninterested, and lost the cheerful way I usually treated everyone. I didn’t like who I was anymore or who I was with, and although those reasons weren’t insignificant, they made everything seem even less appealing. I withdrew into my mind and lost the love I once had for the things I enjoyed. I stopped drawing and painting. I stopped being creative altogether, and that was such a big part of who I had been.

I lost friends who stopped hanging out because they disliked Spence. Everyone in my family pulled away from me. The only interactions I had were with the group of men who would get drunk with my husband — a true band of brothers indeed.

These issues weren’t the only ones, unfortunately. Spence had an insatiable desire for pornography, which wasn’t my idea of a good time. I was forced to act out what he believed was his right from his wife, and that, more than anything, made me feel dirty and used up. It directly affected my emotional and mental well-being, and at some point, I shut down physically and emotionally during sex. I would just lie there and endure it, like the bad medicine you have to take as a child.

If Spence noticed it, he never let on. He took what he wanted and expected to be supplied with his degenerate desires and his choice of intoxicants to boot.

I often read about women in similar relationships but didn’t see myself in their stories—until I was them. No one understands why women stay, but once you experience it, you begin to understand. I stayed because I had nowhere else that wouldn't be worse, because it was familiar and not filled with insecurity, because I was ashamed to show my foolish choices, and because of my faith, beliefs, and pride. I didn’t want my family and friends to see the disaster this relationship became, and it did.

Here I was, in the middle of my important life choices. As I started pulling away from engaging with Spence on all levels, he changed too. He would spend long hours online, doing God knows what, and he would become more aggressive when his needs weren't being met. I just accepted it all. I would lie there like a shell, sit there like a shell when I was around him and his friends. I was no longer myself.

I started noticing he was going out more and spending more time on the computer. I was too naive to understand what that meant. I actually thought it was a blessing because it meant I would be left alone in my little world, without having to deal much with the circumstances I had now accepted as the new normal.

Don’t misunderstand me; he did as he pleased, when he pleased. And I remained compliant for years. I immersed myself in my faith, trying to be a better wife, a better person—hoping I could somehow rekindle love for this man, if there ever was love to begin with. But, as is so often the case, that never works in the long run.

He started running around on me. He must have been doing that for quite some time before I finally found out. Maybe I didn’t care. Maybe I didn’t want to see it. When I finally realized it, it hit me hard. Here I was trying to be or become a better person, to maybe salvage something, and he was getting his rocks off wherever he wanted. He was definitely careful about it, because it took me a while to figure it out.

I drove myself crazy trying to find ways to catch him or get him to admit it. He never flinched. If anything, things became more volatile as he suspected I was trying to figure it out. We started fighting more often. He was more forceful, as if trying to prove a point. What point, I don’t know. Maybe he wanted to prove to me he wasn’t cheating, or maybe he was just another cruel person in my life.

Everything reached a breaking point one day when I saw a text on his phone. I had him. His sidepiece had messaged him more than once, and I saw the texts. While not explicitly sexual, I instinctively knew it was serious, and I confronted him. That probably wasn’t a wise decision. We argued intensely, and at one point, he raised his hand as if to hit me. I wasn’t going to let that happen. I drew the line late in the game, but I made it clear. I looked at him and told him that if he hit me, he better make sure he knocked me out completely. For good measure, I told him that afterward, he should never close his eyes in my presence. While that stopped his attempt to hit me, it didn’t change anything else.

I didn’t wait long before asking a friend if I could stay with her for a while. She was so kind and offered me her spare room for as long as I needed. I was very grateful.

All trees blocked my view of the forest, and I felt guilty about leaving my marriage. I believed I lacked grounds for divorce and evidence of his infidelity. My faith leaders urged reconciliation, so I returned to my marriage.

Almost as soon as I entered the door, once I went back, Spence disappeared. Here one day and gone the next, but not before he got what he needed. I began frantically calling his line to no avail. I looked all over, and again nothing. I spoke to my religious mentors and was told I needed to be still and wait. I did as I was asked.

I refused to give up. I had returned to reconcile our relationship and to be a good wife, honoring my commitment.

Weeks dragged on, and I was so confused. I didn’t understand why, if I was honoring this marriage, he would not want that. My friends and family did not understand my decision to maintain this sham of a marriage. I needed to do what was right. I felt this was right.

Spence had fled to another state with a woman. I couldn’t prove it; I had no pictures or names. Every day, I would call him, or he would call me, and we would fight about him coming back so we could work on fixing things between us. I’m a glutton for punishment, I guess.

The funny thing is, his family embraced me. They cared for me and made sure I wasn’t alone or missing anything. They didn’t believe he was doing the right thing. Spence’s family was faithful as well and worshipped where I did. So they fulfilled their duty to me as part of their family, much to my husband's chagrin.

My health showed signs of fatigue and anxiety from this ordeal. I was trembling constantly. I didn’t understand why all this was happening when I was doing the right thing, despite what he was doing. Yes, he had free will, but the universe was enabling him and making me wait to see what would happen.

I was in complete denial that I would have to give up my commitment to reconcile, denial that I no longer loved this man, or perhaps never truly had. I saw no benefit in breaking the covenant I had taken so seriously. And I did take it seriously—so much so that I fought aggressively to preserve it. I didn’t want to accept failure or to give in to him anymore. I wanted it fixed and believed that nothing outside of the marriage should be able to tear us apart.

Oh, the foreshadowing of the marriage’s demise was all there, but I refused to see it. In my mind, there was no way that a marriage could ever be meant to fail, and I was determined to keep mine intact. All I saw was the image of a perfect union and the responsibility I had to uphold my vows. Everyone kept saying that it was all for the best, and I argued that it couldn’t possibly lead to divorce.

I had genuine fears. Fear of the unknown. Fear of being alone. Fear of having to take a step back in life. Fear of having to go back to my parents' house. It was all there, feeding my insecurities and denial. I couldn’t see beyond it at all. What would happen? How could I continue without my husband? And I refused to give in to his now frequent requests to file for divorce. I would not do it.

As luck would have it, that wasn’t my decision to make. One day, I got a call to attend my faith’s conference at its offices. I thought maybe we’d hear some good news or discuss strategies to turn this disaster around, so I went right away. When I entered the office, I immediately saw that Spence’s dad was in the meeting. That wasn’t good news. I felt it instantly.

I was asked to sit, and I did so. Then the reason for their asking me to come burst out of their mouths. Apparently, not only had Spence abandoned the marriage, but now there was a child to think about. The woman he had run off with was now pregnant. What a turn of events.

I think my mouth dropped open. That was when I found out I now had grounds for legal separation and divorce from my spouse.

I was numb. I sat there and thought about it for a while. Then I responded and told them that I would give up trying to fix our marriage and would let the divorce go through, but I wouldn’t be the one paying for it. I would release him for the sake of the baby.

I was feeling down for a while because, honestly, I didn’t see why this was a better choice or solution. Marriages are supposed to last forever, after all. Even a bad marriage was something to hold onto just to fulfill that requirement. Of course, none of this was true. A bad marriage rarely turns good, and a good marriage is less likely to end under these circumstances.

Either way, I could not see a positive resolution in the scenario.

I went home. The wait and countdown had begun. How long before I’d have to find out what my new life would look like? What purpose did this entire experience have in the grand scheme of things in my life? I still could not see the reason why any of this had happened. I waited some more.

A few weeks later, I received my divorce papers in the mail. Spence had already paid for the divorce, and I was spared the legal battle because he filed uncontested paperwork. I was officially single again. It didn’t feel as freeing as I expected. I felt drained and sad, almost like grieving a friend, and scared of the future and all the ‘now what’s’ that were coming.

I faced some tough choices, and that day I made my first one. I had spoken with a close friend in Colorado, who begged me to pack up and move there, and I agreed.

In the meantime, I had to organize my affairs for such a big move. I talked with her every day, and then moving day came.

The drive lasted two days with an overnight stop to rest. I had plenty of time to process and adjust to a new beginning. I needed it.

I arrived at my destination, having never seen the state before, and was amazed by its beauty. The mountains were breathtaking, and the city was lively. I felt so happy when I reached my friend’s house. She was kind and welcoming to me. She took me out and introduced me to her friends, and they were all so interesting and intelligent. The conversations were engaging, and I now felt excited about a new beginning.

My past was now truly behind me.

One night, when we went to dinner, my girlfriend introduced me to Daniel. He was a very quiet and calming presence, and I enjoyed talking to him. He was intelligent and very sweet, so much so that I agreed to have lunch with him at his favorite Mexican restaurant.

The meal was excellent, the conversation lively, and I thoroughly enjoyed the time. From that moment on, he became a regular part of my week. I genuinely valued his company.

I was able to settle in quickly with a great job and get familiar with my surroundings. The day finally arrived when I found my own place to live. Once again, I packed my life into my car and moved. Daniel helped me with my move, and from that point on, he was with me whenever we weren’t at work. We got to know each other well and discovered we shared similar, if not the same, interests.

Every day turned into every night, and one day he came over and never left. The following days became a beautiful adventure with him. We shared similar backgrounds and stories, and it felt like we were made for each other or destined to be together. We got married fifteen months later.

Now, twenty-four years later and after having one child, I sometimes wonder why I fought so hard for my divorce from Spence. What was I thinking? Why did I want to hold onto that toxicity? I can’t wrap my head around it. I did realize something, though. I wasn’t seeing the big picture back then. I was being set free to find love, to find a partner who would be my equal and share similar interests and intellectual pursuits.

I couldn’t see at the time how the huge mess I was living through would benefit me or lead to a happy future. If I had fought harder, or heaven forbid, if I had salvaged it or even had children with Spence, it would have been a lasting disaster for me.

He ended up fathering several children with different women he didn't support, and I found the man of my dreams. I got a second chance at true happiness. My experiences and pain made me a better mother and wife. I was careful not to repeat my parents’ mistakes and my failures in my first marriage. It’s night and day.

Looking back, I have no regrets about experiencing it all. It has made me value what I have even more. I am content, happy, loved, and cherished, and I have reclaimed my sense of self. I rediscovered my artistic talent and am now even a published writer. Fulfillment is a wonderful feeling.

I have forgiven the people in my life who hurt or were cruel to me. I don’t want to carry bitterness. If I hadn’t forgiven and released it, anger and resentment would have festered, turning me into an embittered woman. I am much happier for having forgiven and let go of the negativity.

Would I do it differently if I had a choice? I don’t think so. It might have made me a different person with different outcomes, and I’m glad to be right where I am. I have peace with my past and hope for my future. The trees make the forest. Bad trees, good trees, big ones, and small—all come together to create a beautiful forest to be savored and enjoyed.