I was raised believing in many myths; of course I wasn't told they were myths. A good education will pay off and hard work gets rewarded were two of them. Then there were all those myths about relationships. Marriage is forever and solves all those ugly problems you had when you were single including access to sex. Your spouse is your best friend. Happy couples don't argue. I shouldn't have to work at a good relationship. Marriage roles are static and unchanging. Oh, and a big one, we can always repair a broken relationship.
Well, I had a graduate degree in engineering that I wasn't using yet I was getting well paid for what I did, and what I did came easily to me, so easily that I often wondered why I'd spent so much time in university. Sometimes I thought the world would see through my guise and discover I was doing all this stuff, getting paid thousands a month to do it, and realize they could get it done for minimum wage.
The other myth that proved wrong involved my marriage. I finally had to own up to the fact that my marriage sucked. There's a story about boiling frogs. Supposedly if you put a frog in boiling water, it'll jump out; but if you put the frog in cool water and turn up the heat you'll eventually end up with a boiled frog. The analogy fit my marriage. I'd started in cool and loving waters and the heat got turned up slowly and I was cooked.
I felt the emotional warmth leave my marriage as the years passed. It worried me and I have to admit I did little to rescue the situation, always figuring that tomorrow things would turn around. They didn't. We both took up different interests and then different friends and then we stopped talking about either with each other. We even stopped eating together except for a rare dinner out. I took refuge in business travel; Melissa in her work and our children.
I evaluated one day and realized that what we had now was a big zero. Nil. Nada. Nothing. Whatever we had, once upon a time, was gone. I didn't like that conclusion so I planted myself in the 'denial' stage of where our relationship was. I did it so well I was able to hide from the facts and emotions for another five years.
My catharsis came on a weekend in California. We were living outside of Boston but I had to stay over a weekend to accommodate late Friday and early Monday morning meetings at the company of one of my key client's. Len Woodruff, the top exec at my client, talked me into joining him and his wife at a personal assessment seminar and workshop over the weekend -- Saturday and half of Sunday. I had nothing else to do so I agreed.
By Sunday evening my life was transformed forever. The workshop had me churn through my brain over and over again, eventually taking ownership for the terrible state of my marriage and for not doing much to fix it. I wanted to love someone and share my life with someone dear, yet it wasn't going to happen in my marriage. I accepted my role in things and, for the first time, seemed to see clearly that the best thing for Melissa and me was to end the marriage.
Of course, I reached a number of other conclusions about my life. I was fifty pounds overweight and couldn't hide from that either. I drank too much. I smoked. I was addicted to several prescription drugs that seemed to help me sleep, particularly on red-eyes. I didn't have much in the way of relationships with my two kids -- now in their early-twenties. I was a workaholic and addicted to the 'kicks' from closing deals and making big things happen in the business world yet I really didn't like the company I worked for and how they treated people -- staff and clients.
I sat with Len and his wife Dot that Sunday night at their home in Malibu. They'd each had some realizations about their lives and were going to work on setting things straight for themselves.
Their list of "ah-ha's" however paled compared to mine. They were intimidated by my list and the profound implications it had for changing one person's life -- me. We talked a long time about how my marriage, job, work habits, and health were boiling frogs. I resolved to start to turn things around. Len made me promise to show-up the next morning and finish his strategy project. I did.
I flew back to Boston on Wednesday. The six or so hours on the transcontinental flight gave me time to do some more assessments and create some plans for my 'new' life.
I passed up the free cocktails on the flight honoring my pledge from Sunday to rid my dependence on alcohol and also lose some of the weight that it contributed to. I tossed my last cigarettes away at Len's house and had gone cold turkey. On the flight I could taste the nicotine but closed my eyes and told myself that a smoker was not the person I really wanted to be.
I'd also tossed the last of my drugs down the hotel toilet. I'd started on the drugs to help me deal with jet lag; I resolved that another way to do that was not to encounter jet lag. Stick to your time zone, fella!
I added up my net worth and was pleased it had some significance to it. A divorce would pare it down in a major way, but I could still survive on a lot less in the workplace. I didn't know what I'd do about my high stress job, the pressure chamber of a company I worked for and clash of values I was feeling, but I knew over the next months I'd explore other options.
I called each of my kids from the plane 'just to say, hello.' Both were pleasantly surprised and were able to talk. I thought that at least those relationships might not be totally trashed by my errant behaviors. Julie worked in New York and Christy in Philadelphia.
When I landed in Boston I went home instead of putting in two or three hours at the office. The house was empty. I poured myself a large Diet Coke and sat on the back patio and thought about how to open the discussion with Melissa. Eventually, I fixed myself some dinner.
Melissa came home about eight o'clock. I was reading at the kitchen counter. We did our 'how was your day' and 'how was your flight' dance. In the awkward silence that followed I studied the woman that I used to love. I wondered where the love had gone.
"Melissa," I asked slowly -- my voice cutting through the silence between us, "do you love me?" We'd stopped saying those words to each other years earlier.
She looked at me with a thousand questions on her brow. She slowly responded. "Is it time?"
"Time?" I asked.
"Time to end it -- to end the marriage," she said.
"Yes, I think it is. I've had a good chance to think about it while I was away. I don't think we can save it. It died a long time ago really."
"We'll need lawyers and all that I suppose," she said resigned to our mutual conclusion. She poured herself a glass of red wine as she spoke and then drank it down in one long gulp.
I said, "I can use the same firm we use at work. Part of their business handles divorces. I assume you'll use Bud Cole down the street?"
"Yes, probably. I'll talk to him. How will the rest of this play out?"
I thought for a moment, "I'd like to stay here tonight. I'll use the guest room and bath. I'll find a place over the weekend."
"We should tell the kids," Melissa commented as though we might call to inform them that we had a good rainstorm at the house.
