I’ll share the story of my divorce. I married young, at 21, to a lovely girl. However, living together became, to put it mildly, not very pleasant over time. Then our son was born, and living with her became even worse.
She constantly grumbled about various things, often without any reason: she didn’t like that we rarely traveled, and then she complained that the neighbor had given his wife a cool and expensive jeep, while she, you see, drove an old Ford. Why are you always working, you barely spend time at home, you should spend more time with me.
I thought about divorce somewhat distantly. It would be good, of course, but it just never seemed to happen. What would people think? And our son is still young. How could I leave everything behind? We have this apartment and other property already acquired.
Then my blood pressure started acting up. Specifically acting up. And six years ago, I went to the hospital, and they put this device on me to measure my pulse, blood pressure, and all that for 24 hours. And when I returned the device, the next day the doctor invited me for a chat:
Meet our psychologist.
But I don’t think I’m crazy — I smiled.
We’re all crazy — said the psychologist.
Tell me, was there a fight at home yesterday?
No, everything seemed fine, why do you ask?
Alright, look, in the morning you went to work, your blood pressure and pulse were normal, and at 6 p.m. you headed home?
Yes.
And I started. Look at the chart. Pulse skyrocketing, tachycardia, blood pressure 180/120, and so on until night.
So I told him everything. I didn’t want to go home because there was a suffocating atmosphere there, I’m always the first volunteer for long business trips, and I prefer going to the production site with an overnight stay to monitor the production process, even if not my turn. Because I feel good there, but at home it’s bad.
He listened to me, nodded, and said:
I’ll be brief. If you want to live, you need to decide something for yourself. Either you get divorced or you die. I’m not joking. I won’t advise you to go to a family psychologist and all that. Too many years in marriage, 14 years is no joke. My advice to you, as a man to a man, and as a doctor to a patient. Get divorced.
It hit me hard. I walked to the car like a lost soul. I had no courage to get divorced. Likewise, I thought and thought, couldn’t come up with anything, because I’m not brave in that regard.
Not only that, but I even had thoughts that it would be great if she cheated on me, and then I would catch her and divorce her rightfully. Such nonsense. But I couldn’t muster the courage to come and say it.
And I thought, well, that’s my karma, and I’ll just keep living like this, and the doctor might be wrong, and maybe I’ll get used to it, get used to it and all that. And it went on like this until one moment.
We bought new furniture for the apartment. And there was a lot of cardboard left, which we put in the corridor. I wanted to throw it away, but my wife said that her brother would come and take it, saying he needed it for something. So, the cardboard lay there for a week. On Monday, I had important negotiations at work. My wife called.
I replied to her that I was very busy and would call her back after the negotiations were over.
What negotiations!!! When will you finally remove your cardboard?! I’ve told you twenty times already, I just fell on it, and broke a nail, are you even a man, how much longer do I have to endure this?
I turned off the phone, and something inside me broke.
Interrupting the negotiations, I apologized and said that I urgently needed to leave. He got into the car, drove home, went into the bedroom without saying a word to his wife, folded his underwear and socks into a gym bag, grabbed a jacket and a few other things, and took them to the car.
Came back and said that I was not going to live with her anymore and that I was getting divorced. I left and never came back.
That night I stayed at the office on the office couch. Then I rented an apartment, had a week of depression, got fired from work, no one bothered me. Then slowly started living. And after some time, I realized that I was living! Damn it, I’m not just existing, I’m living a full life! I’ve found a great job with promising prospects, I’m still young, I’m strong and healthy, and my head doesn’t hurt anymore! Damn! I’m living!
Then I started living with a nice girl and bought a house. We started living in the new house. And you know what’s interesting: I no longer like business trips, I don’t want to stay after work to work more, I want to go home!
Home is the place where I feel good, calm, and cozy. Where a good person lives, whom I want to return to as soon as possible. I’ve stopped being afraid of my home; living there has become interesting to me.
And once my grown-up son told me in secret:
Dad, listen. I don’t know how to say this to you, but I have to. It’s probably not right, but I respect your wife more than mom.
I was shocked. And I asked him:
Why is that, son?
I don’t know. I think she loves me. And you. Because she never yells at us, does she?
Right, son.
Don’t be afraid to radically change your life. You only have one. If you don’t want to spend your whole life with someone who’s “killing” you, get divorced.