I’m close to losing my marriage.
And I think it is finally registering now.
No, this isn’t an “I made a mistake and my wife can’t handle it” type of thing. I have repeatedly shown patterns of disrespect over the last four or five years. At first, I may not have even been aware of my patterns. But this last time, I was aware of what was happening in my brain, and I still chose the comfort of that pattern.
I am close to losing my marriage, but I lost myself a LONG time ago.
My wife has told me for the longest:
“I love you soo much. There is nothing you can tell me that would scare me away. I am your rib. I am here for you. I just will not allow disrespect.”
I knew what it was. I always have.
That boundary has been made clear from the jump for the last seven years or so.
Now, just reading that alone, I know someone is probably thinking, She made it clear for the last seven years what she wouldn’t allow, yet you’ve shown repeated patterns of disrespect for the last four or five? You don’t love that girl, and she’s stupid for choosing you.
And she may be crazy for choosing me through all of this, but it was not blindly.
I gave her my word that I would be the man she needs. I told her she is the only woman for me. I told her I was working toward a shared life with us.
And she believed everything I said.
Not because she is naive, but because I believed everything I was saying too.
Or at least I deeply wanted to.
You see, I have always portrayed an image of the type of man that I am.
I am brave. Strong. Diligent. A go-getter.
These are all traits that I wanted people to see.
But they aren’t what I always felt.
And when those feelings didn’t align with the vision I had for myself, I didn’t know what to do with them.
So I didn’t deal with them.
Before I go any further, this explanation of the man I have been up to now is not an excuse for the things I have done.
Regardless of how or why I developed patterns that were destructive to my relationship, it is on me to work through them and do better.
I think that is the difference between all the other times I was caught in this pattern and now.
I always had an explanation, and I thought I was taking accountability by admitting what I did.
But admission is not accountability.
I admitted what I did, and I would start doing the work, but I was able to dissociate the person who caused the pain from the person I wanted to be.
It was like I was two separate people in my head.
So when my wife was going through pain and I was currently the person trying to heal, I would hear her but not really understand what she was going through.
And when I was the person who caused the pain, all I could feel was shame.
That made it about me.
And that still didn’t allow me to fully understand the damage I caused to my relationship or the damage I caused to my wife—the best part of me.
It’s funny how life works.
When faced with genuinely losing something, you begin to appreciate it for what it was.
For me, I don’t think it was a lack of appreciation.
I think it was a lack of courage to make the changes necessary to become a man who no longer has these self-destructive patterns.
So, how did I disrespect my relationship?
My behavioral pattern looked something like this:
Feel stress or discomfort.
Ignore my feelings and push them aside so I can continue with whatever tasks I need to get done.
The suppressed emotions surface later in ways I don’t know how to handle. I start feeling unconfident, unsure of myself—very much the opposite of the identity I am trying to create.
I seek validation and attention from other women. Nothing physical is even necessary. Just the thought that they would be willing is enough to satisfy my ego and pride.
I was a man controlled by lust because I didn’t want to confront my emotions.
The hardest thoughts I have ever had to deal with are the ones about my identity.
Who am I?
Who do I want to be?
Why are my actions not aligning with that image?
Are you even capable of being that man?
Alone, these questions are not that bad—at least now that I am becoming more cognizant of how I am feeling.
But then those thoughts get mixed in with:
You should check in with your military responsibilities.
Make time for your wife because there was a time you didn’t, and that loss of connection had you making connections with people you had no business connecting with.
Your new job as a firefighter demands A LOT from you, and there are certain things and dynamics you just have to deal with during your probationary year because that is how things go.
Your brotherhood misses you. Check in from time to time.
And on top of that, I have these images to uphold to give myself the confirmation bias I need to believe I am strong, brave, and a dependable Black man.
All of these pressures of life PLUS an identity crisis that I only worked on in spurts.
And I wasn’t trying to work on things alone.
Over the years, I learned to ask for help.
But I could only ask for help in ways that still felt comfortable.
Having my wife in the room with me. Creating points of contact with her. Asking for alone time.
Even those things could be difficult.
We don’t live with one another, so it isn’t as simple as walking across the apartment toward her. I would have to text her and ask her to come upstairs. And I know—that’s not some massive journey.
But we are both in spaces that we have learned to associate with our own level of peace.
I already have trouble asking for help, so asking her to come upstairs because I know I need some level of regulation was difficult for me.
Even asking for alone time could make me feel guilty if I knew she was really looking forward to being with me.
Because I told myself I would be a great husband.
And that man shows up.
Always.
I put a lot of pressure on myself and ignored my own needs to maintain these images I wanted other people to see—the same images I wanted to see in myself.
And every time, eventually, the pressure caught up with me.
I needed a release.
And I would resort to sexual desire.
After a while, porn wouldn’t do it.
I started watching porn that resembled situations I could realistically imagine myself being in and featured women who resembled women I might find attractive in real life.
Then that wouldn’t be enough either.
I would scroll through Instagram pages and stories looking for a glimpse of someone who might be sexually open and test my luck with a suggestive comment, a like on a suggestive photo, or a reaction to a story.
Anything to open the door.
And why?
Because I was scared of dealing with my own shit.
Scared of confronting the only person who mattered:
Me.
Because if I confront him, what in my life has to change?
If I no longer have to fake it until I make it—which is legitimately what I feel like I do in almost every situation, heavy on the imposter syndrome—who will I be?
Who am I when I no longer portray an image?
And I’m sad and disappointed writing this because I think of all the times I allowed myself to just be and enjoy the moment.
And in those moments, I love who I am.
But in those moments, I don’t feel strong.
I don’t feel diligent.
I don’t feel like someone who has crossed all his T’s and dotted all his I’s.
I just feel like a kid.
But that kid isn’t going to keep everything safe.
So I didn’t allow him to come out often because I wanted to create a space where everyone else could be that kid.
And the person who suffered the most because of that was the person I wanted to protect the most:
My wife.
So many times I heard her ask:
“Are you happy with me? You walk around like you’re dead on the inside.”
And little did we know, I was.
I have realized that for a while now, I have been living without really feeling alive.
And when my wife says she is my rib, she quite literally is a part of me.
So when I don’t love myself, I am incapable of loving her properly.
When I disrespect myself by not choosing what I say I want and what I know is best for me, I quite literally end up disrespecting her.
So what now?
It took me years to figure it out, but I need to take care of me.
And that doesn’t just mean staying in shape physically.
It means dealing with my emotional needs.
I learned over the years to stay quiet to keep the peace, but constantly working to make everyone else comfortable will inevitably make you uncomfortable as you continuously compromise yourself for them.
I need to release the shame I have carried for hurting the woman I love and accept that it is on me to do better now that I know better.
I am proud of the progress I have made over the years because, unfortunately, I was worse.
But that progress is not enough.
And there is nothing shameful about admitting that.
It should simply serve as a reminder that the work doesn’t stop when my relationships get better.
The work continues so that my relationships stay better.
As for my wife, this serves as documentation of my progress—not only for me, but for you.
I will spend the rest of my days earning back your trust because being in a space of limbo, with just the hope that I can one day have an honest and real relationship with you again, is better than a life where I can only remember your touch, remember your consideration, and remember your peace.
My words have disappointed you over and over.
It will only be my actions, over time, that make a real difference.
I’m happy that things have finally “clicked” in my head about how important it is for me to deal with my mental and emotional health.
I’m sad that it took all of this for me to understand.
Nonetheless, what is done is done.
I will sit in every uncomfortable conversation.
I will sit with every uncomfortable thought.
And I am actively working on changing the pattern instead of finding another way to escape it.
For those who may be going through something similar, what has been helping me become aware of my emotions instead of immediately pushing them aside is keeping a small pocket notebook with me and writing whenever I feel discomfort.
When that discomfort arises, I ask myself what it is that I really want or what might be causing the feeling.
It isn’t important for me to figure everything out right now.
Right now, I just want to become aware.
And I want to make that awareness a habit.
I can tackle figuring everything else out later, maybe when I’m not emotionally pressed.
So now, the only fake image I want to portray on this Substack is the name.
Everything else is me.
And I’m in the process of learning that I am enough even when I don’t have things figured out.
This is me learning to love myself so that I can love my wife the way her beautiful soul deserves.
And I know you are reading this.
I love you, Kay.
More than I have ever been able to show.
But I will learn.
Because this is what I want.
I have always been certain of that.