I’m Stuck in Isolation With the Man Who’s Divorcing Me

On February 16, three days before my birthday, my husband of 13 years announced that he “didn’t want to be married anymore.” X and I have had our issues over the years, as all couples do. Our disagreements usually centered around finances — shocking, I know.

Our communication styles are vastly different, and that’s always posed challenges, but we had always been able to talk through our problems, though, and ultimately would end up feeling exponentially better about our relationship.

Like most couples, we also know how to push each other’s buttons. I have a much more acute fight-or-flight instinct than X does, so I occasionally ended our more heated arguments by threatening divorce. When we’d talk through everything later, X always expressed his disbelief that I would even use “the D-word.” That the concept of not being married was unthinkable. Yet here we are.

Just over one month after X asked for a divorce, Indiana’s government issued the first of two ongoing shelter-in-place orders for everyone not deemed “essential.” Now I know what it’s like to self-isolate with someone who wants to be anywhere but with you.

X is considered an essential worker, so he continues to leave the house three days a week. In his free time, he works on the home improvement items suggested by our realtor — we have to list and sell our home, after all, as part and parcel of the divorce that I don’t want. I spend my nonworking time actively not helping with the painting and the tile work; I’m not the one who wants this to be my reality.

It’s hard to pinpoint the exact reason we’re separating. Maybe it was the financial pressure from when I was out of work, or perhaps it was my downward spiral into depression and anxiety. Maybe it ticks all the boxes of a midlife crisis, that event we all make jokes and memes about, but never imagine something like this could ever happen to us. The reasons don’t really matter at this point, because I’ve essentially been told that I’m being evicted from life as I’ve known it. My son from a previous marriage is supposed to start his freshman year of college in August; life as he’s known it is over too.

X isn’t a monster; he agreed to wait to file for divorce until my son moves onto campus. We decided early on that we could live together amicably for the next few months, giving me time to secure a full-time job. X said he wanted us to continue to be friends and maintain a relationship with one another’s families despite the dissolution of our marriage. My anxiety was, at that time, overwhelming to the point I was legitimately concerned about heart damage. My mental health, which was already in the basement, sunk lower than I could ever have imagined. Then the coronavirus came along.

Now I have more significant concerns: My parents, both in their seventies, have decided that sheltering in place doesn’t apply to them. My younger brother works in an ICU where every single bed is Covid positive. My older sister is a neuropsychologist at another hospital and she had her entire patient load moved to another unit to make room for overflow from other facilities. My Facebook news feed is filled with pleas for more masks from my friends in the medical profession.

Now I know what it’s like to self-isolate with someone who wants to be anywhere but with you.

I managed to land a new job in March, but I’m incredibly anxious that the offer might be rescinded given the current state of affairs. My official start date was supposed to be this month; now it’s pushed back to May. I’ve asked X for a moratorium on the divorce talk for the time being. I feel like I will literally have a stroke if I’m compelled to carry all of these burdens at once. Thankfully, he’s consented thus far. Instead of addressing the elephant in the room, we stream Netflix together, make dinner for one another, share the housework. But I know he feels trapped — after all, his goal was to be done with our marriage and any related responsibility by the end of summer. But we both know the devolving economy won’t allow for that. His dreams of “doing his own thing” are being postponed by the coronavirus.

But as crappy as life seems right now, I’m managing to find some gratitude in all of this. A lot of people going through separation or divorce are now stuck at home with abusive, manipulative partners. I’m not part of that group, and I pray with everything I have that anyone who has to share space right now with an abuser is safe.

My relationships with my parents and siblings have never been stronger. I know that I am surrounded by people who love me and support me and, should I need it, will house me once all of this Covid-19 madness is over. In an ironic twist, I am faring better mentally than many right now; I’ve been self-isolating for a year and have become quite used to staying indoors.

I don’t understand anything that’s going on right now — not my job situation, not the pandemic, and especially not my marriage. And I’m slowly beginning to realize that for right now, maybe I’m not meant to. That has to be enough right now.

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