Why now, why not tomorrow, why not yesterday. It cannot be never. – JEL
It’s winter, so the sun set ages ago. The sky is pitch black long before my car pulls into the unlit driveway. It is the perfect cover. I can linger out here longer, without my family noticing I’ve arrived home. Me time.
I sit in my parked car, slowly generating the energy to walk in the door as the minutes tick by. I keep negotiating “after this song,” until that delay tactic is beyond unreasonable.
I didn’t always use to be like this- sitting alone in my car, dreading being home with my family. I vaguely remember a time when I spent more energy motivating myself to leave the house and go to work; it’s more the opposite now. I’d rather do anything than walk through the garage door at the end of the day. The idea of working another 8-hour shift is more invigorating than stepping into my home.
What happened? Why now? When did it all change?
Some time, somewhere along the way, our happy home transformed. Well, that isn’t true. I transformed. Our happy home is still happy by the America standard- bustling with people and laughter, good food and frenetic energy.
Just now, the people and their laughter is too loud. The food and its smells are suffocating. The energy – it has left me unsettled instead of secure. I felt itchy in the kitchen, unwelcomed on the couch, a stranger in my own bed.
I didn’t just wake up like this. Unsatisfied and irritated. It happened gradually – it must have happened gradually. Otherwise, I would have noticed and fixed it. Right?
Our kids are nearly grown up, living almost completely independent lives. Driving to cheer practice, band practice, soccer, and classes. Keeping up with their friends and events is more than our 12-month fridge calendar can handle, even if it wasn’t stalled out on July of last year. Stalled out. Like me.
I sound ungrateful to my friends and family whenever I voice my dissatisfaction. And, they have a point. I’m healthy and so is my spouse. We’re not wealthy, but we don’t want for much. Our kids are growing into adults I can see myself proud of. And yet.
And yet, every weeknight I sit in the dark driving way avoiding the reality that I don’t want to be there. Home. On weekends I look for every excuse to escape. I’ve cultivated my life into segments in the name of avoidance of my family. What’s worse- I don’t think they’ve noticed. My presence isn’t missed.
Understandably so. My temper is short, and my irritation shows on my face. It echoes in my voice. As much as I don’t want to be around them and home, I don’t want to be around myself even more.
Tonight’s a little different though. Same dark car in the driveway and same playlist measuring the passage of time. But tonight, I hold a business card that has weighed heavy in my pocket for too long. I replay the conversation from this afternoon in my head over and over. I finally called today, after putting it off with “why not tomorrows” for weeks. A divorce attorney’s card flipping between my fingers as I reminisce about the most unexpected question I was asked over the phone: “Why now?”
That simple question gave me pause. A deafening amount of space to answer. Why now? But my answer, though stunted in pain of perceived failure, rang out clearly: “Because it can’t be never.” The proverbial ‘it’ being my happiness, my future, my honesty. It wasn’t yesterday and it may not be tomorrow. But my happiness and future deserved a fighting chance against never. A few hours later, that answer still rings true and solid in my head.
And maybe if I’d realized the shift away sooner, divorce wouldn’t be the answer. But I can’t imagine happiness without radical change. I can’t imagine happiness in that house.
Something shifted in me today. Dejected shifted to determined. Hopeless morphed into inspiration. There is a path forward for me and my family; where my kids can see the parent I once was when I can strip away the irritation and resentment coating my every action.
Cutting off the car, tucking that business card in my wallet and stepping outside – I brace myself for a crucial conversation with my family. I prepare to answer the most important question: why now.