A few well-meaning friends have suggested I seek therapy as a prophylactic exercise following the end of my marriage. Introspection with a trained professional is certainly a task I’ve completed before; and truly, it was worth every dollar and hour and tissue. But I’m not feeling it with this crisis. In fact, I feel no desire to pick apart the marriage at all. This union died, not like a person exactly, more like a time in one’s life. No autopsy needed.

When people find themselves in intractable cycles of abuse, neglect, and misery in relationships, therapy is appropriate. But the kneejerk reaction to call a hotline whenever any major event occurs in one’s life seems strange to me. When did a person with an eight year degree in psychology become a preferred confidant to one’s best friend?

I’ve leaned on my friends and family a lot over the last couple months, and undoubtedly, I’ll continue to do so. I’m more than happy to reciprocate, and even in these circumstances, I’ve enjoyed giving pep talks to a couple friends in need of a shoulder. That’s what we’re here for. Most of the time, a good friend is all we need to get by.

When previous romantic relationships ended, when I was in my teens and twenties, I used to take months to write down, contemplate, and read about why it ended. Dissecting the break-up became a form of self-flagellation. Not wanting to repeat patterns, I was determined to find a cause of death for every ending. No more.

After twelve years of struggling to hold up both ends of a marriage, I feel quite certain of why it’s over…it was meant to end. I wasn’t meant to struggle any longer with him. Some answers are really simple, and finally, I’m old enough and tired enough to just let them be.

The irony in the situation is that my ex has started down the healing path with therapy, and would really benefit from conversations about what happened in our marriage and why it ended. He needs an autopsy to discover the cause of death. But I’m totally unwilling to work on this with him. I tried for years and now it’s too late. I don’t owe it to him. He’ll have to come up with his own conclusions.

I’ve learned a lot from this experience: useful things about how to be in the world. For example, texting one’s ex is a preferable form of communication to speaking to them. Humans express so many things by the tone in their voice and subtle word choices. Talking can be an agonizing experience when there’s emotion packed into every syllable. Text when things need to be communicated. 

Aside from collecting practical knowledge, I’m determined not to dwell on this anymore. Sometimes the most appropriate action is to move forward without looking back.