One of the struggles I’ve had in writing this blog has been how to refer to the man to whom I was married. Sounds pretty stupid, I know. I can imagine the thoughts now. What else would I call him but my husband? Good question. Here’s my answer.
To me, a husband is someone who has made a commitment to one person and worked to keep that commitment. It doesn’t mean that they are perfect or even that they are stellar examples of what a husband should be. They will make mistakes and maybe even have times where things aren’t great in the marriage. Their hearts, however, are still ultimately for their wives. They genuinely love and care for their wives, want to be with them and want the best for them.
This doesn’t define the man to whom I was married. He didn’t have just one affair where he then sought forgiveness and help to realize why he became involved in the affair, worked to change the actions and environment that led to the bad choices and ultimately looked to reconcile with me and be the husband he should be. Instead, he made many choices that were in direct opposition to being the husband he promised to be. Because of all this, calling him my husband triggers so many hurts, questions and memories that it’s kind of like a punishment every time I write about my experiences and thoughts.
I originally referred to him as “the one I loved” to avoid using the title husband, but this had a similar result. However, it also made me feel like a complete idiot who stayed even after issues came to the forefront. But I really wanted to believe he cared and that things could be different. I’d known him since I was 15 years old. He was my best friend, or at least I thought he was. He had pursued me for years, but (as I told him) once he got me, he progressively lost interest.
I loved him from when we were friends and I think he honestly did care for me at some point. But I have come to realize that if there had been any love for me, it was from during our friendship and he only married me because it was the next thing on his “to do” list. We’d graduated from college and it was the “next” step to take.
I don’t know if he ever loved me while we were married. I think we had fun together and we were comfortable with each other, but love wasn’t something he felt. There are times I even wonder if he knew how to love. We’d been friends and did so much together before we were married.
I know I loved him. So I thought referring to him as “the one I loved” was appropriate. But when the feeling of being stupid for loving him got to be too much, I began calling him my husband. I hoped that I wouldn’t be triggered as much if I changed what I called him. I figured that legally that was the appropriate name for him, but that’s pretty much where the appropriateness ended.
In reality, he never was committed to our marriage. His heart wasn’t for me. So moving forward, I’ve decided that I will refer to him by his middle name, Scott. The name Scott doesn’t have any kind of emotional hold on me. Sigh! I feel such relief by this choice.
~ Joanna Lynn
