It Took Me 25 Years To Accept That My Husband Would Never Stand Up For Me
It also took me that long to understand I never should have expected him to.
Curated Lifestyle | Unsplash When people fall madly in love and are planning a future together, the last thing they want to hear is some killjoy warning them: “Remember, you’re marrying this person as-is. Don’t expect them to change!”
That message is a real downer for folks who are in love — flying high on dopamine, oxytocin, and adrenaline. While that admonition is sound, a smitten person would discard it as quickly as a parent with their newborn’s poopy diaper.
It would sound to them like a father giving his son a “buyer beware” lecture just as the teen is about to blow his hard-earned savings on a real clunker. While dear old dad’s caveat is reasonable, it’s not something his pumped-up kid wants to hear at that moment.
Nobody who’s head over heels in love wants to imagine their sweetie pie as a bucket of bolts. Instead, it’s far more romantic to see them as a sleek vehicle with no history, scratches, dings, or defects, and zero mileage.
If any modifications need to be made down the road, they’re convinced it won’t be a problem. Since love is blind, they lose sight of the simple fact that a VW Beetle can’t become a Range Rover, and a Toyota Prius can’t become a Jeep Wrangler, no matter how many alterations are made. But the truth is you can't change anyone but yourself.
It took me twenty-five years to accept that my husband would never stand up for me.
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While I’m in no way suggesting my husband was a clunker when we wed (he certainly wasn’t), I thought he’d miraculously morph into what I needed him to be. I caused us both a lot of grief before finally figuring out that the only person I could change was myself.
Without even being aware of it, I expected my husband to repair the wreckage from my first 18 years on this planet when I lived under my parents’ control. My father was verbally abusive, and his hateful words left an ugly imprint on my psyche.
As an adult, it felt like I was still under attack and needed to take cover. I was looking for someone to stand up for me and shield me from harm. I just assumed my husband would take on that role, even though he was ill-suited for it.
The psychologist Dr. Robin Smith wisely noted: “Adulthood is to finish the unfinished business of childhood.” While attempting to repair the damage done to us as kids, we often recruit folks we think can help us. When they fail to do that, we feel let down. I chose a sweet, kind, and laid-back husband because I found those qualities attractive.
Throughout our marriage, the scared little girl I once was would resurface and want a warrior to protect her.
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I see now how unfair that was to my husband, but at the time, I was blind to it. It felt like I was under attack. Even though my husband and I had been married for 25 years, I was still seeking my mother-in-law’s stamp of approval like an insecure newlywed. I
t was our first get-together with my in-laws after the pandemic. I prepared pork chops with a plum shallot sauce, garlicky mashed potatoes, asparagus, and a chocolate-amaretto cheesecake for dessert.
Halfway through the meal, my mother-in-law turned to me with a grave expression and spoke in a quivering voice: “You should have told me that my grandson is gay and has a longtime boyfriend. His cousin recently let it slip, and I was shocked and hurt that I didn’t hear it directly from you. It felt like a real slap in the face. I thought you and I were closer than that.”
There were so many things I should have said at that moment, but I acted like a deer caught in the headlights. It felt like I was once again that frightened little girl who was being berated by her father, knowing he’d only get louder and meaner if she uttered a word or made a sound.
I looked over at my husband, who was just sitting there, not saying a word to defend me. He reminded me of my mother, who never intervened when my dad called me fat and stupid. She was just relieved he was attacking me, not her. I imagined my husband felt the same way. He was grateful his mom was criticizing me while he was getting away scot-free.
I should have gently reminded my mother-in-law that my son was an adult and, therefore, it wasn’t my place to share his personal information. I should have let her know that it’s not okay to “out” gay people. I should have told her that my son was gradually opening up about that aspect of himself to one person at a time.
I should have heard the sadness in my mother-in-law’s voice. I should have felt compassion for the hurt she was experiencing. I should have admired her courage and vulnerability in expressing herself. Yet, I was too preoccupied with keeping myself safe.
I was too busy being furious with my husband for not stepping in to defend me from what I interpreted as an attack; all I could hear was my father telling me I was a bad girl. But we’re never upset for the reason we think.
That dreadful dinner proved to be a turning point for me — from that point on, I decided to let my husband off the hook and stand up for myself.
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After days of giving my husband the silent treatment, I broke down one afternoon and sobbed wildly for what seemed like an eternity.
When my bawling session was over, I was thoroughly drained and knew I needed to start doing things differently. I understood the incident with my mother-in-law had nothing to do with her, my son, or my husband. Instead, it had everything to do with me and the scared, defenseless little girl inside of me.
From that moment forward, I let my husband off the hook and never again expected him to stand up for me. I finally made the decision to be my own warrior, champion, advocate, defender, and parent. I vowed to never abandon that little girl again.
McKenna Meyers is a longtime teacher who writes about early childhood education, parenting, relationships, celebrities, current events, and politics on Medium. She’s recently become an empty-nester and is now enjoying more free time to hike, kayak, and travel with her husband and two dogs.