The Ripple Effect
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[0 Comment]Our house should have been quarantined.
We were getting sick of each other, and I mean that literally. Our stress level had made us all physically ill.
Because of changes in our finances and lifestyle, our marriage disintegrated. Even though my husband and I sought counseling, bitterness consumed our lives and affected our family.
My daughter suffered severe migraines. My son caught a never-ending cold. My husband's back stiffened from the tension between us. I'd watch the pain rifle through his body: He'd clench his jaw, close his eyes, grab his back with one hand, and reach for the countertop or the wall with the other.
While my physical health was fine, I was an emotional mess. For years, I spent my lunch hour in the gym, but as depression set in, I didn't have the energy or desire to walk the four blocks from my office to the club. I gained weight and felt miserable about my life and my body.
I resented Jack's long hours at the office and how his work seemed more important than family. He lectured me about the time I spent online. We argued about in-laws, lunch with friends, chores, and bedtimes. Nearly everything we did or said rubbed the wrong way.
Our anger began to spill over to our children. We shouted at them, so they shouted back at us. When Jack and I started yet another screaming match, the kids cowered in another room, praying (they later admitted) that we would just divorce. They stopped bringing their friends to the house.
At bedtime, Jack and I would pray together, asking for help that our marriage be healed, but the prayers seemed hopeless. Each Sunday, we went to church—but rarely as a family. Jack often woke before the rest of us and went to the early service. While the kids and I went to the later service, I didn't sit with them because I sang in the choir. Going to church had become an extension of the way we were living: alone and detached.
Diving In
As summer approached, my son asked for a pool pass. The public swimming pool is close by, making it a safe meeting spot for preteen boys.
"That's a good idea," my husband said. "I'll get a pool pass for myself too."
Thinking it would be nice to spend a summer Saturday at poolside rather than doing housework, I decided to join the guys. We offered the option to our daughter, but she turned us down. She'd rather hang out with her friends, she said.
On the first warm Saturday, we headed to the pool. My son quickly went off with his buddies. I pulled a paperback from my beach bag and began to read. Jack glared at me. "I can't believe you spent all that money on a pool pass just to sit here and read."
"I want to relax," I said. "I need to unwind."
"Well, I'm going to swim laps," he said. "You're welcome to join me."
He hadn't invited me to do anything with him in months. I put down the book and put on my swim goggles. He'd already found a lane so I dove in next to him. We each managed four laps before we'd exhausted ourselves.
Originally published in: Marriage Partnership, 2003, Fall
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