Because we were both Americans and had walked in at the same time, the gyro and grill restaurant owner understandably confused us for being together. To make matters more confusing the very nice, older lady from Maine was also ordering take-out. Alas is owned by a young couple where the wife is Anglo-Greek and speaks fluent, very British English and thankfully, she was the one helping us and was able to sort out the confusion quite quickly. The wait time for our orders gave two new American acquaintances time to well, get acquainted.
Dressed like a Mainer with a down-filled vest and clothes and a hat I would easily see as ideal for a day hike on a New England nature trail, my new friend is staying three months because, like me, Patmos is her favorite island. Unlike me, she had a winter to get away from. Her first husband, the love of her life, passed away. Then she remarried and that was a mistake - she needed out of that relationships within a few years. Now she enjoys time abroad, but never the entire year because she has children and grandchildren to enjoy at home. She has thought often of buying property here – but feels it's just too much to manage from abroad and that vacation rentals are the way to go for her peace of mind.
When he first asked me what I was doing here for ten weeks, I answered "writing" because it was a succinct way to explain being here without wife and kids without getting into my full story. But upon further inquiry, I went ahead and gave the full context. Very kindly, her heart broke for me.
"I am so sorry to hear that. Divorce is SO HARD. I went through it and let me tell you divorce is a very BRAVE decision. People will judge in all sorts of ways and it takes some bravery to do what you need to do."
I explained that while I think that's true, it's not an easy choice – especially with the kids. Moreover, I'm always caught between two ideas: 1. that marriage means sticking out the bad times and there's a value on perseverance and finding depth in a relationship for getting through the rough patches and 2. knowing when to cut bait on something gone irreparably wrong.
She said that's so true – especially when young kids like mine are involved and that it is really a very tough decision. Without asking me anything about the circumstances leading up to our separation, she clearly intuited some of the story.
"You never know, your wife may come around. You'll see when you get home. She may come to appreciate things better and you have such young kids…. If my dead husband was here, he'd tell you, 'I never liked her anyway!' "
I appreciated her warmth and humor. Then her gyro came and we said we'd see each other around. She left with one final piece of advice, "You know, as you get older, it's nice to have someone there. You can take care of each other. It matters."
Here's a woman who had come to my juncture more than once – and handled things in different ways. I'm sure her first marriage wasn't all smooth sailing, but she stayed in it and went the distance with love. Then later, she made a mistake and cut bait – clearly without regret.
Talking with her brought to mind something I consider often – that you never know how the path not taken would work out.
Sure, in limited contexts we do. Today was forecasted for rain at 10 am, but it only drizzled lightly. My weather app kept pushing back the hour at which rain would begin – but the percentage of likelihood stayed up there. Eventually, I needed to run into town for at least a few errands. Everything in town seemed normal – no one getting ready to shelter from the store. When done, I debated staying in town and writing at a cafe, or coming home to ensure my laptop didn't get rained on. I opted for home – but with some remorse, thinking staying in for the day necessarily sounded kinda' lame. Right after walking in the door a massive downpour hit. I have a pretty good idea how the other path would have worked out – and I feel validated.
The same idea applies in other limited contexts. We looked at that house, decided it was too close to a fault line, the next year an earthquake hits and the house is severely damaged. Bullet dodged, decision validated. Cancelled that mid-to-late February trip to Ukraine. Decided not to pursue your dream as a restaurateur in Early March 2020. Chose not to take your friend's advice on that amazing investment with Bernie Madoff.
We don't get a lot of these moments in life. Even then, notice it's easier to validate the catastrophe avoided than the success gained. Sentiments like, "If I had only married so and so, things would have worked out much better," or "If I had only followed my heart and become a toilet paper and paper towel distributor, I would be rich now!" are still conjecture because any number of things could have happened along the way. Maybe the imagined spouse is a functional alcoholic and you didn't know it or the amount of reserve capital you might have needed on-hand to make the big bucks during the paper goods bubble of 2020 was more than you could have secured? It's impossible to know.
Humans have the tendency toward confirmation bias – largely to keep us sane. If we had to face all the false assumptions, irrational decisions and poor choices we make without any buffer or reinforcement, we would probably all lose our minds. My friend Alex has taken on an experiment of videotaping he and his partner arguing. Later, they watch the replay. He said it's devastating to both of them to see themselves and what they objectively look and sound like arguing. The narratives we maintain in our heads versus what the camera captures can be quite different.
As I have mentioned before, our need for narrative to make sense of our world and ourselves is powerful – to the point that we will engage in belief perseverance, a form of confirmation bias in which people simply reject factual evidence in favor of hanging onto a steadfast conclusion, opinion or belief. In other words, when cornered, we'll often rationalize the absurd to protect our psyches.
When making a big life decision, our need to be right is ever-more pronounced. Most people made the very best choice of place to live, home, car, partner, lifestyle. It's hard to find happiness saying, "He was my third choice for a husband, but you know, he'll do and better someone than no one." I have known one person in my life who has actually came out and said – not in a facetious or half-joking way – that becoming a parent was a mistake and they would have been happier not having done it. I actually admired that person's incredible honesty and candor. I think that might be one of the hardest, most painful things to admit to one's self, let alone to say out loud to another person – in a clear and mature way, no less. Like most things, if one person is saying it, there's a hundred others who feel the same way, but aren't saying it. In this case, maybe hundreds of thousands or even millions. I don't know. But whatever the number, it's real.
Most of us don't have that self-awareness or candor. We made the right choice or the best choice. Even when disappointed, we don't regret the decision – we'd probably do the same thing all over again because of something beautiful we got from it.
Would we really?
My first inclination is to say, "Hell no! Knowing what I do now, I would have listened to the growing doubts I had about Emily as we approached our wedding." I went to therapy about it. For me, it all came down to two things: 1. No one is perfect and I could keep fishing and always end up with some set of problems 2. Love is a risk. You have to decide you'll love someone despite their flaws and hope for the same in return. I decided I could do that.
It would be easy in this bitter moment to say the other path would have been better. It might have been. Or not. I can never prove that it would have. One thing I had always sought to avoid was having kids with the wrong person – being stuck or linked to someone with whom I wouldn't want to go the distance. I thought I had avoided it – but here I am, possibly in that exact position.
Still, perhaps the other path would have led to me to someone worse? Or to no one at all and loneliness would have overtaken me? Maybe the strength of this path despite the current crossroads is that through my marriage I grew as a person. I am a more confident and mature person in no small part because of my relationship with Emily and the family we created. I didn't think I was worthy of the love and devotion I wanted from a marriage when I met her. I was willing to give it in hopes of it coming back to me. Now I do believe I'm worthy of those things. Perhaps those gains are exactly what will lead me through this quagmire and onto a better next phase of my life? Maybe my relationship with Emily is meant to end and to have been an important developmental step on a longer life path? Maybe I walked exactly the path I should have? Wouldn't that be nice?
Or maybe that's illusory correlation, a type of confirmation bias in which people incorrectly link a relationship between two events or situations? It certainly would give me a narrative that would let me hold my head up high and march through a divorce despite the pain.
Likewise, I can easily imagine a scenario in which five, ten and twenty years from now, Emily and I look back on this time as a pivotal moment when we grew individually and as a couple – and we're so glad we pulled through it because if the richness it brought to subsequent stages of our marriage.
If we divorce, I'll inevitably find the reasons it was for the best. I'll tell myself it was the best choice possible and my life has only improved because of it. Everyone who knows and loves me will likely do the same because that's what we do for the people we love (unless they made a really, large, objectively idiotic mistake – which happens sometimes). Maybe that would be true. Though we'll never know if there was a richness possible by breaking the cycle of our core issues and growing again as a couple and a family.
If Emily and I stay together and actually do it well, then it will be clear we made the very best choice possible – backed up further by the stability it gave our kids. That could be right. Although we'll never know how a life without each other might have unfolded and how individually happy and fulfilled we might have been.
I interpret Emily's base assumption to be that by getting rid of the guilt, weight and pressure she feels from her relationship with me, she'll be happier. She will find relief. But happier and better outcomes are not necessarily as clear. The problem with running away from something is you don't always know what you're running towards.
For me, the opposite issue remains. I have been more willing to stay not knowing if there's a better place to go. I especially worry about how my/our decisions will affect our children and I have never thought them getting only one parent at a time – or me getting them half as much – is a better outcome. But then, I have less need to run. Whatever I don't like in my marriage, it wasn't overwhelming me until Emily called a state of emergency. I want to know a new path is better BEFORE I go on it. In lieu of that, I want to know that at least it leads to some improvement – some positive trade-off. Taking intentional next steps with my life matters most to me, especially if my kids and I are going to pay a price. We might as well get something for it. Of course, I may well be ignoring things I SHOULD be running from. I may have allowed too much to go wrong without taking action.
Maybe I'm just trying to avoid buyer's remorse – the inverse side of confirmation bias – the worry that the other path was inevitably better, or at least that this path is a mistake.
Or maybe I want both intentionality and to avoid buyers remorse? Wouldn't most of us want that?
Why does any of this matter? Because we can't live life in the rearview mirror. While we need to learn our lessons and carry what's applicable and useful forward with us, we inevitably have to keep our eyes on the road. Wondering what the other path might have looked like doesn't help us live in the present or make good decisions for the future. Neither does blindly validating the choices we have made. We make subpar choices all the time – and we have to live with them. I'd like whatever comes out of this time in my life not to be subpar. I'd like it to lead to something Good. Perhaps that can happen either way. One thing I'm sure of is that HOW I go forward is going to be the key to living my best life including giving my kids their best lives.
As the wisdom of Kenny Loggins and Michael McDonald tells me, "This is it. Make no mistake where you are."
I'm starting to realize WHAT Emily and I decide may be less important that HOW we decide to live out our choice. These next steps after returning home won't only be about deciding which way to go, but developing the terms and understandings that will determine the quality of all of our lives. In fact, whether together or apart, I'm in for the negotiation of my life.
