Dear Bel, I am 55, married for 20 years, with three teenage children (18, 16, 15). Three years ago, I went on a course and fell madly in love with my teacher. He distanced himself, so we never had an affair.
However, this had a dramatic effect on me and my marriage, which had been limping along. My husband’s work has always dominated our marriage and I have lived virtually the life of a single mother. I battled on until my youngest went to senior school, and suddenly, when I reached this college and had all this attention, I realised all the things I have been missing — a loving, sexual relationship and someone who took a real interest in me. Afterwards, I very painfully had to readjust to life as before, and it has taken three years (plus counselling) to do this.
Meanwhile, my husband was made redundant a year ago. This has made the situation worse. My children are old enough not to need to have their father around (who has been traumatised by the loss of his job). Not only do we now have financial problems but also the stress of readjusting to this new person at home who doesn’t do any of the normal domestic tasks. The realisation that my marriage is very unsatisfactory has brought me to the brink of divorce. Is it unreasonable to do this to my husband and children? Should I expect more — or should I accept things as they are?
Francesca
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Recently a reader called Sue wrote that she thinks I am a little too prone to advise people to stay within “dull” marriages. She left hers some years ago and has never looked back. She’s had more than one exciting affair and feels truly fulfilled. This is the “one life” argument: that we are on this earth for a short span, and owe it to ourselves to make the most of it. You are not the first mid-fifties woman to look at her sleeping husband and cry out silently that he isn’t enough, he doesn’t deliver . . . And you won’t be the last to gaze over the giant gate at the greensward just out of reach: so fresh, so tempting.
But the green space could prove to be full of weeds and your voice may sound small in its vastness.You know it will be tough. On the other hand, if you were brave or desperate enough to make the move as a demonstration of independence and integrity — then you might find yourself in a state of greater happiness. Nobody can predict the outcome.
You married at 35, which isn’t young. You very much wanted children. Maybe that implies that you were listening to the biological clock rather than to your heart; maybe you never “fell madly” for your husband. So this crush on a teacher has unsettled you deeply.
But you mustn’t assume that the affair you never had would have provided all the things you say you’ve been missing. Don’t allow that past romantic disappointment to cast a pall over the present. Fairness compels me to point out that you’re comparing your familiar, fallible husband with a clever charmer you never knew properly at all.
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Still, it made you focus on the cracks. Your sense of identity had ebbed away amid the needs of the family, and (like so many couples) you and your husband settled into a traditional relationship in which you “allowed” his selfishness and workaholism. Was it for a quiet life? Or did you relish your powerful role at the centre of the family, with those children so dependent on you? Then, perhaps the knowledge that the empty nest was approaching pushed you to start that significant course.
You have changed, but so has your husband. I suspect you both feel intensely lonely as well as bitterly disappointed. You want so much more than he can give, but maybe deep down you realise you should stop identifying your needs in terms of what a man can provide. But the internal change required to move beyond that is both challenging and frightening. No wonder you take refuge in dreams of romance.
Your husband feels a failure because he has lost the thing which defined him: his work. Lost, hanging about the house in which he has played no role, he must know that he has failed within his marriage too, in that his wife is so unhappy. Meeting the tutor made you discontented with the wife-mother mantle, while the job loss has made your husband feel useless. You required him to provide the fuel — he required you to keep the home fire burning. N either of you is delivering and the grate is dull and cold.
As to your key questions, my answer is “Yes” to the first and “No” to the final one. You cannot accept things as they are because nobody is happy — and that includes those children. They must be profoundly unsettled by all the rows, as well as the coldness. You say they “are old enough not to need to have their father around” but I’m afraid I have to take issue with that. You would be amazed at the effect a marriage breakup can have on offspring even in their mid-to-late twenties. So if you do decide to leave, expect them to be angry with you. Would it be “unreasonable”? Not if it is the result of reasoning with yourself very carefully. But despite your emotional state you owe it to the whole family to think it through. So, if we don’t accept the unhappy present, what do we do about achieving that elusive “more”? First, the process of finishing your studies and following through towards a new definition of who you are is hugely important. Secondly, you have to start a serious dialogue with this husband of yours and see what you can make of him. You observe his grief at the loss of such a large part of his identity; surely you feel some compassion? Instead of feeling critical, try to show that you understand, because that is the only way your big conversation can start. What’s stopping him from pulling his weight at home? Could he retrain while you go out to work? Ask the kids their opinion too.
Taking an interest cuts two ways. In three years’ time, when your youngest finishes school, you may be ready to step out on your own; to move forward, having set everything in place, leaving your husband behind. But you won’t have fallen off the brink in desperation. You’ll have slowly unfolded your wings and taught yourself how to fly.
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Dear Bel,
I have a 17-year-old son who says he wants to go to university because “it sounds like so much fun”. After much prompting, he says he wants to study film making but has made no effort to find a suitable course. My husband and I have saved and sacrificed so that there is £30,000 for his university years. My gut feeling is that it will be extremely difficult for him to make a living in this field and because he doesn’t have the motivation it will be a waste of money. But I don’t want to be the one that makes him give up his dream.
Marie, 48
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I’m rather worried about your sums — not the accuracy, but the fact that you are doing them at all. It stores up future disappointment when we put a price on parenting, and that’s what you are doing. Not that I blame you; you’re a devoted mum losing sleep over this perfectly normal, if frustrating, boy.
Let’s pick up that word “dream”. Everything indicates that your son hasn’t got any dream at all, except being dreamy, like so many unfocused teenagers. The truth is, it’s your dream that he goes to university; you’re the one who’s prompted, researched, worried. If he is so very unmotivated, I suggest it may not be the right thing for him at this stage. Far too many kids go, or go too soon and drop out. Never mind wasting their poor parents’ money — it wastes their spirits.
Leave it. Stop being self-sacrificing. Make sure that money is earning high interest somewhere and stop running in circles round him. Tell him, in a chilled-out way you think it will be better if he gets a job after school, until he decides what to do. With luck, in time, he will discover his passion.
DO YOU NEED ADVICE
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E-mail your problems to: bel.mooney@thetimes.co.uk or write to her at: T2, 1 Pennington Street, London E98 1TT, including your name and age, for publication. Bel Mooney cannot enter into personal corresspondence