Recently I had a conversation with my writing partner, D.C. Moody, about the prevalence of divorce in today’s American society. While it used to be a rare if not taboo thing, nowadays it seems like it’s just no big deal.
It is not uncommon to meet people who have been married two and three times (or more) with no societal stigma attached.
And I think that’s messed up.
The other day, just shortly after the conversation that put this whole topic into my head, I saw a sign on the side of the road advertising “quick and easy” divorces for the bargain price of $189.
It occurred to me, as I drove past the sign shaking my head, that we have become a society in which pretty much everything is now conveniently disposable — even wedding vows.
Let me clarify by first stating that I don’t believe that divorce should be made illegal or anything. I understand that men and women can find themselves in situations and cycles of abuse or infidelity to the point where there is no real alternative but to seek an escape from a damaging relationship.
What I am saying is that such an undertaking should be a last resort and certainly not something to be taken casually or lightly.
Even when divorce is clearly the only option for the unhappy couple, it always has repercussions, especially if there are children involved.
I was in high school when my parents divorced and I know first-hand how it affected my younger brothers and me. It wasn’t exactly the best time of our lives.
When my husband and I married, we kept things small. There were 12 people in total there — including the bride and groom. We said our vows on the shore of Lake Jocassee before crunching a wine glass underfoot in keeping with Jewish tradition. (In retrospect, smashing a glass on the beach was not entirely thought out …)
After the ceremony we all headed up to the villas where we held our reception. Everything was steeped in tradition and superstition: not seeing each other before the ceremony, the cutting of the cake and sipping wine from each other’s glasses with intertwined arms.
The funny part was, none of those things were very important to us. It was everyone else who was shouting for us to feed each other the wedding cake — a symbol and promise that we would always be there to “provide” for each other.
The catch? Everyone who shunned our notion that we would just eat our cake and not do the whole ceremonial thing was on their third marriage, which, in my mind, left them zero room to be doling out marital advice.
Earlier in October, my husband and I celebrated our wedding anniversary. While six years may not seem a lot to some people, I disagree and would argue that, in this day and age, six years is an accomplishment. Especially when it seems so many marriages end after just two or three years.
My favorite time of day is when the kids are in bed and John and I hang out in the kitchen just chatting about our day. Apparently it’s an odd thing that I genuinely enjoy my husband’s company but it shouldn’t be.
A close friend just called to tell me that he and his wife were thinking about divorcing. They have been married for just over a year. No one was abusive, no one was cheating — he just complained that he “wasn’t happy.”
I found that I was irritated, not supportive. Who’s happy all the time? No one. “Suck it up, you made a commitment,” is what I wanted to say. “That’s life. You have your ups and your downs, but you have to take those rolls with your partner.”
Instead I mumbled something about trying counseling and got off the phone as quickly as I could.
We may live in a time when it’s usually cheaper to replace things rather than fix them but that philosophy should never be applied to our own human interactions and relationships — even if it’s at the bargain rate of $189.
