The Marriage Boat
I hastily walked to a different building at work with the only empty conference room I had access to, holding my water and journal. It was a matter of minutes before my hospital pager would be alarming, summoning me in another direction when my only focus was to login for this long awaited appointment. My then husband and I had been on a waiting list for six months to meet with a highly regarded couples CSAT. It was our first session, and like all intake sessions, I was showing up with our 14-year relationship timeline and therapy goals, with a side of caffeine and life-induced anxiety. When our zoom cameras clicked to life, I was pleasantly surprised to see the face of a woman who held confidence and presence more like an attorney than a therapist. Sharply dressed, well-appointed, and with a professional office space nestled on either side of her. This was going to be well worth our wait.
My then husband took the floor, as he usually did in our couples therapy sessions, to explain to our CSAT why we were here, and his thoughts on our next steps. I remember tilting my head and raising my brows as he explained with business-like acumen that we both made missteps in our marriage, and that our goal for therapy was to decide if we are moving forward with reconciliation, and back into our marital home together. Our CSAT paused, and then began with a story. She asked my then husband to picture a boat floating on the water. The boat represents marriage. She went on to explain that sometimes we punch holes in our marriage boat. She said, “I punched holes in my marriage boat. My colleagues down the hall punched holes in their own marriage boats.” Her summation, of course, being that we all punch holes in our marriage boat. “Sometimes, the holes are so big, the boat even starts to sink,” she continued. She paused again, for a climax I knew was coming but not entirely sure my then husband knew, and said, “We are not here to talk about the holes in your marriage boat. We are here, to understand why you jumped off the boat for 6 years.”
Dear partner, today’s post is to shed both the darkness and light on our marriage boat. We, dear partner, are not on your average marriage boat. I used to tell my girlfriends when they would call fuming over their husband forgetting to take the trash out, that I would welcome a healthy fight and repair session over a full trash bin, or dirty laundry scattered on the bedroom floor.
The darkness that covers our marriage boat suggests that we never had a chance. Every disagreement on household responsibilities, child raising, what you made for dinner, how your in-laws are driving you mad, or plans to host family for holidays were all superseded by choices our partners were making without our consent. Our worst moments and performances as a spouse do not match the magnitude of marriage boat holes from blatant deception. A line I heard frequently nearing the end, was that we both did things to ruin our marriage My response today, dear partner, is I never had a chance. The reality is, I was never on the marriage boat with a committed and honest partner.
The light that covers our marriage boat suggests that we honor this reality. Our CSAT did not deviate from this reality. She faced it, head on. She acknowledged the severity of the actions at hand. The devastating aftermath. The wreckage. These were not holes. These were life-altering choices with devastating consequences. It is important, dear partner, a therapist honors this reality as a first step. Acknowledging the magnitude of damage, and consequences from that damage, to our marriage boat.
The couples CSAT was brutally honest at our next session, the one where I shared his second affair disclosure that had just come out one week prior, when she simply said, “I do not know where to go from here.” I kindly thanked her for her time. I too, did not know where to go from here. Our lifeless marriage boat, sailing on into unchartered waters I was growing tired of navigating alone.
