After two years of marriage, I had accepted the majority of my husband’s eccentricities, but there was still one thing that bothered me. He would spend at least five to ten minutes in his car before entering his house each time he arrived home. I initially found it strange but innocuous. I couldn’t figure out why, but it seemed like he needed those quiet times to himself. He eventually confided in me, telling me that this behavior was the result of a traumatic event in his life. He was shaken by the experience of discovering his ex cheating on him when he returned home years ago. Since then, he believed that before entering any house, even ours, he required a few minutes to get ready.
I felt sorry for him, but I didn’t like this routine of his. He seemed to be abandoning me and our shared house to wait. He would just wait outside while I was preparing dinner and getting ready to welcome him home. I can’t even begin to count how many times this has happened. He would still loiter in his car when we had company waiting, acting as if getting his time in was more essential than spending time with his loved ones. Despite our repeated arguments, he always came back to the same conclusion: that was his coping mechanism.
I tried to ignore it, but it kept coming back to me. What if he was unable to enter immediately due to an urgent situation?
Then that “what if” materialized one evening. Despite my husband’s kindness toward him, my 8-year-old son, who is from a previous relationship, suffered a catastrophic accident. I could tell something wasn’t right when he stumbled and fell down the steps and yelled in agony. I called my husband, who was still at work, in a panic when I noticed his ankle was bruised and swollen. I requested him to help transport my son to the hospital as soon as possible. He said he would be there in a few minutes and hurried out of the office.
However, those minutes passed slowly. Despite my best efforts to remain composed, I couldn’t help but look at the clock while comforting my baby. Then I watched his car pull up as I looked out the window. I felt a wave of relief—until the seconds passed and he remained inside. I kept thinking that he would arrive at any moment. He simply sat there, though. I kept calling him, but he didn’t pick up. The disbelief and frustration increased. It was unbelievable to me that he would remain in the automobile at this particular moment.
At last, I dashed outside and faced him. After giving me a quick glance, he explained that he had been waiting there for about eight minutes and would wait another two before entering. He looked me in the eye and said he didn’t feel “comfortable” coming inside before his regular time was over when I asked him why he wasn’t coming inside to assist our son right now.
I was taken aback. enraged. Heartbroken. He ordered me to “get him ready” and promised to join me in a few minutes, despite my pleas for him to rush inside so we could take our son to the hospital. Something suddenly snapped within of me. Eventually, I resorted to my neighbor, who offered to drive us to the hospital after noticing the disturbance.
I couldn’t get rid of the notion that something had changed in my marriage while I was at the hospital holding my son’s hand. My spouse came later, apologizing and explaining everything. However, I was unable to hear. He attempted to explain to me that he felt trapped in his response. However, that simply made me more irate.
I packed my things and went home with my son to stay with my mother. I informed my husband via text that I was seeking a divorce. He felt that this was an exaggeration, and he sent me a barrage of letters in an attempt to excuse, explain, and rationalize. His family then became involved and accused me of pushing him too hard and ignoring his trauma, which made him “worse.”
I feel totally adrift now. Even though my family is encouraging, I still feel confused and guilty. How can I trust someone who sat outside our house during a crisis? My spouse continues to believe that I’m exaggerating the situation. How can I trust someone who, in times of greatest need to our family, refused to break his ritual?
People offered me advice.
I’m wondering if I’m making the proper decision after the entire experience. Is it reasonable to expect my partner to be there unconditionally when it really counts, or am I overreacting?
