My Mormon-Evangelical Interfaith Marriage — Divorce?
Note: This is part 5 of a multi-part post. See the end of the post for links to the other parts.
This part of my interfaith marriage series has been some time in the making, largely because I have a difficult time writing about such a painful experience in my life. I also have a hard time telling the story without sounding like I’m putting down my husband, which I do not wish to do. So, I’m just going to try to stick to the facts.
When we had been married for almost a year, my husband sat me down and told me that he had been thinking about divorcing me for the past several months. He claimed that I had been a perfect wife and he had no complaints about me, but he was having second thoughts about a lifetime of interfaith marriage. He had decided that he wanted to get married in the temple and have his children be sealed to him, and he wanted to raise his children in the church, so he thought it would be best if we went our separate ways before any children entered into the union.
From my perspective, his revelation came from out of nowhere and was completely unfair. We had discussed at length the ramifications of an interfaith marriage long before we ever got engaged, and furthermore, he said it all as if he had already thought it all through and made up his mind to divorce me. Our first year had been rocky, but I did not think there was anything beyond the normal difficulties a couple goes through on their first year together. He had never given me any inkling of a hint that he was thinking of divorce, and I couldn’t believe how quickly he was willing to turn his back on his marriage vows.
In my desperation, I offered to investigate the church (again) and see if I could get past the doubts which had caused me to say “no” to the church the first time around. My husband’s answer shocked me. He basically said, “Well, good luck with that, but I’m still proceeding with the divorce in the meantime.” That was when I realized that his desire for a divorce was far more complicated than the question of our differing faiths. It felt like he was hiding behind our faith impasse as an excuse for not dealing with more pressing problems in our marriage.
Right around the time of our first anniversary, I moved out into my own apartment a few blocks away from his, but I continued to fight him on the divorce. I told him that I would not sign the divorce papers willingly unless he did marriage counseling with me. I met privately with his bishop and stake president and told them how he had treated me and how he was telling me that the reason for the divorce was our different religions, yet he had not shown the slightest interest in helping me investigate the church again. They took his temple recommend away.
I continued to argue with my husband and insist that our different faiths had nothing to do with the divorce, told him that he owed it to me to at least tell me the real reason he wanted to leave. Finally he broke down and admitted that I was right. He said that the real reason he wanted a divorce was because I was impossible to live with, that whenever we had a disagreement or something went wrong in our lives, I blamed everything on him. “Emotional abuse” he called it. He said I had gotten so good at blaming him that he could not even try to tell me how much it was bothering him. I was a little shocked, because as I thought about it I knew he sort of had a point and I have never noticed it. But . . . that was also a completely fixable problem. Why couldn’t he give me the chance to work things out and be a better wife? Why had he pushed all this “You’re perfect, it’s our faith that divides us” stuff at me?
He angrily insisted that he was done with me and was not going to give me any more chances. He went to the marriage counseling, but his participation was apathetic and minimal. After a few sessions the counselor asked us, on a scale of one to ten, what was our desire to make our marriage work. I answered 10. Paul answered zero. He said he had no desire whatsoever to see our marriage work out, and as I broke down crying the counselor apologetically told me that she did not think there was anything she could do to help us save our marriage.
After that last counseling session, I came to a resolution. I let go. I told Paul I was sorry I had hurt him and sorry that he could not find it in his heart to give our marriage another chance. I told him that I believed he was sinning against me, but I would always do my best to love him. I told him he could give me the divorce papers, and I would sign them and let him be on his way, just so long as he understood and accepted that the divorce was entirely his choice and not mine. He said okay.
The month of December stretched on and the divorce papers never arrived. My husband started coming over to see me more often. We would eat dinner together, play video games, talk about school and the upcoming holiday season and whatnot. He did not bring up the prospect of getting back together with me, but it was clear that he was trying to be friends with me again. I planned on flying home to Washington state to visit my family for the two-week holiday break. When I had moved out, Paul had given me permission to take most of the furniture and appliances, so his current apartment was sparsely furnished and unpleasant to live in. I suggested that he stay in my apartment while I was in Washington state. He agreed.
The two weeks I spent in Washington state that holiday season were some of the most agonizing of my life. After that last counseling session, I had given my husband up for lost and was already working on adjusting to life as a young divorcee. Was he actually having second thoughts? I kept waiting for him to call me and see how I was doing, but he never did, which I thought was a bad sign. Finally, on the day after Christmas, I called him.
He said that my time away had made him miss me so much more, and he realized now what he was letting go of. He was still unsure about the future, but he wanted to give things another try. We moved back in together when I got back to Utah, and we sold the lease on his old apartment a few weeks later. After a few months he was finally comfortable with throwing out all of the divorce paperwork.
Conclusion
I did not share this story to attack my husband or make him look bad, and he knows it. To this day it still hurts to remember all this, and I still don’t completely understand why he acted the way he did. I think he was just at a point in his life where things were not working out and he felt like something needed to change, and he decided that it was his new marriage that needed to go.
It is so important for couples to remember that interfaith marriages suffer from all of the challenges and trials that normal marriages face in addition to the challenges brought on by the interfaith dimension. My marriage almost broke up because of things that could have happened in any marriage, but the interfaith aspect was the excuse my husband first used to initiate the divorce. People expect interfaith marriages to break up because two people of differing faiths can’t get along. For some reason, they seem to think we’re immune to stress and disagreement over things like jobs, bills, and cleaning up the house, but we’re not. I would say I’ve had far more arguments with my husband over him leaving the butter on the counter than I’ve ever had over how he interprets the Bible. So, if you’re heading down this path, watch out for that. Don’t blame your differing faiths for problems that have nothing to do with that.
Steve
swplan76@hotmail.com
Steve
Thank you for posting the link on Mormon Expression.
You’re right that people forget an interfaith marriage is going to have the same problems leading to divorce that shared faith marriages have. It’s easy to assume the religious differences are the cause.
I don’t know how I could feel secure again if my husband had done the same thing. My heart would have been broken. I’m looking forward to reading your other posts on this.
I was kind of shocked to hear him say that word in relation to our marriage, and even more that he thought I would have ever been the one to leave.