Two Years

It's been almost two years since I left my wife and an unhappy marriage in San Diego. I remember the moment I realized it was really over. It was just about two years ago, just before Christmas 2001.

We were living in Oceanside, California where I was the Center Director for a little English school based at a community college. It was a cute little campus on a hill overlooking the mighty Pacific. I loved going there everyday. The views were nothing less than spectacular.

It was a fresh start for Atsue and I with a new job in a new town. I was trying to be a part of the campus community as much as possible and for fun I joined the music department's chamber chorale. It was great fun to sing during my lunch hour a couple times a week. I was at least ten years older than any of the other singers so they looked up to me as something of an elder statesman.

Atsue was very reluctant to support my interest in singing (or anything else, for that matter) and the few times she did come to hear me sing, she did so begrudgingly. We'd had our problems for a long time, almost since the very beginning of our marriage, but I never wanted to give up. I always put a happy face on things and tried harder to please her, hoping that someday she would come around.

School was about to finish for the Christmas holidays. We had our final Christmas concert on campus, which was a beautiful dressy affair set in the dining room with a stage at one end. We also had dessert and coffee for the audience, who sat at tables which the choir had decorated. We spent the whole afternoon before the show dressing up the place with decorations and poinsettias. It was lovely. Atsue refused to come.

A few days later, she dealt me another disappointment by refusing to attend my school's holiday party. I had planned for weeks to make it a special occasion for our students and teachers. Our school was struggling terribly after 9/11 and I was doing anything possible to keep students happy and enrolled. I also knew I would have to lay off a few of my dear teachers after the end of the term so this was something of a farewell party as well.

I had organized the party as a pot-luck dinner in a banquet hall on campus and all of the host families were invited to attend. There was plenty of music, food, and fun. I had prepared my family's beloved broccoli-cheese casserole, which I make every Thanksgiving to much fanfare. However, since I knew I would be at school all day, I left the casserole in the oven ready to heat so that I could swing back home and pick up the hot dish and be back in time for the party. Our apartment was only 7 minutes away from school.

Preparations for the party kept me busy all day and I realized I wouldn't be able to go home in time to bring back the casserole. I called my wife and asked her to heat the casserole and bring it to the party. She balked. After much pleading and cajoling, she finally (angrily) agreed. However, she didn't want to have any contact with the students for some reason. It was weird. She had been in social situations with the students before and since most of them were Japanese, they got along fine. At least it seemed that way. I had encouraged her to make friends with them if possible since she had almost no social life to speak of and I thought having some Japanese camaraderie would be welcome to her. I was wrong.

The party had started and I had been waiting and waiting for her to show up with the casserole. I never saw her. Finally, I snuck out to call home and she was there. She had brought the casserole to school, but instead of bringing to the party, she left it to get cold in my office! After secretly dropping off the casserole where no one would know to find it, she hurried back home to avoid being seen. I was livid!

I went back to the party and entertained the guests, then stayed to clean up afterwards. It had been a very pleasant evening. Many host families came with their kids, and our students had a lot of fun as well.

When I got home, I was very upset with my wife for her childish and inconsiderate behavior and I proceeded to tell her so. She would have none of that, however, and she erupted into a furious and scathing tirade against me and my petty attempts to build a future for us and my pathetic ambitions to be a teacher and school director. She had attacked me many times before, but this was the most poisonous and malicious outburst ever. She was saying anything she could, no matter how outrageous or untrue, just to hurt me.

Certainly I was hurt, but more than anything I was stunned. I couldn't understand where her venom and animosity toward me was coming from. She offered no explanation. This was one of the few times that I had attempted to express my anger and displeasure to her, but she wouldn't allow that and instead exploded with anger at me.

It was at this moment that I had the unexpected sensation of becoming detached from my environment. Suddenly, I was standing outside myself and her slings and arrows had no effect on me. It was as if I were in a bubble that her assaults couldn't penetrate. I sat on the floor against the wall (we had no furniture) and just stared at her as she stood over me, furiously pacing and berating me. I looked deeply into her eyes -- no, into her soul -- and I saw very clearly that this was a person who had no love for me, who had no interest in knowing me or in supporting who I was as a human being. Not only was she uninterested in loving me, she was incapable of loving me, or perhaps anyone.

After three torturous years of living with a tyranical woman and doing everything I could to make the marriage work, I finally realized that it would never ever get any better. It was over. I knew in that moment that I had to get out of the relationship and when I surrendered to that realization, I felt an odd sense of peace. It wasn't a contented sort of peace, but it was the kind of peace you feel when you see the path before you and you know very clearly what you have to do to move down it.

The next few weeks were awkward and uncomfortable. Atsue had planned a trip to Japan for New Year's to visit her family. She would be gone for almost a month, returning in late January. Before that, though, there was Christmas with my family in Colorado. I had told them before we came that my marriage would be ending soon. I told Atsue too on our long drive to Denver, but she didn't really believe me. My darling family were just as warm and gracious as ever. We had a quiet Christmas, then I put her on the plan to Japan.

On the drive back to California, I was alone with my thoughts since Atsue had flown to Tokyo from Denver. Out on the road, in the empty wastelands of the American west, there's plenty of time to examine your life and think things through. I decided I was terribly unhappy with my job and with my living situation and I was resolved to change it immediately.

By the time I got back to Oceanside, I had already decided to quit my job and go back to school. When I got home, there was a notice on our door from the manager saying our rent would be increasing. Our six-month lease had expired and this shitty apartment with inconsistent hot water, bad plumbing, and noisy kids running around constantly was now going to cost over a thousand dollars a month. That was the last sign I needed. It was time to get out of Dodge.

The next day, I turned in my resignation letter to my boss and gave notice to the landlord that we would not renew our lease. When Atsue returned, she begged me to give her one more chance. She promised me that she would quit school and get a job to support me so I could go back to school. We found a delightful little apartment in a wonderful section of San Diego. I really liked being in SD and I was willing (but not optimistic) to give it one more try in yet another new setting.

Unsurprisingly, things broke down within a couple of weeks and I left. She didn't let me go easily, though. There was much screaming, crying, begging, pleading, and finally, clinging and dragging as she physically held on to me as I tried to walk out and she ended up chasing me to the parking lot and flinging herself against the car as I tried to drive away. That was a horrible, insane experience. It was like something out of a bad melodrama. I cried the entire way back to Los Angeles. I knew I could never go back.

It was so hard to end that relationship, the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. But I feel much stronger because of it. I don't ever want to go through that trauma again, but I know I could if I had to. It's been almost a year since the divorce was finalized and about a year and a half since I last saw her or had any contact with her. I have no idea where she is or what she's doing. And honestly, I don't much care.

Life is not any easier now than it was then, but at least I'm myself again. I feel so much happier and healthier, and stronger. Most importantly, I'm able to spend time with my friends, who really made my recovery possible. I don't know what I would do without them.

I've had a couple of short-term girlfriends since the end of my marriage. Nothing serious, but it has been fun. Will I ever marry again? Possibly, but I'm not in any hurry. I'm not really interested in dating even. I don't have to be in a relationship to feel good about myself. And I don't feel like compromising my identity in order to please someone else or to earn their approval. As conceited as it sounds, I'm contented to be single and to have my little social life and to enjoy being ME. Like Mr. Rogers always said, "I like you just the way you are!"