Can I Fall Back In Love?

[Anonymous]

https://www.thefp.com/p/tough-love-can-i-fall-back-in-love-marriage-parenting-divorce?utm_source=x

This seemed like it might be of interest here. Sorry I do not have a gift link?

[Anonymous]

I’m 40 and married with three kids ages 2, 4, and 6, and I’m not in love with my husband of eight years anymore. Or I should say that, sometimes, I get periods of grace where I fall in love with him again for a few days or weeks. But often, at least half the time, I’m just going through the motions when I say, “I love you,” or kiss him, or agree to have sex. I try and try. I really do. We’ve done couples therapy, I make lists of the things I’m grateful for about him, and I try to be loving and gracious even when I don’t feel loving and gracious. How long do I try? I don’t want to wreck my kids’ lives or his life or our financial future. Do I raise the kids to young adults and then reevaluate? Do I leave sooner so he/we have another chance at love? Is this just what long-term monogamy feels like? Any words of wisdom for me?

Sincerely,

Eleanor

[Anonymous]

Eleanor,
Allow me to dispense with a lie at the get-go—a lie you’ve been told all your life, starting in grade school by a well-meaning teacher: “There are no stupid questions.” Eleanor, there are stupid questions. Really, truly there are. All adults know it.
A question is stupid when answering it only leads us further from anything true, meaningful, or useful. When having an “answer” is unambiguously worse than not having one.
A paramedic who asks, “What’s this patient’s astrological sign?” before starting treatment is asking a stupid question because it’s not remotely germane. It lacks any salience at a critical moment. It leads him away from the truth.
I’m not insulting the question you have put to me, which is vital. I’m referring to the question you keep putting to yourself.
When the mother of a first grader, a preschooler, and a toddler looks at her husband and asks herself right then, “Am I still in love with him?” That is a stupid question.
You’re in no position to answer it right now. No position at all.
You’re in the thick of the messiest, and often most meaningful, part of life. Most days, you don’t feel particularly sexy. Many days, you look at your husband and all desire is buried under abject necessity for more help. You’d trade him for a nanny in a heartbeat.
That doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with him or your relationship—although you almost certainly need more time alone together (couples therapy doesn’t count). But right now any interesting stranger you meet will seem more exciting and dangerous and intriguing than your husband. This cycle, from sexy to familiar, would repeat once that interesting stranger became less interesting and less stranger. And so on and so forth. A life spent chasing shivers in a looping figure eight.

[Anonymous]

You and your husband are building a home, an entire world, for three small and completely dependent people. Rather than enjoying a stage that will vanish in an instant, you’re worrying that your butterflies are less intense than before.
You’re adopting two fashionable habits of mind, both counterproductive. The therapeutic mindset insists that we ask ourselves: “How does it make me feel?” The techno-consumerist mindset is perhaps sneakier, pressing us to ask, at every instant: “Is this making me happy?” without defining “happy.” Invariably, countless times a day, the answer, even to the best parts of our lives, will be “no.” That isn’t because there’s anything wrong with our relationships or jobs or friendships. It’s because that’s a fine thing to ask about a workout routine or Hulu subscription. Our more substantive commitments can’t shoulder the burden of all that neurotic temperature checking.
For at least a generation, we have openly lionized women who—always in search of finding themselves and feeling in love—make an astonishing hash of their personal lives. Women who walk out on their husbands and children, find lovers, dump them, find others, and invite disaster upon their families, often in the service of a gold-plated publishing contract and temporary celebrity.
Cathi Hanauer offered only the most recent exemplar in a New York Times column, which ran under the headline “The Case for Ending a Long, Mostly Good Marriage.” Same story, regifted as epiphany, a self-celebration of her and her husband’s decision to separate after 33 years. “I feel guilt about the children,” she writes. “But kids are happier when their parents are happy.”
Until I read the old, rancid chestnut, Kids are happier when their parents are happy, I had no idea the love gurus were still pushing it. (If your therapist advances this nonsense, terminate therapy.)
Kids want their parents to be happy, all things being equal. Ask any kid: “Would you rather be at Disneyland with happy parents or at Disneyland with unhappy parents?” That no-brainer tells you almost nothing. It’s a stupid question.
The only way to measure the actual value kids place on “parental happiness” is by observing what they’d be willing to trade for it.
Ask instead: “Would you prefer your mommy to live in a different house from you, with a series of boyfriends, each of which, for a time, make her happier than daddy does?” There is scarcely a child in the world who would assent.
We know it’s false that children place a high priority on their parents’ happiness because they routinely and deliberately make their parents unhappy to get what they want. If parental happiness were a priority for most kids, they would rarely whine or throw tantrums or misbehave. They do all these things because their parents’ fulfillment as individuals is not remotely important to them. Based on the best available research on outcomes for kids after divorce, it shouldn’t be.
Every single marriage has moments in which the individual participants would be more comfortable and less stressed if they were single. Every mother who has ever raised children would generally be more relaxed, better slept, and less frazzled if she didn’t have them. No culture that supported families would encourage people to routinely ask themselves, “Is this marriage still working for me?”
You’re not a consumer, vis-à-vis your family. Your family is not a Netflix series to be absorbed passively, slack-jawed, from the sofa—and judged.
You’re a creator. You built this family. You built this marriage. It’s up to you to fill it with love.
Your husband wasn’t assigned to you at random by a neckless bureaucrat. He’s the man you fell in love with and chose to marry and then chose to have three children with. The guy you asked always to be faithful to you. The man who helped you build this family, over the course of almost a decade.
He’s suffered the ordeal of couples counseling with you because he loves you and the kids that much. He’s listened to you opine in therapy about whether you can ever “feel in love” with him again. He’s seen you pull away, just perceptibly, with the kids, while you weigh your options. And he’s borne it all for you and for the kids.
You don’t feel grateful right now, but you should. Not only for your three healthy kids, whose world you’re thinking of busting up so you can go out hunting jitters. But also for the guy who’s held your hand through the madcap rigmarole of raising them.
And there he is, night after night, a solid presence in your home, anchoring his side of the mattress. He helps the kids in a million ways but also, immeasurably, by being present for their mother. He’s seen you through the birth of three kids. He’s of sufficient character that he isn’t seeking permission to walk out on you and the kids right now. Have some very enthusiastic sex with this good man. Start there. Fill your home with love.
Dear Eleanor, there is no going back—not for you, or anyone. You can’t just erase your kids or the years you spent in your marriage. You can’t disappear the man you married or the hurt and resentment and anger you would hand him if you left. And you will never feel like you’re 20 again because you’ll never be 20 again.
So many ideological scams threaten to cheat women out of the best of life—and the best years of their lives. You and your husband are just getting started. You think you know everything about him? You don’t. There are fights to have, and feelings to hurt, and chances to make up too. There is intensity, adventure, and renewal on the road ahead.
In the face of the dust cloud you’ve kicked up around your marriage, your husband has been loyal and resolute and unyielding. He hasn’t withdrawn from you or the children. Ask yourself: “What is a man like this, properly motivated by a loving wife, capable of?”
You think you know the answer, but really, you don’t. You’ll need to stick around to find out.
See, that’s a decent question.
Onward,
Abigail

[Anonymous]

Love is mental - that's on you. You can love if you choose. This "being" in love is immature. You love people you choose to love.

You shouldn't be building a life otgether if the partner is abusive, an adulterer or an addict.

[Anonymous]

Remnants of Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

[Anonymous]

Abigail isn’t wrong in this reply.

[Anonymous]

My kids are 11 and 13 and I’m just now finding my husband sexy again.

[Anonymous]

I don’t like advice columns but I liked Abigail’s response. Who is she? I’d give her another try.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:I don’t like advice columns but I liked Abigail’s response. Who is she? I’d give her another try.

You must have a longer attention span than I do. I can’t read walls of text.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:My kids are 11 and 13 and I’m just now finding my husband sexy again.

Mine are younger and I look forward to this. When they are a bit older we can "date" again, I can feel like someone other than Mom, hopefully we can get some of the romance back and that will lead to feeling sexy.

But divorce would just make everything worse. I think the response is mostly good, although perhaps a little overly lionizing the husband (i don't see "what is HE capable of?" as a good or relevant question, either, wtf?)

[Anonymous]

What happens when attraction is gone? Like if I know my husband is fine and takes care of himself almost daily but he cant function with me? I hurt him a few years ago and he’s never been the same since. I love him and want it to work but there’s no sex and he doesn’t even try anymore.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:My kids are 11 and 13 and I’m just now finding my husband sexy again.

Mine are younger and I look forward to this. When they are a bit older we can "date" again, I can feel like someone other than Mom, hopefully we can get some of the romance back and that will lead to feeling sexy.

But divorce would just make everything worse. I think the response is mostly good, although perhaps a little overly lionizing the husband (i don't see "what is HE capable of?" as a good or relevant question, either, wtf?)

I wondered about that but since Eleanor listed no complaints about the husband, I assumed he was probably a more than decent guy.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:You and your husband are building a home, an entire world, for three small and completely dependent people. Rather than enjoying a stage that will vanish in an instant, you’re worrying that your butterflies are less intense than before.
You’re adopting two fashionable habits of mind, both counterproductive. The therapeutic mindset insists that we ask ourselves: “How does it make me feel?” The techno-consumerist mindset is perhaps sneakier, pressing us to ask, at every instant: “Is this making me happy?” without defining “happy.” Invariably, countless times a day, the answer, even to the best parts of our lives, will be “no.” That isn’t because there’s anything wrong with our relationships or jobs or friendships. It’s because that’s a fine thing to ask about a workout routine or Hulu subscription. Our more substantive commitments can’t shoulder the burden of all that neurotic temperature checking.
For at least a generation, we have openly lionized women who—always in search of finding themselves and feeling in love—make an astonishing hash of their personal lives. Women who walk out on their husbands and children, find lovers, dump them, find others, and invite disaster upon their families, often in the service of a gold-plated publishing contract and temporary celebrity.
Cathi Hanauer offered only the most recent exemplar in a New York Times column, which ran under the headline “The Case for Ending a Long, Mostly Good Marriage.” Same story, regifted as epiphany, a self-celebration of her and her husband’s decision to separate after 33 years. “I feel guilt about the children,” she writes. “But kids are happier when their parents are happy.”
Until I read the old, rancid chestnut, Kids are happier when their parents are happy, I had no idea the love gurus were still pushing it. (If your therapist advances this nonsense, terminate therapy.)
Kids want their parents to be happy, all things being equal. Ask any kid: “Would you rather be at Disneyland with happy parents or at Disneyland with unhappy parents?” That no-brainer tells you almost nothing. It’s a stupid question.
The only way to measure the actual value kids place on “parental happiness” is by observing what they’d be willing to trade for it.
Ask instead: “Would you prefer your mommy to live in a different house from you, with a series of boyfriends, each of which, for a time, make her happier than daddy does?” There is scarcely a child in the world who would assent.
We know it’s false that children place a high priority on their parents’ happiness because they routinely and deliberately make their parents unhappy to get what they want. If parental happiness were a priority for most kids, they would rarely whine or throw tantrums or misbehave. They do all these things because their parents’ fulfillment as individuals is not remotely important to them. Based on the best available research on outcomes for kids after divorce, it shouldn’t be.
Every single marriage has moments in which the individual participants would be more comfortable and less stressed if they were single. Every mother who has ever raised children would generally be more relaxed, better slept, and less frazzled if she didn’t have them. No culture that supported families would encourage people to routinely ask themselves, “Is this marriage still working for me?”
You’re not a consumer, vis-à-vis your family. Your family is not a Netflix series to be absorbed passively, slack-jawed, from the sofa—and judged.
You’re a creator. You built this family. You built this marriage. It’s up to you to fill it with love.
Your husband wasn’t assigned to you at random by a neckless bureaucrat. He’s the man you fell in love with and chose to marry and then chose to have three children with. The guy you asked always to be faithful to you. The man who helped you build this family, over the course of almost a decade.
He’s suffered the ordeal of couples counseling with you because he loves you and the kids that much. He’s listened to you opine in therapy about whether you can ever “feel in love” with him again. He’s seen you pull away, just perceptibly, with the kids, while you weigh your options. And he’s borne it all for you and for the kids.
You don’t feel grateful right now, but you should. Not only for your three healthy kids, whose world you’re thinking of busting up so you can go out hunting jitters. But also for the guy who’s held your hand through the madcap rigmarole of raising them.
And there he is, night after night, a solid presence in your home, anchoring his side of the mattress. He helps the kids in a million ways but also, immeasurably, by being present for their mother. He’s seen you through the birth of three kids. He’s of sufficient character that he isn’t seeking permission to walk out on you and the kids right now. Have some very enthusiastic sex with this good man. Start there. Fill your home with love.
Dear Eleanor, there is no going back—not for you, or anyone. You can’t just erase your kids or the years you spent in your marriage. You can’t disappear the man you married or the hurt and resentment and anger you would hand him if you left. And you will never feel like you’re 20 again because you’ll never be 20 again.
So many ideological scams threaten to cheat women out of the best of life—and the best years of their lives. You and your husband are just getting started. You think you know everything about him? You don’t. There are fights to have, and feelings to hurt, and chances to make up too. There is intensity, adventure, and renewal on the road ahead.
In the face of the dust cloud you’ve kicked up around your marriage, your husband has been loyal and resolute and unyielding. He hasn’t withdrawn from you or the children. Ask yourself: “What is a man like this, properly motivated by a loving wife, capable of?”
You think you know the answer, but really, you don’t. You’ll need to stick around to find out.
See, that’s a decent question.
Onward,
Abigail

Meh. Sounds like Abby wants to give hubby a participation trophy just for showing up. Showing up isn't even the minimum after what her body has been through following 3 kids. Yes, the husband seems like a "good guy", but what does that have to do with attraction? Should she give up sexual desire for the rest of her life at age 40? If they divorce, the husband can still be there for the kids. The question is, what has he done to EARN her continuous attraction other than slapping a ring on it a decade ago?

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:Love is mental - that's on you. You can love if you choose. This "being" in love is immature. You love people you choose to love.

You shouldn't be building a life otgether if the partner is abusive, an adulterer or an addict.

+1