We even dealt with my fear of conflict and her so-called pushiness. We saw a marriage counselor, forgave one another, and rekindled a sense of closeness. We discovered that, despite our differences, we missed each other. Several times we went downstairs to the cafeteria to get coffee and talk.Īfter the crisis ended, my ex and I continued to talk. She survived, but for an agonizing seventy-two hours my ex-wife and I were camped out in the hospital where she was being treated.
Three years ago my five-year-old granddaughter became gravely ill. I’d just accuse her of being too pushy and break it off. My therapist told me I was “conflict avoidant”: whenever I met a strong woman, I wouldn’t stand up for myself.
We divorced, and I made new friends and tried dating, but my relationships never lasted more than a few months. We rarely argued or raised our voices, but we drifted apart. I married my college sweetheart in 1970, and we were together for twenty-eight years while raising a son, earning advanced degrees, and finding success in our careers.
