What if he never changes? What then?

How can you find peace in this even if he never changes?

Those were the words of a wise friend of mine, one who's overcome infidelity (mostly) which coincided with the death of her mother, creating a complicated grief, not unlike my own. We were talking about our husbands who, though they were born to different mothers on different continents, might has well be twins. 

We love our husbands. They are kind and funny, smart and caring. They are also highly anxious (though each denies this), somewhat controlling (though each denies this) and able to compartmentalize much of their childhood pain (though each used to deny this).

Consequently, we frequently share the same frustrations. "Why do they have to have opinions about everything?" we wonder. "Why do they get so wound up?" "Why do they stress so much about money?" And on and on.

My husband and I are in the process of building a new house long-distance (thanks COVID). This is setting off every single stressor in my husband's brain. And though I'm trying to not let my husband's anxiety become my anxiety, it's hard. A lifetime of trying to manage others' feelings is hard to shake. 

And so I said all this to my friend, including lamenting that, when we were in couples counselling (another thing that has had to bite the dust thanks to COVID), my husband was learning how to better manage his feelings. Now, it seems he's backsliding. "I just wish he was seeing someone who could help him manage this," I said.

To which my friend responded, "How can you find peace in this even if he never changes?"

I almost gasped. She continued, "This is what I kept saying to myself when we were first working through his infidelity." His affair had been emotional. He'd confessed to his therapist before it went further. But still, as we all know, cheating is cheating.

So while my friend was working through her own pain and trying to determine whether to stay or go, that was her guiding thought: "....even if he never changes." She wasn't referring to the behaviour, of course. She wasn't prepared to stay if he continued to cheat. Rather she was figuring out that, even if he never addressed his childhood pain, even if he never learned to managed his anxiety, even if he remained the tightly wound, often stressed and money-focussed guy he was (all things she could overlook when she believed him fiercely loyal to her), could she find peace enough to stay. 

It's a question that's as unique as each of us and our marriages. It's a question only we can answer. But it's a question that we must answer if we are to find that peace.

How can you find peace in this even if he never changes?

Perhaps you can't. Perhaps that's what will propel you out the door and into the office of a divorce lawyer. You can still love your husband and know that you cannot live with him if he can't or won't change.

But maybe you can find that peace. Maybe, like my friend, you can accept who he is and still find him worthy of your love and attention. Maybe, like me, you can stop hoping for some elusive day when he will have become what you want him to be and instead begin creating peace for yourself with him exactly as he is.

Isn't that what we all want? Not to be someone's improvement project but rather to be loved as we are? Aren't we more likely to create positive change for ourselves when we feel accepted as is?

How can you find peace even if he never changes?

It's a question worth asking.