Feeling Marriage Envy When You’re Married
By: Jennifer M. Wilson
Tags: Relationships, Marriage, Self Improvement, Love, Relationships Love Dating

There are dozens of studies (none of which I will cite here…I trust you know Google) demonstrating the link between social media and depression in teens. As a teen in the 90s, I can’t fathom what it is like to be a teenager today. I wore a blue shadow for fuck’s sakes. The only models I compared myself to were at best airbrushed for clear skin. Today, the average teenager looks at images of celebrities with plastic surgery. Not only is every image taken recorded forever online, but it also means those pictures include the pressure to overline lips to fake the look of Kylie Jenner’s lip injections. Girls today need to know about contouring and how to place highlighter in just the right spot for a perfect Instagram glow. Every day, these teenagers compare their real lives to an unrealistic standard seen online.

Do you know who else does that? (Raises hand from the back of the room.) Me.

I’m not aspiring for Chrissy Teigen and John Legend-level of marital success. My comparisons are restricted to my social network. Which, for better or worse, is quite populated.

I know. I know. All that glitters is not gold. All that appears perfect is not…uhh…perfect (I should stop the shitty analogies when I write). Everyone displays only the best of their lives on social media. I know when I see Tracy’s trip to Hawaii, I’m not seeing the children’s temper tantrums on the airplane. Or that Kelly’s date night with her husband ended with a fight before they got home.

On my social media, I make it a point to show as much honesty as I can. I’m more likely to show pictures of my children in hysterics than their posed, forced smiled ones. I’ll post pictures of the dishes piled high in the sink or the absolute disaster in my kids’ rooms. I’m not interested in soliciting envy from others for a life as a parent I don’t have. Frequently, others tell me they’re appreciative of my “real life” posts because of their authenticity and humor.

What I don’t show is anything about my marriage. On that topic, I also post the plastered smiles and lovey-dovey images. They’re few and far between, but I post them when I can. I don’t think we’re viewed as the Perfect Couple by any means, but I do think we portray ourselves as a solid union despite the madness of raising an autistic son, an overly-sensitive daughter, working full-time jobs, and having no family to help.

While conventional wisdom says we don’t see what happens behind closed doors, I see enough of my friends’ marriages in real life during gatherings and playdates to get an idea. Like when a husband immediately picks up something is wife dropped. Or when a wife gives a peck on the cheek while handing her husband a beer.

When a spouse tells a story and inadvertently compliments her in the process. Even if they only stand next to each other for minutes, it’s like they have an invisible bubble of unity around them. There are little nuances that tell whether a couple has a strong, loving relationship.

I understand signs of extreme abuse are well-hidden. In that case, the acting goes above my own level to appear like a happy, loving couple. I’d like to hope that in the population of all my friends, the number of friends experiencing that is little to none. So when I look at my friends that are in what seems like a happy marriage, I trust it’s relatively legit.

This leads me to my Marriage Envy. And social media doesn’t help. I had the vision of the happy home, the date nights, the picture in front of the new house kissing while holding the keys. My jealousy kicks in when I see them showing images of their (allegedly) strong relationships. Our Saturday nights were either spent fighting or collapsing in separate rooms in exhaustion from our children and the emotional drain of maintaining our marriage by a thread. After kids, the most dates my husband and I ever had in a single year was six. One of those was a work party, which I’m not quite sure counts as a romantic evening but I included it to make the number less depressing.

Over time, it made me sad. No other word. Just sad. It seemed unfair that despite all our efforts, we couldn’t achieve the marriage we wanted. Our bar wasn’t Romantic Chick Flick movie levels. It was much lower.

When the bar dropped so low that my marriage wasn’t a place of emotional safety, comfort, and peace, I knew I couldn’t endure it any longer. My childhood was spent in a house full of rage and yelling. Almost 20 years of my marriage were filled with rage and yelling. I can’t do another 20 years. I just can’t.