Home > Marriage > Help & Healing > We Never Loved Each Other
We Never Loved Each Other
We never even really liked each other. How would our marriage last?
Cindy Wilson, as told to Simon Presland
 1 of 4
We never set out to be wrong for each other. When Pete* and I married, however, we couldn't have been more incompatible. We met at church. I found Pete attractive, and I admired his love for God. But I soon found that he could be loud and belligerent. I hated confrontation, so when Pete's anger flashed, I cringed, but said nothing.
Growing up, anger ruled my home. Dad harshly punished my siblings and me. I feared him, but learned to shut off my feelings. By focusing on others, I could bury my fears.
Pete's childhood had been just as painful. "I hated my parents for getting divorced and the countless relationships that followed," he said. "I was tossed between them, bounced into group homes, and dumped onto friends. I never felt loved."
In the ensuing months, I tried to help him work through his sorrow. But the closer I drew, the more attention he demanded. When I contemplated breaking up with him, I trembled at thoughts of his anger. After a year of dating, Pete asked me if I was happy. Finally, I found my way out. "No," I mumbled. He broke down in tears but finally let me go.
It's God's will?
About a month later, a friend phoned me. Pete had been telling people that we'd eventually marry. "It's God's will," he said.
I'd been taught that if I didn't follow God's plans, I'd end up in hell. Had Pete really heard from God? Would God punish me for not going back to him? Guilt, fear, and confusion plagued me.
The memory of Pete's eyes began to haunt me, and I berated myself for increasing his anguish. He needs me, I thought. Besides, maybe God wants us together. Finally, I called him and soon we started dating again. When his anger arose, I overlooked it. He's had a rough past, I told myself. I can help him.
Six months later, Pete proposed marriage. "Why not," I said. But while making plans for October nuptials my heart kept crying, You're making a mistake! Don't do this! I argued with myself: "If I marry him, I can help heal his wounds."
I never talked about my feelings and doubts to anyone. I didn't even seriously pray about them. I guess I just accepted that Pete had heard from God.
On our wedding night, reality sank in as I sobbed in the hotel bathroom. What have I done? I thought. I don't love him—I don't even like him!
I couldn't share my thoughts with Pete; they'd crush him. In the ensuing days of our honeymoon, my anguish turned into depression. During the daytime I masked my feelings by joking around, trying to have fun. I kept him out late; just thinking about sex nauseated me. When he became amorous, I said we'd have sex in the morning. When the sun arose, I jumped out of bed before he awoke. As the days dragged on, he started to sulk, then grew livid.
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