Issue #248: I Had a ‘Perfect’ Life (Turns Out, That Was the Problem)

On making room for authentic happiness.

The thing that confounded friends (and pretty much everyone in my life) about my decision to end my marriage is that I was, at least on the surface, happy.

Back then, almost all of my free time was built around entertainment and enjoyment, organized around the question, What do we want to do? On weeknights, my husband and I would cook a new Alison Roman or Molly Baz recipe then eat it in front of the television, a habit we picked up during COVID. On weekends, we checked out new restaurants in Portland, and drank sour beers after hikes in the Columbia River Gorge, or traveled to boutique hotels in cities with new restaurants, new hikes, new beers.

Everything about our life together signaled that we had made it, so I couldn’t understand why I didn’t feel fulfilled in the way I had been promised.

It took years for me to admit this to myself—how could I have so much and still be unhappy? To feel so disconnected from the life I had built? The moment I acknowledged this, it was as if a knot came loose. My life and marriage unraveled faster than I could grab hold of the thread, and I was left with a new question, What is a happy life, if not this?

It’s only now, four summers later, that I can begin to see the answer.