My spouse Alex and I were seated on opposite ends of an unusual leather couch a little more than ten years ago.
We saw a couple’s therapist for the first time, and their hourly fee was significantly higher than what we could afford.
Our whole purpose for being there was to bargain about my pay.
My husband, my brother-in-law, their mother, and I founded Faherty Brand, a clothing company, two years prior to this session.
As members of a family company, we all depended on each other’s skill sets: I had a law degree and taught mindfulness, Ninie, their mother, was an interior decorator, Mike was an expert in fashion design, and Alex had a background in finance.
I made a joke about how each of us only has a quarter of a brain, but if we work together, we might be able to solve problems.
The brand’s informal designs in sun-washed colours were and still are its hallmark. Faherty is frequently referred to as “clothing for life’s great moments.” Behind the scenes, though, I joked that “every day was Monday,” which meant that every day—even Saturday—felt like the beginning of a week full of unending issues.
Our finances had run out, we were unable to pay our rent, and every day we started a fire that needed to be extinguished—production setbacks, transparent board shorts, or poorly executed photo shoots, to mention only a few.
Docherty writes, “Every day, even Saturday, felt like the beginning of a week filled with an endless list of problems.”
The couple met with a couples therapist for the first time to discuss her pay.
Prior to founding Faherty, I worked as a lawyer with a strong commitment to social justice and human rights. Today, I manage social media, handle public relations, and organise events. As the head of HR, I hired employees and occasionally had to fire them.
In addition, I was the creative director of the photo session and the fit model, which my friends thought was amusing because I had no experience with the fashion industry.
Soon after, I took over all of our impact projects, coordinating the company’s objectives with our core beliefs.
The jury was still out when it came to the claim that working with your spouse can make or break the relationship. Even though Alex and I had only been married for two years, our union had already become a company, with our queen-size bed serving as our conference room.
Because he was the CEO, put in more hours, the brand was his dream, and he took on the most of the financial strain, Alex felt he should earn more money than I did. He was correct. “And besides,” Alex said to the therapist, “Kerry’s just not as committed.” However, if salary reflected value, Alex was reinforcing his idea that I meant less than he did, and this hurt.
It was accurate. I wasn’t as dedicated to the business or, to be honest, the marriage as I once was.
“And now you just do what you want,” Alex concluded his introductory remarks to Bruce.
I hesitated, attempting to determine if this was a compliment or an insult.
I remarked, “Why don’t you do what you want?” He replied, “Because I’m not selfish.”
The word hung in the atmosphere.
It was what he had said.
The letter S.
I wasn’t always like this. That is, selfish. However, something unsaid occurs when you are born a woman. To make sure you fit a specific mould, you start chipping away, just like a sculptor does with clay.
“I was a good, obedient, unsensual, competitive, high-achieving virgin when I started college,” Docherty writes.
Docherty was a lawyer who was enthusiastic about social justice and human rights prior to founding Faherty.
However, after she committed to the company, she worked as the head of HR, event coordinator, PR representative, and social media manager.
In a marriage, should personal aspirations ever take precedence over obligations to family or business?
It starts early, when well-meaning people make remarks about your beauty, your attire, your flexibility, your generosity, your kindness, your smile, and your capacity for giving. One day, when you look down, you discover that you’ve been twisted into a figure that doesn’t represent your actual self and is completely out of alignment with who you are.
You are practically unable to discover who you are.
I was the obedient, well-behaved middle child growing up. The cheerful, determined sister. I quickly and easily accumulated honours. Many universities strongly pursued me to play Division I lacrosse, and Yale University accepted me early. I was a good, obedient, unsensual, competitive, high-achieving virgin when I started college.
However, I eventually found that being selfless was no longer effective. I was exhausted. worn out. My libido was nonexistent. I was striving to fulfil the aspirations of my husband and his family while raising our two children, who are currently eight and ten years old.
What about mine, though? I had set aside my desire of being a writer for years. What would happen if I pursued my dream of writing a book?
I started a messy, years-long quest to put my own needs and wants first.
I began consistently saying “no” to his business proposals and social events that exhausted me and that I just didn’t want to attend.
I stopped preparing cooked meals for my children every (or most) night and ceased performing the usual domestic chores that were typically performed by women.
With musicians and artists who I proclaimed to be my new soulmates, I began building a whole existence apart from marriage and business.I even became involved in a dubious relationship that went beyond my marital vows with a touring artist.
My growing circle of pals prioritised their interests over duty.
I resumed writing after joining a writing collective. I began writing about my life, with all of my imperfections, messiness, dreams, and desires, since I had no idea how to write a novel.
I spent a week in Ireland before to the deadline for one of my manuscripts. I was so joyful that I nearly passed out while reading poetry by the fire, taking walks in the rain, and drinking Guinness while eating fish and chips.
I received a text message from Alex on my final day in Ireland. Back home, there were rumours that we were divorcing since people couldn’t believe a woman would dare to leave her husband and kids for a week in order to pursue her desires.
After finishing the book, Alex said he was terribly saddened while simultaneously expressing admiration for it.
He said, “Can you imagine if you had to read an entire book about what it was like to be married to you?” “It’s just crazy.”
I spent a week in Ireland. I was so joyful that I nearly passed out while reading poetry by the fire, taking a walk in the rain, and drinking Guinness while eating fish and chips.
Docherty and her husband are doing the best they’ve ever been, despite having some of their dirty laundry out in the world. “We split the domestic duties equally: I teach the kids about spirituality and gardening and my husband bakes them blueberry muffins on the weekends.”
For a brief while, I considered what might have happened if the roles had been reversed and I had to read his account of everything. It would be horrible, of course. The idea made my heart hurt with empathy.
Why would I divulge details of my life to the public that would upset my husband and his family? Why would I divulge aspects of my life that could lead to criticism? Do you not like me? Or accuse me of being immoral?
Because, in my opinion, being selfish is giving priority to the things that give us a sense of life, and following my goal of being a writer has given me that feeling once more.
Indeed, there have been repercussions for that. In the end, some people have been harmed by the book I authored. However, I think that sharing our passions with the world can also be an offering when we live in accordance with our deepest needs and goals.
My spouse and I are doing the best we’ve ever been, even if some of our dirty (and clean) laundry is out there.
Our spiritual, physical, and emotional closeness has grown in ways I never would have thought possible. We have a better sexual life. We know how to do repairs faster, therefore we don’t mind arguing.
We divide up the household chores equally: my spouse makes the kids blueberry muffins on the weekends while I teach them about spirituality and gardening.
He respects me for following my aspirations to become an author, and I respect him for doing the same to take Faherty into foreign markets.
He still refers to me as a “selfish wife” at times, and I refer to him as a “selfless husband,” but as a couple and as individuals, we are discovering what it means to share our truth and redefine what it means to feel most alive and to have a self.
edited passage from Kerry Docherty’s Selfish: Unlearning, Reclaiming, and Telling the Truth, which was released by Harmony, a Penguin Random House subsidiary.
