Growing up, I watched my parents work and fight for their marriage.
I always assumed that the bickering, the frustration and the hurt feelings were because they didn’t belong together and didn’t care for each other. While their relationship wasn’t perfect [who’s is?] it certainly wasn’t in the shambles that I always thought it was. After saying “I-Do” and taking vows myself, I realize that what my parents had, was real.
The hurt feelings…
They all make up a very real and a very honest marriage.
A marriage where one person has to walk on eggshells to keep from “hurting someone’s feelings” or pretend they are interested in something that they aren’t, isn’t a marriage…at least it isn’t in my opinion. My husband isn’t afraid to call me out when I’m nagging him over something insignificant. I’m not afraid to tell him when he’s acting like a butt-head [and yes, I’m a mature and grown adult who still calls my husband a butt-head…and a turd face, on really bad days].
It took me a long time to reach the point of comfort…even with my husband. I battled [and still do, occasionally] self esteem issues and loads and loads of self-doubt. Brought on being the “late bloomer” in my tweens, the one without a date to every dance in high school, and the one who never got taken to the movies by a guy when I was in college…ever—self esteem has always been my nemesis. Last year, from April to December, my husband was gone. I forced myself to grow up, move past my insecurities and rest in the fact that he chose me. We said vows in front of a lot of people, in front our families and our God that we both took very seriously. We set rules…that we would remain faithful—in ALL ways, supportive of one another’s goals and dreams, and never, EVER would we contemplate or consider divorce. We would work through things.
My husband and I both came back from our eight month separation as different people. I can’t really explain the differences, because they are small things, but they are there. We’ve had to make some adjustments. We’ve frustrated one another a lot in the past three months. There are things I’ve said that I’m not proud of. I’ve had to learn to depend on him again. After being a [pretty much] single parent for eight months, you learn to do it all on your own. I’ve had to step back and allow him to help me…allow him to be there for me. We’ve had to get used to being in the same bed again…which is an adjustment because, when I sleep alone, I sleep in the center of the bed with cover wrapped around me. I’ve had to start sharing again.
But you know what?
At the end of the day, when the sun goes down and everything in our house is quiet; there is still no one else in this world I’d rather be with. When he drives me bananas…when I nag him too much…we’d both rather be annoying one another than to be with anyone else.