Uncomfortable “Stuff”

Year 2, Week 12: And the wall came crumbling down

The scariest part was not realizing how tall the wall was getting. The best part was realizing even the tallest walls can be knocked down.

The scariest part is realizing I didn’t even know when the wall started coming back. I say “coming back” because I know exactly when it came down the first time. You’d think it was a few months after we met, when I fell head over heels and sent my single card back to Cupid. It usually happens that way, right? You find The One, trust him with everything you own and live happily ever after. That’s the narrative we hear and believe, but it wasn’t the story I was living. No, my wall was still standing straight, tall and proud, right until a few weeks before our wedding.

I realized I had a choice to make – either continue to protect my heart like I had been doing (But what happens if he leaves!? I can’t afford to spend time picking up broken pieces! It’s better to keep the styrofoam or un-poppable bubble wrap tight around me for as long as I can) OR I can love the man with everything I have and make our marriage worth protecting.

And so with my decision to be open to whatever may come our way, my wall came tumbling down – and the results were better than I had imagined. Because I allowed myself to be completely vulnerable (which basically means you walk around with your underwear showing the whole time and trust the man not to give you a wedgie), I felt more love and more magic than if I had only let him visit me through the window that only opened between 7:30 and 7:45 every morning. If you want to visualize vulnerability a bit more romantically, it’s like giving him a shovel to the soul that is your garden where he can either sow fruit or wreak poisonous havoc. Thankfully, my guy likes apples.

In hindsight, I see the sign clearly marking the construction site for The Wall somewhere between “I’m the happiest wife ever” and “You want to go to Mexico for three months?” But, in the moment, the wall sprang up and the only way I recognized it was when I was surprised to find my old friends (disinterest and defensiveness) had returned. I found in myself…

…a lack of curiosity in things he found fascinating (why should I think it’s interesting if he’s just going to leave for Mexico?)

….muffled laughter and shy smiles (How in the world can he be so happy right now, when our relationship is about to be separated by hundreds of miles?) Yes, I know, the drama queen was alive and well; I’m not proud.

…spending way more time on things I enjoyed versus spending time at home (for distraction? So I could start getting used to spending time on my own, now that he’d be away?)

Long story short, the defense mechanisms were at high alert and ready to fire. I lost my sensitivity, my empathy and, most undesirably, my willingness to sacrifice.

This all led to an unhappy wife and a confused husband.

I reached out to an “unofficial” mentor of ours and he said very simply, “Dinner and communication. Talk at dinner. Turn off the TV and sit at the table together.” And so I threw myself into those little moments. This video helped nudge a small stone from the structure, hitting me squarely in the forehead so I would pay attention.

I would try and squeeze his hand back when it rested on my lap. I would look into his eyes when he was telling me something he found thought-provoking (apparently My Wall keeps eyes from connecting). I would stop to text him “Love you” in the middle of the day (I had stopped, I realized, to “train” for the days I wouldn’t be able to talk to him for days while he’d be away).

And, finally, I put down my own wants when he needed me this week. It was this last experience that shook the wall and struck the largest bricks down. By putting my own worries aside to help Cody (I didn’t get to relax on the couch but drove instead to retrieve him from a train station tucked deeper in the city than our nearest depot), I realized he hasn’t gone any where, and I cannot decide to stop being a receptive wife now just because I’m worried that I won’t know how to be a good wife from far away.

This last month has taught me a lot about myself and my marriage. If you’re still reading (and aren’t my husband or immediate family and friends), I commend you. There’s a lot of yucky stuff in here. But it’s all true. The crazy part is, I haven’t even shared the deepest roots of what we’re working through together. This is just the muck at the surface. Maybe our metaphorical microscope will reveal it in the future. But maybe it just doesn’t need to be. The wall is down for now, and I couldn’t be more relieved.

I love this photo because it's a capture of a Sunday that sees some papers to grade with time out buttons that magically appear after I write down some arbitrary grade that is supposed to rate the thoughts of a human being I am only beginning to know. I press the desk on my way to Cody's own work station on the floor, and nuzzle my head into his shoulder to remind him that his words are the ones I fell in love with first. — I love this photo because it’s a capture of a Sunday that sees some papers to grade with time out buttons that magically appear after I write down some arbitrary grade that is supposed to rate the thoughts of a human being I am only beginning to know. I press the desk on my way to Cody’s own work station on the floor, and nuzzle my head into his shoulder to remind him that his words are the ones I fell in love with first. Instagram @theaniassey

Year 2, Week 11: The dreaded Second Year returns

It’s official: The second year of a relationship is always the hardest.

I remember watching my friends fall hard and fast for a guy, be on cloud nine for a year, and then call asking for advice when things all-of-a-sudden started getting rocky.

I told them that this is normal (they breathed a sigh of relief), but then share my theory that whether they can make it through the second year will determine whether they make it in the long run (even if it was only 3-5 years, that’s successful according to today’s standards).

The second year is when things start to get serious and questions are asked – the honeymoon period is ending and reality becomes a – well – reality.

You start wondering if this is the One. And when things start to become difficult (as they do, in “reality”), we automatically jump to our conclusion: “Well, if he/she was really meant for me, then I wouldn’t feel like this, would I?”

This is toxic thinking and it ends relationships, over and over again. Love is not a feeling; it is a choice. And sometimes the choice is sacrifice, and that’s why love hurts. But I’m getting off topic and that’s just my opinion.

So I guess it shouldn’t have come as that big of a surprise that, when I had the theme of this week’s reflection come to mind, it threw me for a loop.

Who knew we’d have to go through another “second year” in marriage?

The excitement of the engagement, the emotional and logistical preparations for our marriage, the gorgeous memories from our wedding day, the honeymoon, and the exciting transition into building a home and routine together have become cursive words in a diary and photos hanging in our home.

The second year has brought up all the stuff we thought we knew, but have kind of let sit beneath the surface all this time, which is a surprise because I thought we had gone through all that “stuff” before we got married. That was always the goal anyway. The second year has brought up all the little things that we have forgotten could be endearing (like Cody’s incessant snapping and clapping, which he swears is not an expression of anxiety and impatience) and difficult truths that run deeper than dust (like my tendency to, for whatever reason, assume the worst of intentions from the man I should trust the most).

The second year has brought up ideas of beginning a family, but not knowing “when” we’ll be ready (Ha! Is anyone ever really ready and prepared for parenthood?). It’s brought up core differences in our philosophies: he’s a planner and has no problem playing chess with circumstances and the wheel of fortune. I, on the other hand, have no problem giving Jesus the wheel and whispering in submission, “Thy Will Be Done”. You’d think these two seemingly opposing world views would doom the relationship – and maybe this really would be enough cause for a couple to sign divorce papers –

but we’re not those people.

Our long distance journey was the climbing of a mountain. It was long, arduous, seemingly never-ending, but there were those trips where we finally got to see each other that allowed us to breathe and admire the view of our efforts. When the road got hard again, we at least had the memories of the last rest-stop that kept one foot climbing in front of the other for the continuing journey, as painful as it would become.

I’d like to say that our long-distance love has prepared us for this very moment in our marriage (and yes, it really is only a moment in the scheme of time). I believe long distance living helped us develop a kind of grit that keeps us going.

Grit. According to Wikipedia, it is a positive, non-cognitive trait based on an individual’s passion for a particular long-term goal or end state, coupled with a powerful motivation to achieve their respective objective.

So here’s a status report: We’re still on this beautiful mountain of ours, and the last couple years were admittedly gorgeous sights admired from a plateau. We had found really huge boulders to climb onto and just watch, hold hands, and “oo” and “ahh” at all the sights we got to see just because we made it so far.

But then it started to rain a little, as it does. We didn’t do anything wrong; in fact, if we want green pastures, we have to embrace the drizzle. The precipitation, however, has caused for some muddier trails and less clear paths. We’re still holding hands, but sometimes it feels like he has to go ahead of me and all that’s left to hold on to is his pinky finger. Other times, I want to take a different road than what he’s had planned in mind, and this causes a stand-in with frowns on our faces.

Until we can discuss a more strategic plan that compromises both our philosophies, we’ll just take baby steps. There may be shoes lost in the process, but his hand is more important to hold on to.

Gotta learn to dance in the rain, baby.

The rain didn't stop us from picture-posing in Colorado, so I don't see why it would stop us now. — The rain didn’t stop us from picture-posing in Colorado, so I don’t see why it would stop us now.

Year 2, Week 10: Never make assumptions

It was a fun week of swimming, hanging out with my parents, hosting a large party (that had awesome reviews – yay!), and finding our way onto a beach to read and relax. That’s what we did but it’s not what was really on my mind.

I’ll try to be clear, but it’s going to be vague, so prepare yourselves.

It’s official: it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, you will experience miscommunication.

My mistake was assuming that we had moved passed the capability of being in the midst of a conflict spurred on by one of us not understanding the other. Turns out that, when new experiences arise, new conversations have to be had, and if you and he have never been in a certain scenario before – and you don’t actually hold the other person’s worldview (as much as you’re proud of knowing as much as you know) – there will be miscommunication that grew from an assumption that somebody made.

If this doesn’t make sense, that’s okay. I didn’t really believe it until this last week – and it still boggles my mind. How did I misunderstand his intentions so much?

If it’s annoying you that I’m being so vague, that’s because this is how I felt all week: feeling my way around, following one interpretation until it turned out to be wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

Year 2, Week 8: I didn’t like my marriage this week

I didn’t like my marriage this week.

Now, keep in mind that I didn’t say anything akin to “I didn’t like being married this week” or “I didn’t like who I was married to this week.” No, I’m very clear when I say I didn’t like my marriage this week.

This week, my marriage felt stale. It felt too routine, like a sock that’s too stretched out and consequently abandoned in the back of the drawer. It felt forgotten about, like a bag of family-favorite nachos that someone forgot to seal. I’ve grown used to the feeling of a crunchy nacho when I’m in the presence of my partner, but this week I felt like there was something off. The chip didn’t crack when I bit into it. Dare I say I felt ignored, too? In fact, after Cody presented his idea of moving to Mexico for a couple months, I can’t help but admit that I felt second-best and second-choice – the cheaper cut of the meat. I wasn’t the gleaming learning opportunity just on the horizon or the soft sand beaches of wherever he would be going. No, I was the pouting wife who sort of hoped this whole plan would fall through. Am I a horrible person for thinking this way? Maybe. But I’d rather be honest.

This week made me understand why some couples don’t make it through the second year – and verified my belief that Cody and I will “make it” just fine.

This week, the lusty, I’m so in love with you feelings were not there. There was no honeymoon excitement or even an “I’m so glad I’m married” thought. No, this week, my marriage was dull.

But then we hung out with our niece and nephew on Saturday night and had a genuinely good time with them. We had breakfast with my parents before church on Sunday morning, and then we walked to the zoo with my other brother and his family. During all this quality time, I couldn’t help but notice how affectionate my husband was being and, over the course of the weekend, it was enough to remind me that I am definitely not second-best. This weekend, he held my hand and we talked about something other than monthly budgets, Roth IRAs, morning routine building, meal-planning, and financial independence. While we watched the Brookfield Zoo sea lions with Cody making jokes about the overweight seal sitting motionless as the other Geralds swam around, I realized things weren’t so bad. The super-in-love feelings weren’t gone for good, they just went dormant for a little while so that we could focus on other things. Although Cody may try to find ways to make his life better, I am the best thing. He made sure his quality time with me proved so.

This last week, I didn’t like my marriage, so I told my husband. Quality time and open communication patched that right up. Sometimes you have to talk about what’s bugging you if you ever hope to fix it. To make it better, you have to uncover the bandaid and let the wound breathe a little, even if it stings.

Now I’m here listing the things he does for me that often go unnoticed. When I start thinking I’m second-best, I realize it’s because I’m comparing the way he shows love with the ways somebody else might. So no, my husband doesn’t show love like everybody else.

Instead…

He does the dishes when I’m too tired after work.
He’ll take out the trash because his parents raised him to.
He’ll respond “Yes, ma’am?” when I call his name from across the room.
He’ll hold my hand when we’re fighting.
He opens his arms and clasps them around me when he sees I’ve had a long day.

He won’t celebrate Valentine’s Day, but he lets me have the last piece of Waffle House chicken.
He won’t buy me a card for the holidays, but he’ll buy me plane tickets to Hawaii to visit my best friend.
He won’t buy me a new dress and lay it on the bed, but he will bite his lip when I slip on his plaid long-sleeve.
He won’t announce on Facebook how much he loves me because it’s in the glint of his eye when I do or say something silly in front of his friends. It’s the kind of stuff I used to think made me “weird” or unlikeable. Turns out somebody loves the part of me I thought was undesirable.
He won’t post #wcw on one of my pictures, but he will put his hand on the small of my back and whisper, “You’re so beautiful.”
He won’t take me out to dinner every Friday, but he will light candles after putting a pizza in the oven.

I feel like I could go on, but I won’t. My point is, there are ways to make the chips crisp again. I didn’t like my marriage this last week, but I did choose love every day. And so did he. That’s why we’ll be just fine.

IMG_20160822_210909

Year 2, Week 7: Long distance… again?

This found poem, created by Austin Kleon, was my gift to Cody in honor of our first wedding anniversary. It’s nothing too fancy: a piece of paper housed in a simple black frame. This poem best describes my perception of marriage as a safety from never having to do long distance ever again (if you’re in the same bathroom, you’re not exactly counting down the days until the next time you get see each other!). In fact, one of my favorite things ever about marriage is the sense of security I feel when I realize my best friend won’t leave my side – he promised that much. And the man keeps his promises.

So what is this feeling I get when Cody walks in the house after a long day at work and, with a grin, tells me about his plan to apply for an opportunity that gets his blood flowing in all the right places? He can work for his current company and learn something new somewhere else.

Yes! Go for it, baby! I have no doubt they’ll see your value and accept you right on the spot. You’ve been waiting a while to have this feeling pulling you towards something so strongly. Embrace it.

Where are they located again? I asked. Sorry, I may have missed it when you said it earlier.

…Mexico?

Hm. Well.
I support you, no matter what. You know that.

But isn’t marriage not leaving?
I guess 2 months isn’t that long; military couples are apart for way longer. This could be so good for him!
I’ll be fine; I’ve been finding ways to entertain myself since 1992.

But I thought this long distance thing was done.
But I did get to travel in Spain for a month and then go to Montana on my own, too… He should have the same freedom!

Will we be apart for Thanksgiving? Or his birthday? Or my birthday?
Grr.
Obviously I need to let him go and be 150% supportive,
but it’s hard being supportive.

I thought marriage meant not leaving.
But two individuals following their passions is more important than two individuals squandering their desires simply to be standing in the same bathroom at the same time, flossing miserably.

I suppose he can watch me brush my teeth via Skype. It’s not like we haven’t done it before.

Guest Post: Ms. Sherry’s 2nd Year and Giving it Your All

My marriage would simply not be how it is if I hadn’t experienced and observed the fruits of loving marriages around me. I feel as if I could go on and on about which couples have affected me the most but, instead, I’ll choose one that has deeply affected my own psyche and approach to marriage.

Ms. Sherry works at my alma mater, an all-girls high school that guides teenage girls towards the empowerment of themselves through education while becoming compassionate leaders who speak the truth and build diverse community. A natural bi-product of this “become independent” “you don’t need no man” mentality unfortunately collided with my own desires to be in a co-dependent relationship one day. In fact, I seemed to take the warnings of “you’d be just fine if you were alone” to the opposite side of the spectrum that led me to believe that, besides the fear of failure, I was terribly afraid of losing my significant other one day.

I didn’t realize that it was this fear that kept a wall around my heart (ugh, cliches) for most of my relationship with Cody. You may wonder what exactly this means. Here’s an easy example that’s found its way into our marriage despite my “opening up”:

If Cody said ANYTHING that seemed to, in any way, threaten my independence, a fight would ensue (C: “Hey, let’s talk about a budget.” A: “NO. IT’S MY MONEY! My sophomore biology teacher warned us never to rely financially on a man!” C: “But it’s our budget with our money.” A: “No! IT’S MY hard-earned MONEY.” And so it would continue until I realized my ideals do not have to fight with his/our ideas of teamwork.) P.S. Now I know that as long as my own spending is in the budget we created together, he’s actually not preventing me from doing anything. Turns out fear makes us act weird. Go figure.

So I reasoned that, if I didn’t allow him to totally infiltrate my life, then if he were to someday “leave” (that’s what we call dying, because I trust that he wouldn’t just “leave” the relationship), I would still be able to function. I would be fine. My counselor told me so!

I wasn’t sure just how to reconcile the constant fear of dooming thoughts: “What if things are going so well now because he won’t be here tomorrow? Or after the birth of our first child, what if something horrible happens?” The thoughts wouldn’t go away – and it kept Cody a little farther away than I think I realized at the time.

And then, one day, I received the sad news that Ms. Sherry’s husband had “left.” She and her family (who are very close) were understandably devastated and they honored me with the request to play the piano and sing at his funeral. I saw past teachers, friends, and a familiar piano. I played my heart out and fought back the tears. This is my worst fear happening right in front of me, I thought. How in the world is a wife whose best friend just died, able to move on?

I was surprised by the immediate reaction to my own thoughts: “Of course she will move on just fine. She’s Ms. Sherry. She is kind, loving, and warm to everyone she meets. She will miss him – A LOT – but he did not make her her. She was already wonderful. He just helped bring that wonder out in her. She’ll just keep loving. It will hurt, but she will be okay.”

My confidence in Ms. Sherry’s character was enough to help convince me that allowing my future husband completely into my life is not just a choice – it is a necessity. How else can we be a complete team if I keep preparing for the day when he can’t show up to a game? To be a real team, we have to truly be together, from day one.

A few months later, as our wedding date was quickly approaching I made the necessary choice to try and knock down all the “I need to be as independent as possible just in case he leaves” walls that had been built. It was incredible how many there were (and how many we’re still trying to break down). Years and years of “Don’t let them get too close. You’re a strong woman, you don’t need anybody!” were piled up on each other.

It was scary, it left me vulnerable,but it opened me up to pure magic that I simply would not have had access to if I hadn’t scooped Cody up, dropped him where even I don’t want to go, and said, “HERE. All of it. Take it. I trust you. You’ll only make me better.” Then I paused and said, “And when you do ‘leave’ one day…”

“…You’ll be okay,” Cody responded with a smile.

Because she has deeply affected my own life, I asked Ms. Sherry to find a picture from her second year of marriage and write her own reflection. I’m so honored to share it here:

“Our 2nd year continued our love affair that lasted our entire marriage. Best friends, sweethearts, soul mates until the very end. The arrival of our first son 20 months after being married brought us closer than I thought possible. When/if you have been blessed to find the person of your dreams, hold on to them with every ounce of your heart and soul, even through the trying times. Marriage is not 50/50. It’s 80/80. You both have to give a little more.”

A memory from Sherry's second year of marriage. — A memory from Sherry’s second year of marriage.

Thank you, Ms. Webb!