Emotionally Hungry

Sometimes, it's like you're starving. But you don't know you're starving because you've never really been hungry for more than a few hours at a time. And yet, emotional hunger is hunger too. 

It would hardly be worth mentioning if it only lasted for days, much less hours. But it can persist for years and quite insidiously, unrecognized!

All you know is that others are feasting, and you are not okay. But, not to worry. The ones you love most are there and will think of you when the feast is over. Rest assured, they will phone before they turn in and call it a night. 

You learn that waiting for calls to come after the feasting is especially bad for you, because you imagine the feasting the whole time you are waiting for the phone to ring, while you are so hungry yourself. So you give instructions that calling earlier is better, so sleep can come sooner - if one is lucky enough to sleep.

On a good day, you can answer. But you're quieter and more withdrawn than usual. You don't need to look at your knuckles to know. White-knuckling has been the best description of the whole damn thing for as long as you can remember, even though it doesn't actually describe anything at all. 

You muster some willpower, hoping it will be enough to pass for normal, as you recount honorable mentions from the day and press on your stomach to muffle the hunger pangs. Whatever it takes to patch through to the next day and the next, so it can be "over with," and you can recover. 

Settle back into some semblance of normalcy when all becomes familiar again. A normal work week is proof that no real harm was incurred. When the pit in your stomach subsides, you know all is well. Normal operations can resume. Crisis averted.

Recovery becomes a series of unsatisfactory conversations about better timing of phone calls, what information to give, how it never seems to be just right, trying to explain why you want to know about every-little-thing they ate, and what time would be better for a starving person to talk about a feast they aren't invited to? 

All of this, instead of penetrating the mystery of how one got so hungry in the first place or what one might need to feel less hungry and desperate as an uninvited guest...

But you take all of the responsibility for your brokenness and being disagreeable, and vow to work harder to sound normal on the phone and solve the problem of your hunger and reactivity, all while being completely unable to convey how much starving compounds this problem for you. 

Ironically, in your complicity, you feed the very idea that starves you: This is all your fault, and it shouldn't be this hard. 

You agree that it shouldn't. The solution seems simple enough, but not simple enough to be solved. Just simple enough to be repeated. For decades.

By some miracle, you and I found another person who had experienced and studied emotional hunger so thoroughly and knew it so intimately, that she forged a pathway through it to the other side. While she said many, many things, albeit few of the words here, this is what I heard:

Emotional hunger doesn't take an inordinate amount of food to be satiated. A consistent, dependable source, with even a modest amount of nourishment, is plenty to meet the need. Don't give up. Discover what you need, go to the source, and here is how...step-by-step. 

May God be with us as we hunger, learn, adapt, and persevere. Amen.

**This post is a reflection and dramatization of my lived experience relating to a profound need for emotional connection and struggle when that need is unmet, as well as the importance of communication, relational dynamics, attachment styles/wounds/core beliefs, and personal responsibility.

There is another side, and I am traveling to it. I am waiting on the little piece of paper (Licensed Professional Counselor - Associate) that makes me an official travel guide. It won't be long now. I hope and plan to take as many people as I am able to the other side - where needs are explored, known, met, and understood. If I can be of help to you, please let me know.

If you are interested in learning more about the "person who experienced and studied emotional hunger so thoroughly," it is my privilege to introduce you to Thais Gibson and her Personal Development School...an easy-to-approach (as well as digest) treatment on attachment styles, fears, needs and a pathway to healing, all borne out of her own suffering.

Personal Development | Attachment Styles | The Personal Development School

Chick Fil A-nniversary

Today is our 21st wedding anniversary. If our marriage wanted to publicly consume alcohol, it may legally do so now. And I think it may.

But not today. Today our marriage wants to celebrate by staying in and eating this. Pictured together, but eaten separately.

My husband of 21 years is sick with one of those bugs going around. But I dressed up for work just in case he was feeling better and wanted to go to dinner when I got home. He was willing but common sense prevailed. 

I gave him his gift in the plastic bag I brought it home in, changed into my sweats, and thought about what I would make of this anniversary with no flowers, dressing up, or dinner out. After shrugging off disappointment and completing a quick mental review of other disappointments (because we do that, don’t we?), I will tell you my conclusion is different than ever before. 

It’s different because yesterday my grief support group for spouses learned that one of our newest members took her life. She missed her husband so desperately and could not imagine living even one more day without him. She received ongoing and tireless love and support from our members: Phone calls, texts, visits at her house and theirs, lunches, dinners, and walks with people who have been there and are there—and yet we could not take away the one choice she chose.

Today, we grieve together and ask ourselves all of the same questions. What a comfort we receive in one another as we face the limits of our power but never, ever our love.

Marriage is not Hallmark movies and walks on the beach. At least not always or even most of the time.

Sometimes it is being left behind and losing yourself afterward. Sometimes it is weeks (months?) of ships-passing-in-the-night dotted by fleeting moments of profound connection. Sometimes it is caregiving or being disappointed. Sometimes it is splitting up so you can cart kids to different places at different times on different planets. Sometimes it is being grateful for Alzheimer’s disease because it gave you the opportunity to be together 24/7 for 15 years, along with the realization that without it you would still have been working (and apart). Sometimes it is years of living together followed by years of living alone. And sometimes it is eating chicken noodle soup by yourself from a cardboard bowl on your 21st anniversary. 

When you do life with married people who have been left behind by their spouse, you’re grateful for however you can get it. You know how profoundly interwoven two lives can become and you know how separation leaves every thread bare and aching. 

And because you know this, you can be content on a rainy anniversary—knowing that not grieving the one you love is gift enough. Except when you’re wishing for a little bit more, at which time you can remember he de-bones the chicken every time without being asked and a hundred other things just like it, because he loves you every day and not just on the special ones.

Don’t Let an Aisle Be an Ocean

Posting a little late due to travel, but I captured a few thoughts on New Year’s Eve for myself and anyone else who cares to read them…

It’s the last day of 2022.  I’m with the fam, heading to Steamboat Springs for our first family ski trip – Senior graduation/20^th anniversary/Because we’ve-been-talking-about-it-for-years ski trip.  We’re on the second flight of the day and I have fresh inspiration for 2023.  

We’re flying Southwest, so seats are catch as catch can.  I sat between my youngest, who called dibs on the window seat, and a man who was sitting across the aisle from his entire family.  

 

But, the aisle may as well have been an ocean.  His wife, across the aisle/ocean had a kindergartner on her left (by the window), an autistic son who kept hitting her on her right, and a newly-walking, very antsy toddler on her lap.  And this man literally got his book out (Letters from the Stoics) and put his headphones on.  

 

I learned the husband’s name fairly early on, but heard it more often than he did.  I even got to help her get his attention once…After he didn’t hear her saying his name or see her waving her arms.  But, he did put the book down after awhile.  To watch a movie on his phone.  

A couple of us offered to hold the little one, and she took the lady behind me up on it, when things just got to be too much. 

 

The edge in the woman’s voice would have made my ears bleed, but my heart was already bleeding from imagining the rest of her life – when she’s not vacationing (Ha!) She was doing it by herself, just like she said (when he seemed annoyed that things weren’t being handled better over there).  I was afraid the only departure from normal was us going on a ski trip.  

 

I read and I colored, wondering what I could do without a hot poker and a good dose of courage.  I did nothing, but smile at the Mom whenever I could catch her eye, and silently loathe her beloved. 

 

I thought about writing her a little note, too.  But, LEAVE HIM! isn’t exactly in line with my beliefs about marriage.  And HANG IN THERE didn’t seem very helpful.  And ENJOY IT, IT GOES QUICKLY downright ridiculous, and unbelievably insensitive.  Perhaps the most validating, but still unwritten… I SEE YOU.  YOU ARE JUSTIFIED IN YOUR FEELINGS. P.S. I’m going to be a marriage and family therapist in two years.  Call me if you can’t find anyone between now and then.

Well over halfway into the 2-hour flight, he came around, and offered to cross the aisle to help.  She eagerly accepted.  

Hallelujah.  Lord, have mercy.  Maybe I should have given him the benefit of the doubt.  He certainly provided a lot of timely inspiration for 2023…

 

Take your headphones off.  Hold a kid.  Make eye contact.  Be a partner and a friend.  Anticipate the needs of people you love.  Don’t make them beg or plead.  Look at your spouse and your kids- Many are wishing they could do that very thing.  If you can’t do your share, be appreciative of the one(s) who are.  Express your gratitude, and don’t let an aisle be an ocean.   

In the words of Thich Nhat Hanh, Don’t “miss your appointment with life.” Happy New Year!  Thank you for flying with Southwest.  

 

A Case For Marriage

Today is our 20th wedding anniversary.  Yes, we can believe it.  And no, we can’t believe it!  

Once upon a time, a ranch foreman who had given up on women and a horse trainer with a boyfriend back in Kansas, met on Valentine’s Day in the Hill Country…

“Your boyfriend let you come to Texas without a ring on your finger?!  Your boyfriend is a fool.”

We were engaged a month later and married eight months after that.  St. Isidore’s Catholic Church.  K-State campus.  November 9, 2002.  A fall wedding in Kansas is a bit of a gamble, but it was 70-something and sunny.  Because, why wouldn’t it be?  It was a game day and there were a lot of happy Wildcats honking and cheering us on as we crossed the threshold as husband and wife.

20 years later, we have three teenage boys, good jobs, and all we need.  I just finished my second class in my graduate program, and my husband has been unbelievably supportive.  Not only like not complaining when I’m holed up on the computer, or saying “You’ve got this!”, but also like…

Plate delivered, meat cut up, potato mashed and buttered with salt and pepper, and salad with just the right amount of the right kind of dressing.  I mean, freaking amazing.  

I could go on and on and on about all of the reasons I love my husband and why he is the best and why I am so glad I married him.  But, you might think your husband is better than mine and then we might have to fight, or you might think your husband is a loser compared to mine and then I would have to console you, so I’m going to switch tracks, because as much as I want to celebrate our 20 years, which I will, with him, tonight, I want to encourage you in your marriage, right now. 

Marriage is one of the best and hardest things there is.  I have talked to three different people this week who may or may not have used the “D” word, but are wondering if their marriages are going to survive, or if they’re going to die trying to make it work.  I’ve never forgotten what my married friends said, both having been married twice before…

“We could have made our first marriage work, if we had just known how much work marriage is.”  Yesterday, she lived through the date of his death for the fourth time.  It’s hard to call it an anniversary.  

I no longer have the privilege of celebrating an anniversary without thinking about a time when celebrating them might end, and dreading them might begin.  Grieving spouses are great teachers.  They help me believe in the depth of my husband’s love for me.

Two years after her death, a grieving husband told me on Monday, “I still look for her.”

“I know she’s not there, but I still look for her.”

This helps me to know that if I should die, I will not be dead to my husband.  Even after a long time.  It also reminds me that he is looking for me, now.  

And this is a really good thing to see and know and be reminded of.  Because sometimes my husband is bringing me a plate of bite-sized meat and buttered potatoes, and sometimes he’s gone for two weeks, and I feel like an acquaintance on a good day and a beggar on a bad one.  Please, sir, can you spare just a little bit of time?  Under the right circumstances, I can convince myself that I am destined for leftovers, and it’s embarrassingly easy to despair.

As much I would like to say this is old news, I just about blew it again this weekend.  More time away for him, a big paper due for me, and patience, charity, and anything that feels like love at all seems to fly right out the window.  We were supposed to overnight in San Antonio to watch a boy and a band march at the Alamodome and go for a hike the next day.  Storms were coming in, I was on the fence, and he didn’t want to spend the trip in silence, so…

So, after 20 years, I realized something.  I realized that I was withholding my love because in my wounded and selfish heart, I didn’t think he deserved it.  When I actually admitted this to myself, I was ashamed.  I was ashamed because that is not who I am.  I believe in giving my love to everyone, especially to those who don’t deserve it.  And he does deserve it.  Every bit of it. 

I assured him the weekend wouldn’t pass in silence.  We went, and had a wonderful time.  

I cringe at the thought that I almost bagged the whole thing.  Over seven miles, we walked and talked about the meaning of life and happiness and the two times in our 20 years of marriage I told him to go-fly-a-kite with fewer words and no kite.  He’s forgiven me, but he still remembers how many times it happened.  Twice…

I was reading a book about parenting teenagers yesterday because it’s so easy and I love reading about how easy it is.  (HA.Ha.ha)  Anyway, I came across this great quote.  I think it fits nicely here, as we own our mistakes, and let the good and bad all go together somehow, like they do…

One of the most widespread superstitions is that every man has his own special, definite qualities:  That a man is kind, cruel, wise, stupid, energetic, apathetic, etc.  Men are not like that…men are like rivers…every river narrows here, is more rapid there, here slower, there broader, now clear, now cold, now dull, now warm.  It is the same with men.  Every man carries in himself the germs of every human quality, and sometimes one manifests itself, sometimes another, and the man often becomes unlike himself, while still remaining the same man.      -Tolstoy

The only thing harder than living with someone in marriage, is living without them.  Yes, it is normal for it to be “this hard.” Keep fighting for what is worth fighting for.  Find the good and circle around it.  Forgive the rest and begin again.  

Happy 20th Anniversary to Us, and Love and Encouragement to all… 

Jealous of the Cat

Sometimes, I am jealous of the cat.  

Yes, it is embarrassing.  

The thing is, she is in my husband’s lap every time he sits down.  She looks at him and he pets her, and when no one is looking, they meow at each other.  (Only, we are looking and we laugh at them.)

I’ve come to realize when our time at home increases, the cat’s time with my husband is also sure to increase, but my time may or may not.  After all, she demands it, and feels no shame about being needy.  No shame at all.

But, I’m a quality-timer, too, and while I am content with the time I get with my husband most of time, I am not content all of the time.  And in those times, I am jealous of the cat.

Ever heard that open mouths are the ones who get fed?  Sometimes, like today, I care more about getting what I need than about my pride, so I open my mouth and admit I need a little time (and that I am jealous of the cat).  

Yes, I said it!  You might guess this would get at least an eyeroll or blow up and out as a ridiculous notion that didn’t warrant a compassionate response, but you would be wrong.  Or, you might guess that it would lead to a conversation about cat behavior, that I am not at all interested in, and you would be right.  But, even that is better than most any other possibility.  

My husband graciously and generously granted my wish (like a really handsome genie) and we walked, and talked.  By the time we were through, I realized that mainly, I don’t want our lives and the interactions they consist of, to be in passing.  

Boys need to build stuff, fix bikes, replace brakes on trucks, and go hunting and fishing.  They make it known and they get the time they need to do those things with their Dad.  Wives need…  Well, wives need none of those things.  Not this wife, anyway.

There is no existing hobby or project that leads to sitting on the driveway for an afternoon or in a hunting blind all weekend.  Not for this wife. There’s always plenty to do in and around the house, but those things have fallen comfortably into his and hers, and rarely the two shall meet.  

We’ve hiked, canoed, and golfed, and there are a lot of things we haven’t tried.  Of course, I can also sit idly by watching his projects, go hunting, or any number of things to gain time.  But, “it shouldn’t be so hard” lurks in the background and suggests that something is wrong with the arrangement.

Thankfully, I’ve seen a lot of hard situations in marriage and know that this is a lot of crap.  (Please, excuse the term.)  Imagine being the keeper of all of your spouse’s memories when they don’t even know your name.  “It shouldn’t be so hard” needs to be checked early and often.  Its insistence doesn’t make it true.  Just because something is natural or beautiful or noble, doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be hard. Breastfeeding, anyone?

In the end, I got what I needed with the walking and talking, and know that healthy relationships must undergo and remain open to negotiation.

As love matures, it also learns to “negotiate”.  Far from anything selfish or calculating, such negotiation is an exercise of mutual love, an interplay of give and take, for the good of the family.  At each new stage of married life, there is a need to sit down and renegotiate agreements, so that there will be no winners and losers, but rather two winners.” Pope Francis, Amoris Laetitia, The Joy of Love

Meow.

Marriage Counseling on Mondays

Today is our 19th wedding anniversary.  It would be easy just to post a pretty picture and congratulate ourselves on a marriage that keeps getting better and better, because it does.  But, it could not convey the gratitude I have for Monday meetings that hold my feet to the marriage fire (however uncomfortable that may be) nor let my marriage counselors know their message is out, and you’ve been invited in.

Today is our 19th wedding anniversary, and there is something you should know.  I meet regularly with 20 or so marriage counselors.  Every Monday.  All at the same time.  

I agree.  It’s a little unconventional.  

But, it works.  

My marriage counselors understand the blessing and the work required in marriage.  They understand keeping your vows in sickness and in health until “death do us part.”  They believe in a love stronger than death because they lived it, and they continue to live it.  Their spouses of 7, 38, 56, 60 years and all the years in between, left this earthly life without them.

They show up on Mondays to learn from each other, and I am there to learn from them.  They don’t talk at the same time, but they say the same thing.  

They share their undying love for their spouse and their horror as they observe husbands and wives taking each other for granted, being cool, dismissive, and unkind.  They want to shake us, or avoid us altogether because our ignorance hurts them so.  

Oh, what they would give for what we blindly throw away. 

Everyone in the room has lost their spouse, but me.  Yet, they let me sit at the table and ask questions, and pray, and learn. 

I pry.  No, they don’t ever remember being lonely in their marriage before their spouse died.  

Really?  

Yes, really.  Because their spouse was still there, they tell me.  Any loneliness they felt in marriage while their spouse was living was so pale in comparison to the loneliness of widowhood, it slips into non-existence.  All of the loneliness, little annoyances and irritations, hurts and disagreements slip into…

I wish we had room for silent observers, I tell them.  I wish other married people could sit where I sit, and see what I see, and hear what I hear.  Especially those who are coasting along, those who are troubled, and those who are ready to quit…The tired, fed-up, and unhappy.  

I also wish scarcity of time and abiding love weren’t so-darn-easy to doubt.  But, I’m a married woman staying up late to write while my husband sleeps in our bed, and I know that they are.  Only I have years of Mondays to remind me of the truth, and when I forget, Monday is never more than seven days away.

So, Happy 19th Anniversary to us!  It just keeps getting better and better.  Mondays (and all of the days) remind me of the treasure I have in my husband, the time we have, the life we share, the memories we’ve made and the pictures we’re lucky enough to keep taking.  Thank you to my husband whose love continues to mold me and to all who make sure I never forget.  

Wanted or Needed?

Today is my (our) 16th wedding anniversary.  Sweet 16!  Is somebody going to surprise us with a new car?!   Great, if you plan to make the payments.  If not, we're good with what we've got.   Thank you, though.

I'm grateful for a reason to celebrate today, as my heart is heavy after attending the funeral of a long- time friend and man I loved yesterday.  His wife is one of my dearest friends and one of the strongest people I know.  During the service, she got up to speak after I sang their wedding song.  I marvel at what she is made out of.

So, recognizing the profound loss of a spouse, and knowing many who are living with that reality, I am trying to feel celebratory because years of marriage don't come easy.

In marriage, there are things you have to "agree to disagree" on.  We have some, and they are pretty big things.

Like Need vs. Want, for example.

Early in our marriage, we lived in the country and I stayed home with our two boys who were less than a year apart.  My days were long and I couldn't wait until my husband got home.  On a bad day, even five extra minutes to change a lightbulb after work could send me into a tailspin.

It was probably after one of those days that I expressed my concern to my husband.  "I need you more than you need me."   He said that I was right.  He didn't need me.  He wanted me.  And that was better.

I think I'm still recovering.  But, over the years, I've considered and even defended his position.  I know that it is difficult to love when need is great, and even more so, when what you have to offer is never enough.  Who has energy left over to feel and/or be loving when you're wiped out from meeting demands?  I get it.

I just don't think need and want can be so easily separated.

I believe that humans have a basic need for other human beings.  We all know about the horrific studies of the children who had food and drink, but died without human touch. We need to love and be loved.  To see and be seen.  To understand and be understood.  We are interdependent.  My entire life has bathed in and revolved around this need, and I'm guessing yours has, too.

So, I have a hard time believing my marriage is the exception.  The place where need is cast out or transcended, and we've arrived at the more esteemed place - desire. 

But, if you define need as "necessary for survival", my husband is right.  He doesn't need me.  Unless we are talking about a child in its mother's womb, one person does not need another person to survive.  Even caretakers providing life-sustaining care can be replaced by others with the same skill set.

It is halting for me to consider the possibility that while we do have need of other human beings, we don't actually have a need for a particular one.  I value relationship above all else and it feels like a betrayal to even write such a thing.

But, desire is a different thing altogether.

My husband defends this with everything that is in him.  We need water to survive, but it is our beverage of choice that we enjoy.  We have closets full of clothes that make it acceptable for us to be in society and to keep us warm, but we have our favorite sweatshirt.  He is my Pepsi and I am his camoflage pullover.

I am resistant and moved at the same time.  And so it goes.

This morning, I spent an hour ironing one shirt.  I might even have tried to touch it up after the boy put it on (it wasn't that hot and he was wearing an undershirt).  It's embarassing how pathetic I am at ironing.

I can get away with this, because my husband does it.  He was a Marine and they know how to iron.

He provides for our family, makes the coffee, teaches our boys how to shoot stuff, picks up after me (and never complains), and fixes everything.   I do most of the cooking, the bulk of the laundry, pay the bills, and take kids to doctor's appointments.

The rest of life is an ongoing negotiation.  Not like with hostages, but sort of.  Sometimes.

In sixteen years of marriage, we've learned that you can go to bed mad, and other than not sleeping well, you can still make a full recovery.  We've learned that whether we agree on who is needed or what is wanted, what gives life meaning, or what "bedtime" actually means, we can still have a lot of fun, and be glad we're doing life with someone who is so unlike our self.

Marriage must be the smallest and yet most profound celebration of "Unity in Diversity" there ever was, is, or shall be.

Happy Anniversary to us, and congratulations to all who still find a way to find a way to make it work.  To all who are missing your spouse, and wishing for nothing more than 10 more minutes or one more fight, my heart aches for you.  Thank you for the reminder that what is, will not always be.  It is good to keep that in mind.

Being Married on a Saturday Morning

I've been thinking about something and this Saturday morning has been the perfect crucible for my thoughts. 

I've had a lot of conversations lately with men and women who are grieving the loss of their spouse and with people who find it difficult to have their needs remotely met in the context of marriage.  In the case of the former, I hear the intensity of a husband's love for his wife, how he wished he would have appreciated her more, how a wife would give anything for five more minutes with her husband, and how many question the value of their own life without their spouse in it to give it meaning.

I find this incredibly poignant, beautiful, and heart-rending.  I can never hear too much about one person's love for another and I grieve with them. 

But, then I wake up in my own marriage on Saturday morning.

I don't see my husband in the mornings during the work week, because he's hitting the gym long before I care to be awake.  But, on Saturdays, we're both home, and I'm tricked into thinking that starting our day together in separate rooms means something.  That checking in with the outside world first thing, is an indication that everything else (including me) is the last thing. 

My mind swings back and forth between the reality of those who are grieving the loss of their person and sitting alone on my futon, feeling like we're getting it all wrong.  I start to feel resentful and pull away in this black-and-white-world-where-you-wish-you-had-five-more-minutes-with-the-one-you-love or you sleep walk through the next forty years. 

And I pray.  I pray that the Lord will illuminate the truths that I've forgotten and help me to see what I'm inclined to ignore.

And He answers. 

I remember that it would be impossible to live forward in time with the intensity of frustrated love, which belongs to the grieving.  That to buy more gifts, spend more time, appreciate every moment and opportunity to love sounds so wonderful, but is impossible to maintain. 

I remember that human beings have a certain capacity to love and give and invest in others.  This same capacity is largely influenced by hunger, sleep, intro and extroverted natures, schedules, time, emotional strain, and how long you have to keep it up.

The intensity of love in a marriage is often shrouded by the dailiness of it all.  Love looks like washing dishes and bringing the grill back in and going places you don't want to go and being awake when you'd rather be napping.  But, it's there.

We don't have to see something to know that it exists.  Ask any dog who lives in a yard with an invisible fence.   

Love is there and so often, it looks like beginning again.  Trusting again in that love which you cannot see and as often, cannot feel.  And it's worth everything you can throw at it, commit to it, or sacrifice on its altar. 

This time, in my case, it will look like an apology for being cold with no explanation and refusing kindness without gratitude, and maybe a blog post which encourages us to believe again in a love that we're tempted to doubt. 

The outstretched and enduring nature of our mission as married folks is daunting.  It is impossible to do it perfectly, but possible to do it well.  And part of doing it well is persevering...until death do us part.  And between now and then, taking advantage of what is, to feel fully that which you have to give, and giving it. 

 

 

In It To Win It

We made it!  

Today is our 15th wedding anniversary!  Where are the stickers and t-shirts?!  My runner friends call it swag.  Seriously, where can I find a 15.0 sticker?  I want one.

Not being a runner in the well-understood sense, I know marriage will be the longest race I will ever run.  I'm pretty sure it is a marathon on steroids.  You know the particulars of your own marriage and you know the particulars of mine, because I've shared them with the you.

I want to apologize if I have burdened you with the nuances of my emotional landscape.  As one who lives and works in the world of feelings and as a writer, it is my pleasure, privilege, and duty to attach words to things that can be difficult to explain and more difficult to admit.  The intention behind my transparency is always to instruct, encourage, accompany, and glorify God in the reality and dailiness of it all.   

Since writing last, I've heard from many people who are concerned for me and my marriage.  A sincere thank you.  You have been a great comfort and remind me of this...

2 Corinthians 1:3-5, "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.  For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort, too.

I would like to comfort you, as well.  Brett and I have been married for 15 years.  What feels fleeting is not.  What feels irreparable is not.  What feels like loss is gain.  This month in the deep, in the desert, in the woods, or whatever you want to call it, has produced more fruit for me (and hopefully, us) than years combined.  I know my husband and myself better now than ever before.

I am in awe of that.  When you're a human being and married, life always comes one day at a time.  It is easy to believe that everything we believe, feel, and understand comes gradually.  This is simply not true.  Things can change in an instant, and they do all of the time.  The drop of a name, an eyeroll, a hint of ingratitude or contempt, a new baby,  a terminal diagnosis, a death, an unexpected gift or word of praise.  You name it...

All of my writings have been "blessed and approved" by my husband.  I love this about him.  It takes enviable confidence and incredible trust to give blanket permission to  another person, who knows you better than anyone else, to disclose whatever seems relevant to the thought for the day.  He can do this because he knows "we" are not going anywhere.  And I can write freely about all of the ups and downs, devastations and joys, because I know "we" are not going anywhere, either.

In the past month, I've watched a young couple make their vows and start their life together.  I've stumbled  around somewhere in the middle of  winning, losing, surviving, and thriving.  I've met people in the "sickness" part of their promise, where their own need becomes exclusively that of meeting the needs of their other.  All other needs, which once held a place of high regard and importance for them are left behind, and they do not see anything heroic about this.  I've attended a grief group for my work, where a dozen women shared the trials of continuing to live after their spouse has died, and how burning a candle in their place at the table might be a comfort to them this Thanksgiving.

I realize flames of hope come in as many ways as people, places, and times.  I am grateful for the journey of being married, for my fearless husband, and all of the people who walk with us in the adventure called life.  My new favorite quote, as shared with me by a dear friend, reminds me of the goal of it all.  Intimacy.

"Intimacy requires a clear self, relentless self-focus, open communication, and a profound respect for differences."                                  -Harriet Lerner

In and Out of the Woods

My aunt sent me this great quote this morning. 

"Wear your heart on the page, and people will read to find out how you solved being alive."

-Gordon Lish

And that was just the push I needed to write from "the woods", since I am not out of them, yet.  As such, the stakes for writing (and everything else) feel a lot higher. 

If you've been traveling with me on this fear of abandonment stuff, you know the backstory.  If not, here it is on a bumper sticker.  There is some "trauma" from childhood that shows up in my adult life, specifically in marriage.  It is a fear reaction, and it is reflexive.  All I've been able to do is limp through it once it is triggered, and pray that I (and my husband) can recover before it happens again.

I put trauma in quotes, because I've never thought of my childhood as traumatic.  I have not been sexually or physically abused.  Emotionally and verbally, yes, but that is a late admission, as well.  The trauma I speak of, as best as my 40-year-old conscious brain can tell and a professional counselor can affirm, is experiencing an early divorce and 11 subsequent years of painful, tearful separations from my Dad whom I adored, after visiting him every weekend. 

This recurring pain was more than a 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, and 15-year-old could process.  So, the thoughts, beliefs, feelings, and physical reactions that went with the pain got "stuck" in my brain.  Twenty five years have passed and it is still there, largely unchanged.

There are diagnoses that name this very thing and physiological treatments for "moving" the stuff into a conscious place where it can be processed.  I am looking into that and will keep you posted.  This is a new and exciting revelation for me.

Since visiting a counselor twice by myself and once with my husband, I have written a pain narrative, realized I am 100% responsible for regulating my own emotions, explored restoration therapy, made a plan, and decided I would work on detachment as a part of that plan. 

I felt more sure of this after reading an excerpt from Deep Is the Hunger by Howard Thurman...

"The basis of one's inner togetherness, one's sense of inner authority, must never be at the mercy of factors in one's environment, however significant they may be.  Nothing from outside a man can destroy him until he opens the door and lets it in."

I've read much on this idea, and know there's some truth in it.  So, I thought I would try it.  I closed the door on my husband.  He is the trigger for the old stuff, so I reasoned that if I didn't let him in, I would be safe.  And it felt safe.  But, it also felt unfulfilling, sterile, and not sustainable. 

Today is my first day of being less attached to the idea of being fully detached.  It doesn't work. 

So, I'm back in the ring.  

Leaving is not an option, but thinking about it is a friend that I like to keep close.  She reminds me that I don't want to leave.  I want to love and be loved.  Know and be known.  Understand and be fully understood.  Patience and perseverance.  We celebrate our fifteenth wedding anniversary in less than a week.  The woods are home to many a lovely creature.  And, right now, I am one of them. 

           

Fear of Abandonment, Continued...

My second-to-last post about Fear of Abandonment was widely read (at least for my stuff), resonating strongly with many of you, and empowering a few.  So, I wanted to check in with you and update you on me.  If you're still standing in it, swimming in it, or sinking in it, I just wanted to let you know that you're not standing, swimming, or sinking alone.  'Cause I am, too.   

It's been a rough couple of weeks.  I could give you a thorough account of the few steps forward and the many steps back, but I want this to be fruitful for us, so I'm fastforwarding.  The latest development for me is a counseling appointment scheduled for next week.  First ever.  I am feeling excited, mad, hopeful, hopeless, and humbled about this.  

Recently, my husband recommended we "table" conversation on this issue.  It didn't feel great at the time, but since then I realized that "tabling" something can be progress.  The verb "table" means "to postpone the consderation of".  When two people are coming from two different places and speaking two different languages about a subject they disagree on, it is nigh impossible to feel like you're accomplishing anything, but insanity. 

In chess, I would call it a stalemate.  No winner.  New game.  If only.  

But, it's not chess.  It's my life and my marriage.  It feels like I'm standing inside the door of my heart and home, with my hand on the doorknob, and tennis shoes on my feet.  Despair is standing on the welcome mat on the other side, peering through the window, waiting to be invited in.  And I want to run.  

Physically, I hate running.  I abhor it.  But, emotionally, I feel like I could run forever. 

I just read "Understanding the Las Vegas Killer", and was intrigued when it said, "He once owned 27 residences in four states...".  And I realized he was a "runner", too.   If I actually ran when I wanted to run, and had money to buy actual places to run to, I shudder to think how disconnected I could be from life in one place and from the people who live there.  Blech.

This is why "tabling" is a good thing.  You can't table something, if you don't come back to discuss it.  It doesn't allow for one-way tickets.  It implies taking more time to work at something that isn't working.  

We love to say "Timing is everything."  If that is true, and I think it is mostly true, in that it is critically important, we need time.  A continuation of time.  Not five minutes, not two weeks, but as much time as it takes to get back to good.  And this is one of the many places my husband is better than I am.  He is good at being a grown-up, and being where he's supposed to be, and doing what he's supposed to do, while I'm listening to a broken record that no one else can hear, and wondering where can I run to?  

So, I think of all of the couples I've met who have been married over fifty years and how many of them say none of their married years could be described as easy.  And I think of one woman, in particular.  She was married to an alchoholic for sixty years.  When I asked her how many of those years she would consider good, she said, "The last ten."  Her husband finally stopped drinking when his grandchildren came on scene.  She and her children learned how to love him in those last ten years, which was a real blessing, because it meant they could miss him when he died.  And they do. 

So, in this case, and in mine, and maybe in yours, it is good that "Nothing stays the same." 

May God and time and change be with us, and may no one sell us a one-way ticket.  Amen.    

      

Giving Credit Where Credit Is Due

If you read my last post about buying your own boots to stay married at Christmastime, you'll be happy to know I got boots for Christmas. Ha!  And all of that fighting for nothing.  That alone is a reason to write.  But, there are more reasons than that.

I am usually quick to write when my husband and I have a run-in.  I process it here and share it with you, because those of us who are committed to staying married need the reality, camaraderie, and encouragement. He gives me his blessing to share and I give him the courtesy of a preview before publishing. That's pretty big of him.  I don't know how many husbands would be willing to do the same.

Now, we're a week into Christmas break and I've been sick for the last couple of days.  Not deathly sick, just the annoying kind.  Runny nose, cough, and the like.  He tended the brisket on the smoker all of Christmas day and has made breakfast every morning without complaint, taken all of the boys shooting (when I don't remember the last time he went alone), and took them fishing and out for dinner last night.    

If I had the chance to rate him on a husband/father 5-star scale, he would have five stars and that was before he made breakfast this morning and cleaned up afterward.  Beyond that, he spent all day replacing our water heater, welding pipes, replacing sheet rock and all.  It's 8:23pm and he just came inside, limping and with a little less arm hair.   .    

At no point did he complain or act put out that everybody else in the house was free to do whatever they pleased, while he was stuck doing his marathon project, which we were all going to benefit from.  He welcomed the boys' "help" and even managed to keep a game of "Pocket Tanks" going with one of them.  He ate his dinner leaning on the dryer in the cold garage.  It is on days like these, that I know my husband is a better person than I am.

I would have been a bear from start to finish, and that's if I knew how to do the job in the first place, which I don't.  This scenario replays all of the time, too, when it comes to replacing this and repairing that.  He sees things dripping, rusting, and breaking, and he knows that until he plugs, replaces, or fixes it, it will wait on him.  And he will think about it every day.

I will never have an all-day house or car repair project.  I have meals and laundry.  Oh, so daily, but never heavy, hard, really dirty, or dangerous.  If I can be honest, I would choose my lot over his, but that's just in theory, because I can't do his anyway.

So, here's to you, husband of mine!  Thank you for taking care of us and making it look easy.  Thank you for letting me write about you, and us, and ours.  I want to be like you when I grow up.    

Buy Your Own Boots: Staying Married at Christmastime

I'm just back from an hour-long walk in the rain.  Needed the exercise and to blow off some steam. My dog didn't even want to get out of the car to hit the trail.  That's a new one.  But, it was necessary, rain or not.

It was necessary because my husband and I had kabobs for lunch last Thursday.  I know, it's Sunday. It probably seems like a weird detail to include.  I wish it was.  But, the Thursday lunch is still relevant because we're just getting over it.

Lunch was going well enough, but then...

What do you want for Christmas?

Popular question this time of year.  I said that I actually considered the guitar lessons I'm taking to be my present, since I am so excited about them and they're expensive.

But, then you won't have anything to open on Christmas morning...

Ok, some earrings would be nice.  Or brown boots, like the black ones I'm wearing.  Or my favorite shoes in brown.  Or a new guitar...

But, how would he know what kind of boots I like?  Size?  Color?  Style?  Fit?

Well, it's no different than anything else, unless I pick it out myself.  There's a chance I won't like it, and it can be exchanged.  I'm a size 10.

But, he doesn't want to get a gift that's likely to be exchanged...

Well, I'd rather spend a day shopping with you than have something to unwrap anyway...

But, the damage was done.  He thought I was being difficult and I thought he was being irrational. The cold good-bye kiss felt virtuous because I waited to leave until we were finished eating, when I wanted to walk out in the middle of the meal.  

So, the walk in the rain.  There were some puddles that engulfed the trail, which I was able to tiptoe around on the way out without submerging my foot completely.  But, not so on the way back.  Maybe I was a little tired, but certainly less careful, and the cold water filled my right shoe twice over.

As I walked on with my squishy shoe, I was thinking how easy enough it is not to have a squishy shoe (when was the last time you had one?) and how stepping in a puddle you are trying to avoid is like some moments in marriage.  You can see trouble coming, but try as you might, you can't avoid it. And then, you're in it.  All was well, then rainy, but manageable, then just soaking wet.  

As on time as it could be, a tree, twenty feet or so off the trail, broke off near the top and crashed to the ground.  Yep, I thought, in the throes of making marriage metaphors.  Another perfect example. Don't get enough of what you need some of the time, too much of what you don't need other times, and 20 years later, the top falls off and crashes to the ground.  Poor tree.  It just divorced the forest.

I was the only witness, but it did make a sound.  

Here's the thing.  We're not trees.  We have thresholds like they do, but they don't have feet like we do.  They can't move closer to the things they need or farther away from the things that bring them harm.   And even when we use our feet to step in it up to the ankle, we can still move.

Sometimes moving toward understanding is really loud.  Like a tree smashing to the ground.  Like this morning.  In trying to get back on the same page, voices were charged, and not just our own.  The boys, unaccustomed to such vigorous discussion, were yelling "Shut up!" from a bedroom.  This is not allowed in our home, but apparently they thought the rules had changed, at least momentarily. Although there was no change in the rules, what had changed was they were all in one bedroom, and not fighting.  Nothing like a common enemy to strengthen the bond of brotherhood.

I've been married for fourteen years.  I intend to stay married.  But, sometimes, we have to fight for it. We have to move toward what is important.  Because, we're not trees.  Because we can, and we must. Sometimes, it gets loud and requires a walk in the rain. But, it is always worth it.  Even if it means you buy your own boots and swamp them in a puddle every now and then.


May the God of endurance and encouragement 
grant you to think in harmony with one another, 
in keeping with Christ Jesus, 
that with one accord you may with one voice 
glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Romans 15:5-6

Practice Makes Perfect

Yesterday, my husband and I celebrated our 11th wedding anniversary.  He had to work in Austin, so I drove to meet him.  We spent 24 kid-free hours just being.  We ate, drove around his old stomping grounds, walked around what used to be Lake Travis, ate some more, and enjoyed the pauses in between.  We had grand visions of staying up late, listening to live music, and walking around downtown, but happily pursued Plan B of retiring early after filling our bellies at The County Line.  As we grow old together, we're learning that we're happiest when we don't have anywhere to be.

Our time together was much-needed and overdue.  We've been like two ships passing in the night for longer than anyone would recommend.  No surprise, really with work, little boys, and all of the other things that overtake our calendar.  But, the marriage fleet needs to dock once in a while, to remember why we're working together in the first place, dust off the vision, and re-energize about future voyages.

I think I could live off of this past 24-hours for another couple of weeks (but, please don't tell my husband).  If you've read the Five Love Languages, I'm a "quality timer", so my love tank is Full.  Ahhhhhhh.

On our way back home, I was thinking about love and marriage, and what that looks like when we get to Heaven.  Today's Gospel (Lk 20:27-38) says "those who are deemed worthy to attain to the coming age and to the resurrection of the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage.  They can no longer die, for they are like angels: and they are the children of God because they are ones who will rise."

I don't really like the way this sounds, because it seems like marriage only has temporary value.  Temporary value is well and good, but it seems like it falls dramatically short of what God intended and like we dreamed the idea up for ourselves.  A lifetime of monogamy and child-rearing?  Really?  This afternoon, I sat down with my head full of questions and uncertainty about reality and what's important in it.  I tried to journal, but only wrote one sentence and picked up The Fulfillment of All Desire by Ralph Martin, instead.  On page 57 it reads:

The union with and love of God that begin in this life and grow as the spiritual journey progresses will be gloriously manifested and perfected in heaven.  But so also will the union and love that we have had with one another in this life be gloriously manifested and perfected in heaven.  The Father tells Catherine (of Siena) that the particular relationships we had on earth, insofar as they were in the Lord, will actually increase in depth of intimacy and love in heaven.  Friendships and marriages that were lived in and with Jesus will be "saved" and indeed prove to be a love that is truly "forever".  The time for biological procreation will have come to an end-our bodies now transformed in glory, made ready for an eternity of celebration-but, the love, in Christ, that was built up in true Christian relationships will last forever.  We will not only know and recognize one another in heaven, but know and love each other even more!

That's better. 

So, we're not still "married" in heaven, but the love is still there.  Our spouses and children don't suddenly become strangers.  Thank goodness!  Can you imagine?!  We love them even more, and everyone else besides.  Love is great here, but it is not perfect.  It is perfected in heaven.  It is no wonder I can't understand it.  It is beyond me.  But, that's why I'm here.  And that's probably why you're here, too.  We're here to practice loving.  Because practice makes perfect.

Dear Heavenly Father,  Thank you for my husband of 11 years and for the first day of our 12th year of marriage.  Thank you for time away to remember why we got married in the first place.  Thank you for the blessings of our children and the protection you offer a wife and mother, by the very nature of her life.  Please bless all who are married.  Purify and perfect our love.  Give us the grace to put ourselves second, so that we may imitate Your Son, who asked "What is the most I can do to prove My love?"  Thank You for All.  I Love You.  Amen.

Living In the Kitchen

My niece moved here a few weeks ago.  She sleeps at my mother-in-law's house (2 doors down), but spends a lot of her time here.  She's learning what life looks like at the Dixon residence.  As she walked in last night, she said, "Every time I come over here, you are standing in the kitchen."  I agreed, and we sat down to dinner.  After dinner, I was back in the kitchen, and she asked on her way out, "Is your life fulfilling?"

I said "Yes" (after making a mental note of the magnitude of this question, and the cynicism dripping from her voice), rattled off something about how important it is, and then toyed with her question through the night and most of today.

Do I find my life to be fulfilling?

What is fulfilling about "living" in the kitchen?   Preparing and cleaning up after meals three times a day, 341 (365 -24 if you eat out twice a month) days of the year.  1023 times if you're really into Math...There are definitely other areas of my life that don't involve the kitchen, but it really is the biggest part of what I do.  Biggest in terms of time, and biggest in terms of mental energy!

Some people might find it fulfilling because they're really good at it, or maybe it is a form of artistic expression for them.  Others may love it, simply because they love food.

Three strikes, here.  I don't find "living" in the kitchen to be fulfilling for any of these reasons.

As time has passed, I have come to realize it is necessary for people to eat.  It is one of the few legitimate activities we engage in, as human beings.  If left to my own devices, I would graze throughout the day (almonds, cheese, apples, etc...), and quite possibly, never so much as warm something up.  Needless to say, I  LOVE eating out because it takes me out of the whole eating process!!  One of God's greatest gifts, really.  I digress...

Back to finding fulfillment in the very-necessary, food preparation responsibilities that come with being a wife and mother:

I think the highest calling in this life (and therefore, the most fulfilling) is to love our neighbor for love of God.  The people God has entrusted to me are my most important neighbors.  When I cook and clean for them, or whatever else I do to meet/ exceed their needs, I am engaged in the most important activity on the face of the earth.  Further proof that these actions are approved by God, is that they demand humility!  Most often, the only reward I receive for my efforts (besides generous praise and gratitude from my husband) are words of disapproval regarding the menu, or complaints about how long it took to put it on the table. 

There are so many things we can do in this life.  Many look fulfilling, but are not.  And just as many look unfulfilling, but are.

So, yes, my life is fulfilling.  But, that does not mean it is always comfortable or without its doubts.

Just today, I had to have an "affirmation" lunch with my husband because I'm back to feeling like I can't please anyone for very long, which always makes me think I must be doing something wrong.  However, he assured me that the fruits of my labor are to come.  In the future.  The very distant future.  At the end of our meal, he handed me a fortune cookie, and jokingly said, "Maybe your answer is in here."  It read, "Ships are safe in the harbor, but that's not what they are built for." 

My I-can-relate-anything-to-anything interpretation of that was "We can't use comfort as a sign that we are doing what we were made to do".  A ship isn't battered by waves until it is doing its job.  Just because I lack the comfort of being surrounded by people who are happy and grateful all the time, doesn't mean I'm not doing what I'm supposed to be doing.  I am.   Therefore, I am fulfilled.  Fulfillment is only possible when you know you are "the-best-version-of-yourself" and doing what you were made to do.

Yes, my life is fulfilling.  And, I am tremendously grateful to my niece for asking the question to begin with.

Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you for Dallas and her question.  Thank you for having such confidence in me that you continue to place people in my life to love and serve.  Please forgive me when I stop communicating the joy that always comes with doing Your will.  Thank you for my husband, his words of encouragement, and his belief in me.  Thank for a kitchen to work in, and a home to welcome and love those You send.  Please remain with me and all of those who struggle with their vocation, especially when it appears to be of little value to the world!  Thank you for pithy little statements in the middle of a cookie.  Thank you for all.  I love You.  Amen.

Valentine's Day - The Un-Hallmark Version

I am looking forward to dinner and a date with my husband tonight.  Today is (should be) special for all couples, but it is especially special for us because it is the anniversary of the day we met.  Yes, I believe in Providence. 

I am thankful for the 3 years that have passed since this journal entry that make sharing this once painful day, a joy and a part of history.

February 14, 2010 – Valentine’s Day

Sunday 1:47pm 

I just put the boys down for a nap and I need to sort a few things out in my head, so here goes…  This morning, I gave Brett a book, a card, and some chocolates for V-Day.  He didn’t want to open it until he came back from San Antonio (which he was leaving for today), so we could have a mutual gift exchange.  I wasn’t expecting a gift, but I wasn’t expecting nothing, either.  He said instead of going out and getting me something yesterday, he thought it was more important that he come home, so I could leave and have some time to myself.  After a little disappointment, I started thinking about what was bothering me the most, and it was that he didn’t admit that he just didn’t make the effort.  After all, he is a logistics man and the day before Valentine’s Day isn’t the only day to come up with something…my favorite thing in the whole world is a handwritten note from him (and he knows this). 

If he had given it very much thought at all – he could have given me what I value most.  Even if he had put it off until this morning, he was up almost 2 hours before me.  The way I see it is that it just wasn’t important to him this year.  I can deal with that better than him not admitting it.  So, after wrestling with letting it go, or letting him know, I called him.  He was quick to point out that he took Friday off and had to work an extra long/hard day on Thursday to do so.  Furthermore, he gets very little time to himself (one Saturday a month since November for shooting - He didn’t mention his lunch breaks and the opportunity to work out).  

Then, he told me he had some things to get off of his chest, too.  He thinks I’ve been pretty self-absorbed lately and listed the following:  going to Lauren’s (one Friday night for a few hours), time practicing music with Tomas, my rugs, and going to have coffee with Becca.  This is almost the entire list of things I do, which are not taking care of my children or house.  The only thing that is missing is the occasional hour at Lick Creek Park to walk the dog.  I think it is of note that my music practice and coffee with Becca are all after the kids are in bed (or on their way), and this is not an accident.  I don’t think he is self-absorbed for wanting to go shooting (even 3 times a month – it just gets too expensive).  So this leaves me with the question, “Am I self-absorbed?” 

Probably so.  Day in and day out, I wrestle with wanting some time alone, doing my own thing.  I try to give my kids as much of me as I can without being resentful.  When I start to feel resentful, the only thing I know to do, is to try to put something back in my own cup – by working on rugs, going for a walk, or playing music.  Mother Teresa says any time we have lost our peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.  I think it is true (but often forget) that my time belongs to my children as much as it belongs to me.  It is a constant battle to put that into practice.  However, I don’t think that because Brett has to watch the kids from time to time - to accommodate me - makes me self-absorbed. 

I would love a quiet evening in a hotel room.  I haven’t been ALONE (without Brett or the kids) for more than 24 hours at one time since Brayton was born (in 5 years).  He has been deployed multiple times since our marriage, gone on many work trips, has had the house to himself on at least 2 different occasions when I’ve taken the kids to KS, and is getting ready to have the house to himself for a week.  He gets time for reflection and to gain perspective on things at home, even when he’s not doing “his own thing”.  Being away helps you appreciate things at home and to love your family better.  I have not “been away.”  I know I could do better and be better, but there are times I feel like I am totally losing myself, and since I can’t leave (for more than a couple of hours), I turn inward.   

I’m not sure where to go from here…I’m a solution-oriented person, but I feel like only half of the problem lies with me.  I can find ways to “be okay” with not getting more time to myself.  Time spent outside and little adventures with the boys feel like “my time”, too.  But, I don’t know how to handle the perception of being self-absorbed, when I do anything for myself.  All I do know, is that my life is not about me 90% of the time, as it shouldn’t be.  Our lives are supposed to be about other people, so my prayer is for this to come more easily with each passing day…that I will not lose my peace. (end)

Dear God of Love,  Thank you for Brett, the man you chose for me before I was knit in my mother's womb.  Thank you for ignorance of the day and hour I was going to meet him.  If I would have known, I would have been a nervous wreck, and he might have changed his mind!  Thank you for rich people who hired a girl like me and made it easy to move far away from home.  Thank you for the hilltop outside Mountain Home, TX, where our lives were changed forever.  Thank you that real love stories aren't confined to Hollywood.  Thank you for allowing us to meet You, through our spouse, in marriage.  Thank you for unconditional love.  Please be near to those today who have not experienced it.  If there is no one else, please let the love of a stranger break into their world, and hint at Your love for them.  You are an awesome, generous, and loving God.  I love You and I know You love me.  Amen. 

 

The Ebb and Flow of Marriage

I can easily write about motherhood, because my kids don't care to read what I write about them.  Writing about marriage is a little trickier because there's a husband to consider (and he knows when I've blogged because we're friends on Facebook) :).

But, I had coffee with a friend this morning and our recent (over the past week)marriage experience has been virtually the same, which confirmed something I already knew:  There is an ebb and flow phenomenon in marriage.  Sometimes you're "clicking" like there's no tomorrow and at others, well, you're not. 

I think it's worth writing about because we were extremely surprised that the other's experience so closely mirrored our own.  If we know that the ebb and flow is normal (in theory and in reality), and consequently experienced by most married couples, my hope is that the isolation and temptation to panic during the "ebb" times will be diminished...

A week ago today, my husband took the day off so we could spend the day together Christmas shopping (in lieu of exchanging gifts on Christmas morning).  The day was awesome and I felt like we were newlyweds in a town far away (except for going to his work Christmas luncheon and being at Post Oak Mall). 

All this to say, that we had a "clicking" day just a week ago, but it feels a lot longer than that. 

When a feeling was there, they felt as if it would never go; when it was gone, they felt as if it had never been; when it returned, they felt as if it had never gone."
-George MacDonald

There are simply times when I feel uninteresting to my husband.  Not that there's any problem or conflict, just that "There's just not much going on," in his words.  During these times, I know he isn't mad, but wonder if he's dissatisfied and feel as though he just doesn't like me.

I know I can overthink these things, so two days ago, I asked him, "Are we okay?  I feel like you don't like me."  (I hope it didn't sound as pathetic as what it reads here).  He reassured me that all was well and spent all of yesterday asking lots of questions about my day and making overt gestures to make sure that I knew he "heard" what I was saying. 

I really hate to quote Sigmund Freud, but I think he's onto something here, "The need to be looked at with acceptance and the fear of being looked at with disapproval, or not being looked at at all, are two of the most powerful forces in our lives."

I think this explains why it can feel so devastating when we feel uninteresting, overlooked, or disapproved by anyone, but especially by our spouse - the person for whom we've peeled away every layer and exposed our unprotected essence. 

I don't really know where to go from here, except to say that knowledge is power.  I already feel better about my position during the "ebb", knowing that I'm not alone, that it's normal, and that it is short-lived.

My security always needs to come from my relationship with Christ, and that is my life's work.  Second to that, I need to make sure my husband knows I see him, am interested in who I see, and that I approve.  Because, that's the truth.  I suspect that if I do this well, the ebb will disappear into the flow, and I will be wondering if there ever was an ebb at all.

Dear Almighty God and Father, Thank you for the gift of marriage.  Thank you for my husband and his way of reflecting Your Love for me.  Please forgive my temptation to insecurity during the "ebb" times.  Your Love is supreme, help me to rest securely in that.  Please help me communicate my love and zeal for You above all, but also for him.  Please bless our marriage and all marriages, especially those whose who are on the brink of divorce or separation.  Help them to "see" their spouse with Your eyes, to let them know that it is good that they exist.  Amen.

Celebrating 10 Years of Marriage - Lessons Learned

Yesterday was my 10th wedding anniversary.  We celebrated with a delicious, fancy, and romantic dinner out and my husband blessed me with a beautiful bouquet of red roses midday.  Being the practical woman that I am, I would always rather save the money spent on a dozen roses, but it wasn't my call; I love the thoughtfulness and effort, and they sure look pretty on my atrium table. 

Brett has made me a better woman.  He has shown me what "showing up" no matter what looks like.  Through his steadfast example and God's grace, he has helped me overcome myself, my fear of alcohol, and fear of being left behind.  I've learned a lot in 10 years; some things were welcomed at the time, others not.

After reviewing my sporadic journaling for the past decade, I created a list of lessons learned.  This is, a soul laid bare, with the confidence that something of my experience will resonate with you, and that you will be edified.

 

Lessons Learned

 

December 6, 1998 - I need to learn to make myself happy and not rely on other people. 

 

June 2, 2001 - I’ve realized that alcohol is really a problem for me.  I have learned to tolerate it from my family, but, I don’t have to accept it in someone I am choosing to be with. 

 

June 6, 2002 - One of the greatest travesties in life, is working (and spending a large part of your life) doing something you do not enjoy and for which you are not appreciated!

~Married on November 9, 2002~ 

January 27, 2003 - Married life is different, in that, you start spending more time alone – even though you are together.  I’m still trying to get used to this phenomenon.  I don’t think I’ve ever been in a room with someone else (in my home) and not be interacting with them in some way, on some level.  The only times I remember anything similar is being with Mike W. and getting the silent treatment.  I guess that is partly why when I am mad, I get quiet, and assume the converse is true…when someone else gets quiet, they’re also mad…Oh, the things we have to unlearn… I’m learning more about myself all of the time.  Never before, have I had such a constant “mirror” if you will, held in front of me.  Another person’s attitude and responses resulting from my actions is, sometimes, a startling picture of the range of emotions that I can carry/experience in a very short amount of time.  I assume it has always been this way, the only difference being that I am not the only one I affect.  I have another half now to whom I am affected by and affect in return.  We are the sum of our experiences, as I was told today.  Nothing is going to change that.  Some days, that is a hard fact to live with.  Other days, it just is.

 

June 6, 2003 - I am continually amazed as I think back over my life about the times when a change has felt imminent or necessary, yet, seems impossible for logistical and financial reasons if nothing else.  And yet, the Lord continues to open the next door at the perfect time and after walking through it, everything just falls into place.

 

I’m sure this is the next normal phase in a relationship – the lustful, enamored stage has faded away and what’s left is what’s real.  I’m sure this is when some people feel like they are falling out of love.  In fact, I’ve brought that up, too.  In reality, I think love changes and as every married person I’ve known has said “It’s work.”  The little things crop up more and more frequently.  I guess the learning curve is still existent here.  I think that’s why people say the first year is the hardest.  It involves learning to live with someone (whom you are otherwise not related to), what their likes, dislikes, pet peeves, real anger triggers, modes of dealing with unpleasant things/feelings, and intolerances and learning these things about yourself at the same time.  Going to bed together rarely happens it seems and it doesn’t seem to matter.  I guess we’re learning to be independent of one another under the same roof.  This is altogether new and different, but probably for the best.  I miss feeling like I’m his world, but it could not last forever.  I feel as disconnected from him as I have been (except for the moments when I’ve felt distant from the entire world secondary to some perceived wrong).  I’m sure it is natural and probably healthy, but it is still an adjustment.  Time and prayer are my allies.

February 27, 2004 - It’s hard to leave yourself at someone else’s mercy, even if he is your unfailing husband.  I guess, much like everything else that is uncomfortable at the time we are experiencing it – is character building.

 

June 7, 2004 - I guess the point that needs to be realized if someone is asking (if you mind if they do such and such), they want to hear yes and in order to avoid conflict, a 100% yes is the only smooth road…Otherwise, I guess it is best to be true about feelings and if anyone feels slighted by the end results, it won’t be because your feelings weren’t known…“Above all else, to thine own self be true”, immediately comes to mind, but, I don’t think this philosophy has a place in Christian marriage:  sacrificing for one another, putting your spouse first, etc…

 

April 16, 2005 - I have a very strong primeval instinct about Brett being in the company of other women who are within 10 years or so, on either side of him; essentially breeding age, I guess.  I wonder if most women have this instinct, only to a lesser degree?  I don’t think most women are like me in this regard…  However, I know it is the thing I hate most about myself and do not admit to it easily – to myself, much less to others.  So, in the future, until this instinct dies (God willing), I am going to admit to myself what it is and admit it to Brett (he already knows anyway).

 

May 16, 2005 - It’s Monday and I’m wondering what I’m supposed to be doing.  The only thing I feel 100% certain of is that time spent with my son is time well-spent.  Not a moment is lost or untreasured.  If God were in the driver’s seat – Where would he be taking us?  What would he be doing in his free time?  I hardly think he would be reading a murder mystery and catching some rays.  What’s really important?  How can I have a whole day and not know what I am supposed to do?!  Our time here on earth is supposed to be spent getting ready to go to heaven…What am I supposed to do?  Spend the days with the lonely, poor, disadvantaged lot?  Where are they?  Who are they?  Am I supposed to study the Word all day long – looking for the answers to these questions?  God – Please let your will be done in my life…May I be your light in the world.  Please shine through me, Lord.  I Love You!  Fixing fences, mowing lawns, cleaning house…Are we wasting precious time?

 

August 5, 2005 – Friday Night 

I want to say how unspecial he makes me feel

My thoughts can be fleeting, but they still feel so real. 

I didn’t know that dullness

Could be sharper than a spear

Thank God for my baby and motherhood

To keep my heart in a working gear.

 

 

November 10th, 2012 - Dear God, Creator of earthly and eternal covenants, Thank you for the gift of marriage, and specifically, my husband.  Thank you for the times that my cup has overflowed with joy, contentment, attention, and a sense of all being right with the world.  Thank you, also, for the Friday night on August 5th, for all the times I ached for love, and times when I have been burdened with a sense of confusion or betrayal.  Thank you for the hurts and hard truths that harvest more fruit than anything that feels good at the time (specifically not being needed, but wanted).

 

Please help me be the wife that Brett needs, to encourage him to be the godly man that you envisioned, before you knit him in his mother's womb.  He has made me a better woman through his love and fidelity.  He, more than any other, helps me to believe in Your love for me.  Please bless him abundantly for his faithfulness and love.  Amen.