I have a colleague from college, a black woman, who is extremely successful in her profession. She has been an innovator in her field, and some of the most newsworthy successes in her profession are due to her. After speaking to her a few months back after not having spoken for decades, we started catching up on each other's lives. She said that if she could give one piece of advice to young black professional women, it would be this:
Plan for marriage and children as meticulously as you plan your career.
My colleague is approaching fifty and she's single with no children. Mind you, she's not some tragic case wallowing in pity, but she just didn't envision that she wouldn't have married and had kids. Like many women in our generation, she thought that if she just put her effort into her career, all the other things she wanted -- marriage, children -- would simply fall into place. She thought the career part was the hardest part of one's life to get in order. Finding a suitable mate and producing kids, well, not so much.
Wrong.
Before you start creating visions in your mind of this woman, let me just say she's very pretty. She's also kind and well-spoken and funny. She'd be the perfect person to be a wife and mother.
Simply put, I think my generation of black women got it wrong when it comes to work/life balance. I know many black women from college who are single, and within that group are many who have not had children. I'm not saying that marriage and children are the holy grail for black professional women. What I'm saying is that if you even harbor a thought that those things are or might be important to you, you're going to have to make as much of an effort to achieve them as you make in achieving your career goals. Unlike what my colleague thought, achieving career success does not mean that love, marriage, and children will just, as she thought, "take care of themselves." They simply don't fall into place because you are a successful professional black woman.
I didn't value marriage and children during my early career years. In fact, I started devaluing marriage and family early on in life, starting with my own mom. I remember how my mother, She Who Is Exalted (SWIE), used to say that the one job she really wanted was to be a stay-at-home mom. I, riding high on feminism, Gloria Steinem, Shirley Chisholm, pre-teen hormones, and way too many choruses of Helen Reddy's "I Am Woman," informed my mother that she lacked ambition. Why would anyone want to be a stay-at-home mom, a job that my pre-teen self had decided required neither qualifications nor skill? I told my mom that if education was so important, as I was always told by her, why didn't SHE go back to school, get her high school diploma, go to college, and get a better job?
"Because I've got six kids to raise," she responded dryly.
My mother was a saint. Any other black pre-teen telling her mother that she "lacked ambition" would have had the taste slapped out of her mouth, or at least would have been in need of some orthodontic work.
What I saw from marriage and children as a child was constant struggle. I saw my mom and dad trying to pay the bills, keep us fed and clothed. I couldn't understand taking on so much responsibility when you didn't have to. From what I saw of my parents' marriage, a husband was just another human to feed and clothe. What was the point?
With age comes wisdom and discernment. I know now that there's a lot more to marriage and children than struggling to pay the bills. Maybe if I had realized this earlier in my career, I might have had some impetus to try harder at finding a mate and having kids earlier.
Anyway, I just thought I'd pass along my colleague's advice. If you even think you might want marriage and children in addition to your career, you're going to have to work at getting them.
And, quite frankly, I'd be more than happy to be a stay-at-home mom right about now.
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
All The Single Ladies: Wait for Your Boaz and Don't Settle
I can't take credit for this. One of my Facebook friends posted it, and she got it from someone else. However, I feel compelled to share it with all the single ladies who read my blog. If every mother would tell her daughter this, the world would be a better place:
For all you single ladies in a hurry to get married, here's a quick piece of Biblical advice: Ruth patiently waited for her mate Boaz. While waiting on YOUR Boaz, don't settle for ANY of his relatives: Brokeaz, Poaz, Lyinaz, Cheatinaz, Dumbaz, Cheapaz, Lockedupaz, Goodfornothinaz, Lazyaz, or Marriedaz, and especially his third cousin Beatinyoaz. Please, wait on your Boaz and make sure he respects Yoaz.
For all you single ladies in a hurry to get married, here's a quick piece of Biblical advice: Ruth patiently waited for her mate Boaz. While waiting on YOUR Boaz, don't settle for ANY of his relatives: Brokeaz, Poaz, Lyinaz, Cheatinaz, Dumbaz, Cheapaz, Lockedupaz, Goodfornothinaz, Lazyaz, or Marriedaz, and especially his third cousin Beatinyoaz. Please, wait on your Boaz and make sure he respects Yoaz.
Because I AM Shallow and Insecure
Let's start by saying I'm glad no Qu'rans were burned last week and I'm sad that people were. I hope that my former employer, Pacific Gas and Electric Company (which, in my father's view, was the best employer I ever had because both my boss and my secretary were black) makes it as right as it can for all those families affected.
That said, allow me a moment of shallowness. Okay, perhaps a day.
I don't normally check out my husband's Facebook page. Why? Because he normally doesn't. It's the Facebook equivalent of a vast wasteland. He doesn't check it very often, never posts, doesn't check messages. BMNB is not a social media kind of guy.
Well, at least I thought he wasn't. Come to find out, there are a couple of women he's "friended" on his FB page whom I don't know, one of whom is single and clearly lists one of her interests as "men."
Mind you, I try to be open-minded about a lot of things and more evolved than the men in my family. My father and brothers are of what I would call the "old-school" school of thought: Married women don't have single male friends. Single male friends are what you give up when you put on that ring, in their opinion. Growing up, I don't recall my mom ever having any male friends, single, married, gay or straight. None. My dad didn't believe in it.
Mind you, I do have single male friends, but the only ones my husband doesn't know are professional colleagues I've met along the way. Other than professional colleagues, he knows every man on my Facebook page.
Mind you, what torqued me more was that my husband does not have his relationship status listed as "married" on his Facebook page. You can see where he went to college, where he works, but his relationship status, no. This from a man who will not allow any man I've ever been intimate with to enter our home because, as he puts it, if they say something inappropriate about "the past," well, in his words, it's on and crackin'.
So, because I AM shallow and insecure, I Googled and Spokeo'd this woman who is my husband's Facebook friend whom I don't know, whose interests include men. I stopped short of ordering a full report on her from Spokeo. I wonder whether she knows my husband is married. She wouldn't know it from his Facebook page.
And I asked my husband to change his FB relationship status to "married." Fair is fair.
Because I AM shallow and insecure.
That said, allow me a moment of shallowness. Okay, perhaps a day.
I don't normally check out my husband's Facebook page. Why? Because he normally doesn't. It's the Facebook equivalent of a vast wasteland. He doesn't check it very often, never posts, doesn't check messages. BMNB is not a social media kind of guy.
Well, at least I thought he wasn't. Come to find out, there are a couple of women he's "friended" on his FB page whom I don't know, one of whom is single and clearly lists one of her interests as "men."
Mind you, I try to be open-minded about a lot of things and more evolved than the men in my family. My father and brothers are of what I would call the "old-school" school of thought: Married women don't have single male friends. Single male friends are what you give up when you put on that ring, in their opinion. Growing up, I don't recall my mom ever having any male friends, single, married, gay or straight. None. My dad didn't believe in it.
Mind you, I do have single male friends, but the only ones my husband doesn't know are professional colleagues I've met along the way. Other than professional colleagues, he knows every man on my Facebook page.
Mind you, what torqued me more was that my husband does not have his relationship status listed as "married" on his Facebook page. You can see where he went to college, where he works, but his relationship status, no. This from a man who will not allow any man I've ever been intimate with to enter our home because, as he puts it, if they say something inappropriate about "the past," well, in his words, it's on and crackin'.
So, because I AM shallow and insecure, I Googled and Spokeo'd this woman who is my husband's Facebook friend whom I don't know, whose interests include men. I stopped short of ordering a full report on her from Spokeo. I wonder whether she knows my husband is married. She wouldn't know it from his Facebook page.
And I asked my husband to change his FB relationship status to "married." Fair is fair.
Because I AM shallow and insecure.
There Will Be Threats
Yesterday I celebrated by seventh wedding anniversary. I was trying to think of what I’d learned in the year since my last anniversary, and it's this: There will be threats.
I’d always thought that the threats to my marriage would come from within: Infidelity, boredom, incompatibility, an attraction to Halle Berry (not mine), you name it. I never took seriously that there would be threats from outside of our marriage. Why would anybody want to wreck someone else’s marriage or wreak havoc within it?
Because they can. Or they think they can.
BMNB and I endured such a threat to the peace in our marriage since our last anniversary. Someone we’d invited into our home used our conversations and confidences and passed them along to someone else so that someone else could in turn manipulate us.
I felt used and betrayed. But a bought lesson is a learned lesson.
The sad thing is that now BMNB and I aren’t as open about having people, family or otherwise, in our lives and in our home. BMNB isn’t the most warm and welcoming guy to begin with, so if he has an inkling that you’re trying to be in our space to do us harm, you don’t get very far. I, who have always been the more friendly and chatty of us two, have become more closed off and aloof, too. Since this was a family member who caused us problems, I don’t extend myself to family members I’m not absolutely sure are in our corner. As far as I’m concerned, you’re either on our team – meaning you want our marriage to succeed – or you’re not, plain and simple. And people who aren’t on the team aren’t allowed in my life or in my home.
We’re also a lot more circumspect about the people we do let in our lives. BMNB doesn’t like nosy people who just want to come over to see how we’re living. I, on the other hand, can’t stand people who don’t have shit who want to come over and criticize what little we have. Between the two of us, we don’t do a lot of entertaining at home.
BMNB believes, moreso than do I, that for people you don’t trust, you create an “information vacuum.” If he doesn’t trust you, he won’t discuss his personal life with you in any way, shape or form. His feeling is that if you’re going to talk about him, you’re going to have to make stuff up because he’s not going to give you information to use.
And I’ve learned that there are a lot of unhappy people out there who take joy in stealing yours -- people who don’t work on their issues and instead want to inflict themselves and their issues on you. Shit stirrers. Those people are not my fault, and they’re not your fault, either. Unless you raised them, you didn’t cause their issues. I know I didn’t. And it’s not my job or yours to fix them. I’d always been more logical than intuitive on this point, believing that if someone caused me harm, I must have done something – intentionally or unintentionally – to elicit their response. I now appreciate that there are people out there who will go out of their way to wreak havoc in your relationship and your life for no reason related to anything you’ve said or done to them.
As we celebrated our seventh wedding anniversary, I marveled at the fact that, despite the outside threats to our marriage, it has endured. I don’t even fear Halle Berry anymore.
I’d always thought that the threats to my marriage would come from within: Infidelity, boredom, incompatibility, an attraction to Halle Berry (not mine), you name it. I never took seriously that there would be threats from outside of our marriage. Why would anybody want to wreck someone else’s marriage or wreak havoc within it?
Because they can. Or they think they can.
BMNB and I endured such a threat to the peace in our marriage since our last anniversary. Someone we’d invited into our home used our conversations and confidences and passed them along to someone else so that someone else could in turn manipulate us.
I felt used and betrayed. But a bought lesson is a learned lesson.
The sad thing is that now BMNB and I aren’t as open about having people, family or otherwise, in our lives and in our home. BMNB isn’t the most warm and welcoming guy to begin with, so if he has an inkling that you’re trying to be in our space to do us harm, you don’t get very far. I, who have always been the more friendly and chatty of us two, have become more closed off and aloof, too. Since this was a family member who caused us problems, I don’t extend myself to family members I’m not absolutely sure are in our corner. As far as I’m concerned, you’re either on our team – meaning you want our marriage to succeed – or you’re not, plain and simple. And people who aren’t on the team aren’t allowed in my life or in my home.
We’re also a lot more circumspect about the people we do let in our lives. BMNB doesn’t like nosy people who just want to come over to see how we’re living. I, on the other hand, can’t stand people who don’t have shit who want to come over and criticize what little we have. Between the two of us, we don’t do a lot of entertaining at home.
BMNB believes, moreso than do I, that for people you don’t trust, you create an “information vacuum.” If he doesn’t trust you, he won’t discuss his personal life with you in any way, shape or form. His feeling is that if you’re going to talk about him, you’re going to have to make stuff up because he’s not going to give you information to use.
And I’ve learned that there are a lot of unhappy people out there who take joy in stealing yours -- people who don’t work on their issues and instead want to inflict themselves and their issues on you. Shit stirrers. Those people are not my fault, and they’re not your fault, either. Unless you raised them, you didn’t cause their issues. I know I didn’t. And it’s not my job or yours to fix them. I’d always been more logical than intuitive on this point, believing that if someone caused me harm, I must have done something – intentionally or unintentionally – to elicit their response. I now appreciate that there are people out there who will go out of their way to wreak havoc in your relationship and your life for no reason related to anything you’ve said or done to them.
As we celebrated our seventh wedding anniversary, I marveled at the fact that, despite the outside threats to our marriage, it has endured. I don’t even fear Halle Berry anymore.
A Little 'Tang at the 'Stang
“You’re a phenomenal woman. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” These kind words from BMNB this morning as I was dragging my tail and my spirit to work meant the world to me. He could see that my heart was heavy and my eyes were sad. “Keep your head up,” he advised.
This morning we discussed our future. Or rather, he told me in no uncertain terms what he was willing to do to secure our future, financially and otherwise. To make joy a regular part of our lives, not an occasional treat. To put our little family first. In other words, he assured me that in no uncertain terms he had my back.
For all of that, I would have willingly allowed him the pleasure of a little “‘tang at the ‘stang.”
You see, BMNB just returned from three days on the road driving most of our worldly possessions from a storage space in Aurora, Colorado to Elk Grove. He was tired beyond measure when he called me from Winnemucca, Nevada.
“You know,” I started slyly, “you’re in Nevada, where prostitution is legal in some counties. I wouldn’t be mad at you if you took in a little “ ‘tang at the ‘stang,” I laughed.
He laughed right back. “You mean the Mustang Ranch? Are they even still in business?” I could visualize his arched right eyebrow, which he arches when he’s curious or doubtful about something.
“I don’t know, but if they are, hey, it’s legal there and the IRS is probably running it to pay for back taxes. Won’t mess with your security clearance.”
He chuckled. “Nah, that’s okay. I’m good.”
You see, I’ve changed my position about marital infidelity. Back when I started college, I told my freshman roommate Sheila that if a husband of mine cheated on me, we’d be through. Cheating meant there was no trust; if there was no trust, there was no marriage.
“You mean you’d throw away a marriage behind some ass?” Sheila was wise beyond her years, even at 18.
Now, at the age of 45, I get it. Especially where BMNB is concerned.
You see, BMNB doesn’t have any real vices. He doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink, doesn’t do drugs, doesn’t gamble, and doesn’t chase women (or at least I have no reason to believe he does.) He’s cheap to a fault and won’t do anything that might remotely endanger his security clearance. He doesn’t even have a golf jones – he only goes out to the links to socialize with his friends who are golfing. He has no anger management issues, he’s never raised his hand to a woman, he’s never been arrested or done time, and he has no deep-seated therapy-worthy issues. For the most part, he’s as close to perfect a mate as I will ever come.
So if BMNB got a wild hair and decided to chase some tail, I ain’t mad at him, as long as he doesn’t violate the ground rules: 1) No souvenirs (e.g., crab lice, STD’s or children); 2) No emotional attachment; 3) No lying; 4) No cheating recidivism; and 5) No messing with my financial assets if you violate Rule Number 2 and decide you want a divorce. There’s love and then there’s money. Don’t mess with my money.
Long story short, I’m 45 years of age. I don’t want to start over. I don’t want to date again. I don’t want to divide up my assets, and I sure as hell don’t want to sell the Google stock in my 401k, especially behind some tail. We’ve worked too hard to build this life together to let it run adrift behind a stupid indiscretion from a man who’s been far too perfect for far too long. No person, male or female, is this good, and even BMNB should be allowed to fail just once.
So, BMNB, the offer still stands. But knowing you, you’re too good to take it.
That’s why I love you.
This morning we discussed our future. Or rather, he told me in no uncertain terms what he was willing to do to secure our future, financially and otherwise. To make joy a regular part of our lives, not an occasional treat. To put our little family first. In other words, he assured me that in no uncertain terms he had my back.
For all of that, I would have willingly allowed him the pleasure of a little “‘tang at the ‘stang.”
You see, BMNB just returned from three days on the road driving most of our worldly possessions from a storage space in Aurora, Colorado to Elk Grove. He was tired beyond measure when he called me from Winnemucca, Nevada.
“You know,” I started slyly, “you’re in Nevada, where prostitution is legal in some counties. I wouldn’t be mad at you if you took in a little “ ‘tang at the ‘stang,” I laughed.
He laughed right back. “You mean the Mustang Ranch? Are they even still in business?” I could visualize his arched right eyebrow, which he arches when he’s curious or doubtful about something.
“I don’t know, but if they are, hey, it’s legal there and the IRS is probably running it to pay for back taxes. Won’t mess with your security clearance.”
He chuckled. “Nah, that’s okay. I’m good.”
You see, I’ve changed my position about marital infidelity. Back when I started college, I told my freshman roommate Sheila that if a husband of mine cheated on me, we’d be through. Cheating meant there was no trust; if there was no trust, there was no marriage.
“You mean you’d throw away a marriage behind some ass?” Sheila was wise beyond her years, even at 18.
Now, at the age of 45, I get it. Especially where BMNB is concerned.
You see, BMNB doesn’t have any real vices. He doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink, doesn’t do drugs, doesn’t gamble, and doesn’t chase women (or at least I have no reason to believe he does.) He’s cheap to a fault and won’t do anything that might remotely endanger his security clearance. He doesn’t even have a golf jones – he only goes out to the links to socialize with his friends who are golfing. He has no anger management issues, he’s never raised his hand to a woman, he’s never been arrested or done time, and he has no deep-seated therapy-worthy issues. For the most part, he’s as close to perfect a mate as I will ever come.
So if BMNB got a wild hair and decided to chase some tail, I ain’t mad at him, as long as he doesn’t violate the ground rules: 1) No souvenirs (e.g., crab lice, STD’s or children); 2) No emotional attachment; 3) No lying; 4) No cheating recidivism; and 5) No messing with my financial assets if you violate Rule Number 2 and decide you want a divorce. There’s love and then there’s money. Don’t mess with my money.
Long story short, I’m 45 years of age. I don’t want to start over. I don’t want to date again. I don’t want to divide up my assets, and I sure as hell don’t want to sell the Google stock in my 401k, especially behind some tail. We’ve worked too hard to build this life together to let it run adrift behind a stupid indiscretion from a man who’s been far too perfect for far too long. No person, male or female, is this good, and even BMNB should be allowed to fail just once.
So, BMNB, the offer still stands. But knowing you, you’re too good to take it.
That’s why I love you.
State of the Union
“About five years.”
-- The answer I received from my friend Sheila, who now lives in North Carolina, when I asked, “How many years of marriage does it take until you start feeling comfortable in your marriage?”
On Saturday I celebrated five years of marriage to my husband, BMNB (Black Man Not Blogging). We celebrated by allowing each other to do what we really wanted to do – I went on a gardening tear while he vegged on the sofa and caught up on some much needed sleep.
I can’t say that I was always assured that we would reach five years.
Right before I got married, I made peace with being single. I embraced it, had started to plan my life on the assumption that I would never marry. Having married late in life, I’ve tended to be somewhat utilitarian about marriage – that marriage should make you better off than you would have been had you remained single. Not financially, but emotionally.
That hasn’t always been the case in my marriage.
I’ve felt, at times, that I carried more than my fair share of the burdens without an end in sight.
I’ve felt, at times, that my wants and needs came in second to his more pressing wants and needs.
I’ve felt, at times, that being a good wife meant taking on certain roles and responsibilities, whether I liked them or not.
Then I grew the eff up.
I realized that, contrary to what I was lead to believe, yes, people do indeed keep score in a marriage, especially if they’re carrying the lion’s share of its burdens most of the time. No one can be expected to carry more than his or her fair share for an indeterminate amount of time. So, I’ve learned that if you’re married and you’re not carrying your fair share, whether it’s financial responsibility, division of household labor, or caring for the kids, you need to give your partner some certainty as to when the situation is going to even up, lest your partner ask, as I once did, “If this is what marriage has to offer, why would I choose this over being single?”
I realized that no one – not your husband, your mother, or your father – is responsible for your happiness other than you. If you’re not happy, it’s on you to speak up. Few spouses can read minds. Taking responsibility for your own unhappiness starts with voicing it. Whenever I’ve spoken up, BMNB has listened and taken me seriously.
I've realized that, like Bishop T.D. Jakes says, marriage is the union of two imperfect people. And, quiet as it's kept, I'm so far from perfect, they don't have a measure for the distance. Light years don't suffice. So when I get a notion to criticize my husband's shortcomings, I try to remind myself of my own glaring imperfections and the fact that, more often than not, he overlooks them.
I realized that, as one of my bridesmaids advised me, no two marriages are alike. What works for other folks in their marriages may not work for you. Just because all your girlfriends cook and embrace cooking, if you don’t like it, being a wife isn’t going to make you like it or embrace it all the more. If anything, it will lead you to ask, “What did he do for dinner before he married me?” You have to tailor your marriage to the two people in it.
I realized that it isn't always what I say, but how I say it. I've got quite a sharp tongue, and I don't want to sharpen it at the expense of my husband's psyche. Quiet as it's kept, apologies don't really erase words spoken, because they don't eliminate the fact that you actually thought the words. Better to step back and think clearly about the effect of one's words than try to take them back once spoken. Because you really can't.
I realized that you have to allow your spouse room to be who he is, with the proviso that he allows you room to be who you are. BMNB is never going to embrace cooking, period. Just doesn’t like to do it. Looks like he’s being punished when he has to. Conversely, I’m probably not going to be attending church with him every Sunday. Maybe the church of my choosing, at best, but probably not the church of his choice. Mind you, these were both things we said we’d “embrace” during our pre-marital counseling, kind of a tradeoff we each were supposed to make for the other. Five years later, nothing doing. It went against who we both really were and are. Now, I think we’ve reached some peace with it, or at least détente.
The most important thing I’ve realized is that marriage isn’t a destination, but a journey through the joys and vicissitudes of life that you share with an incredible partner. Not a perfect partner, but an incredible partner. And I can’t imagine sharing this journey with anyone else, so much so that I hope to predecease my husband because I can’t imagine this journey of life without him. Now that he’s a permanent part of my world, I don’t want to know a world without him. I don’t even want to imagine it.
Realizing all this is the best gift of all after five years of an incredible journey with an incredible partner.
Happy Anniversary, BMNB.
-- The answer I received from my friend Sheila, who now lives in North Carolina, when I asked, “How many years of marriage does it take until you start feeling comfortable in your marriage?”
On Saturday I celebrated five years of marriage to my husband, BMNB (Black Man Not Blogging). We celebrated by allowing each other to do what we really wanted to do – I went on a gardening tear while he vegged on the sofa and caught up on some much needed sleep.
I can’t say that I was always assured that we would reach five years.
Right before I got married, I made peace with being single. I embraced it, had started to plan my life on the assumption that I would never marry. Having married late in life, I’ve tended to be somewhat utilitarian about marriage – that marriage should make you better off than you would have been had you remained single. Not financially, but emotionally.
That hasn’t always been the case in my marriage.
I’ve felt, at times, that I carried more than my fair share of the burdens without an end in sight.
I’ve felt, at times, that my wants and needs came in second to his more pressing wants and needs.
I’ve felt, at times, that being a good wife meant taking on certain roles and responsibilities, whether I liked them or not.
Then I grew the eff up.
I realized that, contrary to what I was lead to believe, yes, people do indeed keep score in a marriage, especially if they’re carrying the lion’s share of its burdens most of the time. No one can be expected to carry more than his or her fair share for an indeterminate amount of time. So, I’ve learned that if you’re married and you’re not carrying your fair share, whether it’s financial responsibility, division of household labor, or caring for the kids, you need to give your partner some certainty as to when the situation is going to even up, lest your partner ask, as I once did, “If this is what marriage has to offer, why would I choose this over being single?”
I realized that no one – not your husband, your mother, or your father – is responsible for your happiness other than you. If you’re not happy, it’s on you to speak up. Few spouses can read minds. Taking responsibility for your own unhappiness starts with voicing it. Whenever I’ve spoken up, BMNB has listened and taken me seriously.
I've realized that, like Bishop T.D. Jakes says, marriage is the union of two imperfect people. And, quiet as it's kept, I'm so far from perfect, they don't have a measure for the distance. Light years don't suffice. So when I get a notion to criticize my husband's shortcomings, I try to remind myself of my own glaring imperfections and the fact that, more often than not, he overlooks them.
I realized that, as one of my bridesmaids advised me, no two marriages are alike. What works for other folks in their marriages may not work for you. Just because all your girlfriends cook and embrace cooking, if you don’t like it, being a wife isn’t going to make you like it or embrace it all the more. If anything, it will lead you to ask, “What did he do for dinner before he married me?” You have to tailor your marriage to the two people in it.
I realized that it isn't always what I say, but how I say it. I've got quite a sharp tongue, and I don't want to sharpen it at the expense of my husband's psyche. Quiet as it's kept, apologies don't really erase words spoken, because they don't eliminate the fact that you actually thought the words. Better to step back and think clearly about the effect of one's words than try to take them back once spoken. Because you really can't.
I realized that you have to allow your spouse room to be who he is, with the proviso that he allows you room to be who you are. BMNB is never going to embrace cooking, period. Just doesn’t like to do it. Looks like he’s being punished when he has to. Conversely, I’m probably not going to be attending church with him every Sunday. Maybe the church of my choosing, at best, but probably not the church of his choice. Mind you, these were both things we said we’d “embrace” during our pre-marital counseling, kind of a tradeoff we each were supposed to make for the other. Five years later, nothing doing. It went against who we both really were and are. Now, I think we’ve reached some peace with it, or at least détente.
The most important thing I’ve realized is that marriage isn’t a destination, but a journey through the joys and vicissitudes of life that you share with an incredible partner. Not a perfect partner, but an incredible partner. And I can’t imagine sharing this journey with anyone else, so much so that I hope to predecease my husband because I can’t imagine this journey of life without him. Now that he’s a permanent part of my world, I don’t want to know a world without him. I don’t even want to imagine it.
Realizing all this is the best gift of all after five years of an incredible journey with an incredible partner.
Happy Anniversary, BMNB.
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