( What Makes a Relationship Last? https://youtu.be/gB014VMKh8I )
After having been married to my husband for over a quarter of a century (that seems so much more sophisticated than “over 25 years”, I’m feeling right at the moment) and having naturally birthed five remarkably outspoken children between the ages of 27 and 7, with this partner of mine, it is to say the least that whereas I truly found other names for him throughout this journey of marriage, I smile to arrive at the honesty of actually calling him my best friend. For those who can understand the “honesty” part goes along without saying that sometimes, and I mean SOMETIMES, we must call upon what we desire and hope for by faith, not by sight. That faith part, though, takes work. I mean, calling upon the days of Abraham, Moses, and Joseph faith kind.
My husband and I are too alike in so many ways and yet, so strikingly different that we naturally bump heads. I, being the more outspoken between the two within our first decade of marriage was outwon by the unrelenting determination to ease myself to an equilibrium within the second decade. Now, going into finishing our third decade together, I smile to see the reciprocating love and respect we give one another. Yes, there are moments where the scale is a bit unbalanced, but maturity has given me wisdom to know that strength comes from knowing when to lighten up and when to keep that foot heavy on the ground. Honestly, I look for days where I find myself afloat. Being married for this long, I’ve done heavy days. Those days are not fun. Anti-drugs and anti-alcohol, always believing in naturally working out your inner-turmoil- it’s me, myself, and I to get through those burdensome days. If you’ve ever just worked out heavy days cold turkey as I believe the only way of doing, then you understand me for embracing those days where there is no care in the world and all is GOOD. You just wish it was good all the time. Greatest strength in marriage doesn’t come from those good days, however. And sometimes, the fight is with no one, but yourself.
Having a strong marriage requires lots of communication. However, what I did not want to repeat in my marriage that I sadly saw in my parents’ marriage was the lack of listening. Just because two are talking doesn’t mean anyone is being heard. I learned from watching years of interaction between my mom and dad that while they definitely talked to one another, it was mostly just words being thrown across the room, most times leading to arguments about the most trivial matters- like they just had to keep arguing about ANYTHING to have something to feel alive about. My childhood placed me the youngest of five children. The unspoken rule must have been the louder ones got heard the most. Let’s just say I learned to fight for my existence. Hence, I came into my marriage under this mindset- you yell to get your point across at no point to stop until “heard”.
My husband, an only child, took an immediate dislike to such conditions and used a form of attack to decimate the volume by frequently, without joining the decibel level, remarking about my loudness, always suggesting that I needed to tone myself down. He always made me feel so little whenever he took on the “adult” approach in my younger years of our marriage because I can admit now- I was too immature to concede. While still a rebel at heart, I am happy to admit I have grown some and with time and patience, I learned I didn’t have to keep talking loudly to get my point across. Essentially, it is not how much or how loud my words are being said, but what I say and how I say it that leads to clear and coherent conveyance of my words. This has taken years and is definitely still in need of constant maintenance. Funny thing. I have found enjoyment in discovering this quiet demeanor of me and feel greater strength and peace from within in being able to listen and listen well.
My husband, that “mirror” who undyingly urged me to look at my reflection did not and has not bowed down to what he deemed unacceptable in our home for our family from the start. And finally, there I was, realizing that the only reason why I didn’t want to look is because, here it is, that moment of revelation- I could see my parents still yelling at one another along with my siblings right behind them, fighting for mere existence. It hit me. I was only still yelling to tune out all those voices that had brought me so much anxiety growing up. I wasn’t made to yell. I didn’t have to yell any longer. I just didn’t know there was any other way. It took this man whom I dearly and proudly call my husband, my best friend, to never give up on me- the me inside. He saw me. He sees me. Still going. Still growing.
