On Acknowledging 16 Years of Marriage
I thought about titling this post "On Celebrating 16 Years of Marriage" but it hasn't felt like much of a celebration lately and wedded bliss feels like the stuff of fairy tales. So this is an acknowledgement of a promise I made 16 years ago today to love a certain red-headed gentleman forever. For.Ever.
16 years ago, I was 22 years old and that promise was made in good faith but in absolute ignorance. When I stood up in front of my family and friends and told the world that I was going to be connected to this same person for the rest of my life, I was pretty sure I knew what I was doing. I suppose everyone feels that way on their wedding day; at least they should feel that way.
I met Ben when I was 18 years old and began dating him when I was 19 (almost 20). It didn't take long for me to be pretty much head over heels, annoyingly, super besotted with him. He played the guitar. He wrote poetry...sometimes to me. He was funny and smart and handsome and deep and thoughtful. He had strong hands that were amazingly gentle. He was kind and he was breathtakingly steady. Not much could rile that man up. He was the calm, cool antidote to my fiery enthusiasm and passion. He could tether me to safe ground as I soared the breeze of emotion. We were so in love, you guys. When he was working in Bemidji and I was still in college, he came to visit me every single weekend. Every time he left, we both cried. I know... It's just so annoyingly sweet and it's absolutely true. We would hug and kiss just one last time and then he would get into that old blue Taurus and drive away from me. Tears would wet his cheeks and they just streamed down mine. With that kind of love, is it any wonder that I was confident that my decision to pledge to For.Ever with this guy seemed like a pretty good gamble? It didn't even feel like a gamble. It was the surest thing I had ever known.
16 years ago I had no idea that just a few months later, I would become pregnant with our first baby. I should have known that might happen since I pretty much sucked at birth control. However, I was sure that I was fairly invincible to hardship or challenge because I had done everything else so very much by the book. So, I was pretty surprised when I learned that our family was expanding about 3 years before we planned that it might.
16 years ago I did not know that this baby, who was a loved and celebrated baby, would be born with cleft palate and would need several surgeries. I didn't know that she would not want to eat and would become frighteningly thin and would need steady monitoring by the doctor. I didn't know that she would want her mama so much and with so much ferocity that she cried every day, all day while at day care. We loved her ferociously and completely and spent many years dreading doctor's appointments and prepping for surgeries that, while routine for many people, were scary and traumatizing to our little family.
16 years ago, I didn't know that her younger sister would also be born with cleft palate and need the same surgeries. More fear. More uncertainty. More doctor's appointments.
16 years ago, I didn't know that when I had her second sister and my last sweet baby, I would be sad and depressed for months and not really know why. I would always choose those girls and that journey again and again because they are my most precious gift, but those years were hard.
16 years ago I did not know that foolish, silly, ignorant decisions about money would haunt me and cripple me many years later. I didn't know that student loan payments would be that high and that medical bills could be so astronomically huge and that the bills would just get bigger without me really knowing how.
16 years ago I did not know that I would later go to graduate school and embark upon a career that, while rewarding, would suck the life out of me. I didn't know that I would have a year of loss after loss after loss and that those losses would plunge me into a period of dark sadness that I didn't even recognize until I was out of it.
16 years ago I did not know that the challenges of my childhood, which felt so resolved and tidied up, would become open wounds over and over again.
16 years ago I did not know that parenting, while the best thing I ever did in my life, would become so consuming and busy and frantic that the space for that love that felt so eternal would grow tinier and tinier.
16 years ago I did not know that this man who was so many wonderful things to so many people was hiding a deep, secret loathing of himself. I didn't know that this man who I loved so dearly and who I know loved me and really did genuinely care about the people around him, did not love himself. Not one single bit. I didn't know that this secret loathing, like all secrets, would demand to be known and acknowledged and would therefore come out sideways and backwards and leave a path of destruction so wide and affect so many people that it just seems absolutely unbelievable. I would never have believed it was possible 16 years ago, that's for sure.
16 years ago I did not know that in year 15, what was once so easy would become so devastatingly hard. I didn't know and would never have believed that at some point during the 16th year of marriage, I would take off the ring I had worn almost non-stop and not be sure that I would ever put it on again.
16 years ago I promised For.Ever and now I wake up every day and I ask myself, "Can you promise to do this for one more day?" Most days, the answer is, "Yes. I think I can maybe do that." Some days the answer has been, "No. Not one more second. I can.not do this even one more second." Some days I can promise to hang in for the next 24 hours and some days I can only commit to the next minute. And some days, I have been so sure that I could not do one second more, that I made plans in my brain to get out. I have even said the words out loud to Ben and to some trusted friends. Marriage is so dang hard, you guys.
If you had asked me in year 14 about what I would do if I were in this very situation, I would have answered with great confidence. If given this scenario that I am in as a hypothetical situation, I am pretty sure I would have *known* what I would do. But now, when I'm in the thick of it, the answers are not clear at all. All that I do know is that the way forward is through a lot of freaking pain and heartache...for me, for Ben, for people who love us, and probably for people who can't stand us.
On those days when I think that I cannot do one single second more and I start to think about what it would look like to move on and out, I take a deep breath and I look all around. As I survey this life and the people that inhabit it, the math doesn't feel like simple subtraction any more.
Moving on and out means giving up Ben's family - a family that has loved me and embraced me and cared for me.
Moving on and out is expensive - so very, very expensive. We can barely sustain one household, how could we make two function and still have decent lives? You see, kids still need school clothes and lunches and a decent home to live in. The mortgage company doesn't care that my heart is broken; they still need that payment each month.
Moving on and out would cause hurt and pain to people I love more than I love myself. My daughters don't care if my heart is broken. Scratch that. They care. However, what they care about the most is that their family is okay and that I do my best to keep it okay. That's what they want and deserve. Moving on and out would hurt them...hurt them deeply.
Moving on and out would mean that holidays and birthdays and weekends would have to get divided up and that I would no longer be the person who tucked my kids in every night. I would not get to see them rub their eyes awake every morning. I would still parent full-time, but sometimes it would be from a remote location.
Moving on and out means giving up on something and someone that I have loved more deeply than I have loved anyone in my entire life. It means failing at something that I was bound and determined to get right.
Moving on and out means focusing on the worst moments rather than the many, many sweet, amazing moments of connection and love. It means letting all of that go. It means losing. It means losing a lot.
Damn it, you guys. Marriage is so hard. And divorce sounds really hard. It is all so freaking hard.
So you see, I know it seems like a straight forward story problem that looks something like this: (Girl +Boy)/Life. However, really, there are factors and exponents and multiple parts to this equation and the math is not so simple any more. I've never been that good at math anyway.
I'm not wearing that ring today. I am probably not going to wear it tomorrow. I don't even know where it actually is right now. That ring represents a promise that I just can't keep based on a premise that is no longer true. I can't promise to For.Ever, but I can promise to today and maybe even the next day. On each of the these days and hours and minutes, I'm going to keep working at this story problem and someday, even though I really am bad at math and apparently not so good at marriage, I might just get to the answer.
I started this post by just wanting to acknowledge these 16 years and forgo the celebration, but I take that back. The first 15 years had challenges and this last year has been utterly devastating, but we are still here as a sort of, kind of us. We are not throwing this away and are fighting hard to find the best possible path forward. Happy anniversary to the us that is together today. Here's to at least another 24 hours of that kind of, sort of, maybe For.Ever.
I love you, Ben. I do. Damn it, I really do love you and this little family we have created. Let's keep doing this math for at least another 24 hours. In my heart of hearts, I've always wanted the answer to any problems we have to solve to = Us. But, if this time it doesn't... If, in the end, the math really is a division problem, you will always leave a remainder in my heart.
16 years ago, I was 22 years old and that promise was made in good faith but in absolute ignorance. When I stood up in front of my family and friends and told the world that I was going to be connected to this same person for the rest of my life, I was pretty sure I knew what I was doing. I suppose everyone feels that way on their wedding day; at least they should feel that way.
I met Ben when I was 18 years old and began dating him when I was 19 (almost 20). It didn't take long for me to be pretty much head over heels, annoyingly, super besotted with him. He played the guitar. He wrote poetry...sometimes to me. He was funny and smart and handsome and deep and thoughtful. He had strong hands that were amazingly gentle. He was kind and he was breathtakingly steady. Not much could rile that man up. He was the calm, cool antidote to my fiery enthusiasm and passion. He could tether me to safe ground as I soared the breeze of emotion. We were so in love, you guys. When he was working in Bemidji and I was still in college, he came to visit me every single weekend. Every time he left, we both cried. I know... It's just so annoyingly sweet and it's absolutely true. We would hug and kiss just one last time and then he would get into that old blue Taurus and drive away from me. Tears would wet his cheeks and they just streamed down mine. With that kind of love, is it any wonder that I was confident that my decision to pledge to For.Ever with this guy seemed like a pretty good gamble? It didn't even feel like a gamble. It was the surest thing I had ever known.
16 years ago I had no idea that just a few months later, I would become pregnant with our first baby. I should have known that might happen since I pretty much sucked at birth control. However, I was sure that I was fairly invincible to hardship or challenge because I had done everything else so very much by the book. So, I was pretty surprised when I learned that our family was expanding about 3 years before we planned that it might.
16 years ago I did not know that this baby, who was a loved and celebrated baby, would be born with cleft palate and would need several surgeries. I didn't know that she would not want to eat and would become frighteningly thin and would need steady monitoring by the doctor. I didn't know that she would want her mama so much and with so much ferocity that she cried every day, all day while at day care. We loved her ferociously and completely and spent many years dreading doctor's appointments and prepping for surgeries that, while routine for many people, were scary and traumatizing to our little family.
16 years ago, I didn't know that her younger sister would also be born with cleft palate and need the same surgeries. More fear. More uncertainty. More doctor's appointments.
16 years ago, I didn't know that when I had her second sister and my last sweet baby, I would be sad and depressed for months and not really know why. I would always choose those girls and that journey again and again because they are my most precious gift, but those years were hard.
16 years ago I did not know that foolish, silly, ignorant decisions about money would haunt me and cripple me many years later. I didn't know that student loan payments would be that high and that medical bills could be so astronomically huge and that the bills would just get bigger without me really knowing how.
16 years ago I did not know that I would later go to graduate school and embark upon a career that, while rewarding, would suck the life out of me. I didn't know that I would have a year of loss after loss after loss and that those losses would plunge me into a period of dark sadness that I didn't even recognize until I was out of it.
16 years ago I did not know that the challenges of my childhood, which felt so resolved and tidied up, would become open wounds over and over again.
16 years ago I did not know that parenting, while the best thing I ever did in my life, would become so consuming and busy and frantic that the space for that love that felt so eternal would grow tinier and tinier.
16 years ago I did not know that this man who was so many wonderful things to so many people was hiding a deep, secret loathing of himself. I didn't know that this man who I loved so dearly and who I know loved me and really did genuinely care about the people around him, did not love himself. Not one single bit. I didn't know that this secret loathing, like all secrets, would demand to be known and acknowledged and would therefore come out sideways and backwards and leave a path of destruction so wide and affect so many people that it just seems absolutely unbelievable. I would never have believed it was possible 16 years ago, that's for sure.
16 years ago I did not know that in year 15, what was once so easy would become so devastatingly hard. I didn't know and would never have believed that at some point during the 16th year of marriage, I would take off the ring I had worn almost non-stop and not be sure that I would ever put it on again.
16 years ago I promised For.Ever and now I wake up every day and I ask myself, "Can you promise to do this for one more day?" Most days, the answer is, "Yes. I think I can maybe do that." Some days the answer has been, "No. Not one more second. I can.not do this even one more second." Some days I can promise to hang in for the next 24 hours and some days I can only commit to the next minute. And some days, I have been so sure that I could not do one second more, that I made plans in my brain to get out. I have even said the words out loud to Ben and to some trusted friends. Marriage is so dang hard, you guys.
If you had asked me in year 14 about what I would do if I were in this very situation, I would have answered with great confidence. If given this scenario that I am in as a hypothetical situation, I am pretty sure I would have *known* what I would do. But now, when I'm in the thick of it, the answers are not clear at all. All that I do know is that the way forward is through a lot of freaking pain and heartache...for me, for Ben, for people who love us, and probably for people who can't stand us.
On those days when I think that I cannot do one single second more and I start to think about what it would look like to move on and out, I take a deep breath and I look all around. As I survey this life and the people that inhabit it, the math doesn't feel like simple subtraction any more.
Moving on and out means giving up Ben's family - a family that has loved me and embraced me and cared for me.
Moving on and out is expensive - so very, very expensive. We can barely sustain one household, how could we make two function and still have decent lives? You see, kids still need school clothes and lunches and a decent home to live in. The mortgage company doesn't care that my heart is broken; they still need that payment each month.
Moving on and out would cause hurt and pain to people I love more than I love myself. My daughters don't care if my heart is broken. Scratch that. They care. However, what they care about the most is that their family is okay and that I do my best to keep it okay. That's what they want and deserve. Moving on and out would hurt them...hurt them deeply.
Moving on and out would mean that holidays and birthdays and weekends would have to get divided up and that I would no longer be the person who tucked my kids in every night. I would not get to see them rub their eyes awake every morning. I would still parent full-time, but sometimes it would be from a remote location.
Moving on and out means giving up on something and someone that I have loved more deeply than I have loved anyone in my entire life. It means failing at something that I was bound and determined to get right.
Moving on and out means focusing on the worst moments rather than the many, many sweet, amazing moments of connection and love. It means letting all of that go. It means losing. It means losing a lot.
Damn it, you guys. Marriage is so hard. And divorce sounds really hard. It is all so freaking hard.
So you see, I know it seems like a straight forward story problem that looks something like this: (Girl +Boy)/Life. However, really, there are factors and exponents and multiple parts to this equation and the math is not so simple any more. I've never been that good at math anyway.
I'm not wearing that ring today. I am probably not going to wear it tomorrow. I don't even know where it actually is right now. That ring represents a promise that I just can't keep based on a premise that is no longer true. I can't promise to For.Ever, but I can promise to today and maybe even the next day. On each of the these days and hours and minutes, I'm going to keep working at this story problem and someday, even though I really am bad at math and apparently not so good at marriage, I might just get to the answer.
I started this post by just wanting to acknowledge these 16 years and forgo the celebration, but I take that back. The first 15 years had challenges and this last year has been utterly devastating, but we are still here as a sort of, kind of us. We are not throwing this away and are fighting hard to find the best possible path forward. Happy anniversary to the us that is together today. Here's to at least another 24 hours of that kind of, sort of, maybe For.Ever.
I love you, Ben. I do. Damn it, I really do love you and this little family we have created. Let's keep doing this math for at least another 24 hours. In my heart of hearts, I've always wanted the answer to any problems we have to solve to = Us. But, if this time it doesn't... If, in the end, the math really is a division problem, you will always leave a remainder in my heart.
Oh Sara. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make things better. I can and do pray for you and wish you could have happiness. I have no other words except to say you are loved. We keep a quote on our refrigerator that reads "All works of God proceed slowly and in pain; but then, their roots are sturdier and their flowering the lovelier." I pray this is the case for you.
ReplyDeleteOh, Sara. I wish I could wave a magic wand and have things get better for you. I can, and do pray for you that you will be able to find happiness. We have a quote on our refrigerator that reads " All the works of God proceed slowly and in pain; but then, their roots are the sturdier and their flowering the lovelier." May you find some peace and happiness this day.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Jane. You have been such a source of inspiration and comfort.
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