Rebecca from Daily Rebecca is one of those blogs you find and think, “Oh my. Oh, how much time can I find to read her?” She is smart and witty and so honest that I often catch myself nodding along as I read. She works full time and manages to keep everything together – so of course I am in awe since taking a shower is, like, applause worthy around here. Please to enjoy her ever-so-real post on her marriage:
Let me start by saying I was beyond thrilled when Diana asked me to guest blog for her. I’ve been
stalking following her for months now and have fallen in love with her depth, honesty and sweet spirit. I’m what you would call a UUUGE FAN! (said with my best Donald Trump impersonation)
Her For Better or Worse post got me thinking. I just so happen to be writing this post on my 8th wedding anniversary. Wow, eight years…it seems so close to ten, and ten makes me feel like a grownup!
I met my husband Andy at church youth group when I was 11 and he was 13. I had a crush on his friend. Andy was just the silly sidekick…
By the end of 8th grade, I had it bad for Andy. His friend was old news. I wrote about Andy in my diary, I biked past his house, I watched his every move from 10 pews back on Sunday mornings, I wrote my first name with his last name in a million different ways on any piece of paper I could find.
I was smitten.
I daydreamed about marrying him and living The American Dream. You know, 2.5 kids, house in the suburbs, nice vacations: the works.
I had visions of primping for his company parties. I’d look ravishing and he’d tell me I was the most beautiful woman in the world. We’d dart off in our luxury sedan to enjoy a night on the town while the children stayed home with the sitter. In my dreams we were so fabulous.
Fast-forward 9 years.
The reality was that Andy lost his job 2 months before our wedding. The first year of our marriage was kind of like playing house and kind of like me working while he played video games and job-hunted.
We lived in a modest apartment, not a sprawling suburban colonial. We ordered pizza and watched Friends re-runs. I wore sweats and a t-shirt, not diamonds and cocktail dresses. I stressed about having to bring home the bacon and I stewed about Andy not living up to the fairytale.
I nagged & manipulated. He withdrew & became more passive. I regretted getting married so young & he wondered why he felt indifferent.
We kept up the newlywed façade on the exterior but I became increasingly lonely and depressed on the inside.
Andy was a nice guy. How could I not be grateful for him? He was everything I’d always wanted. He was kind, he was sweet, he didn’t rock the boat, he wasn’t mean, or critical or anything negative. So why did I want to run away?!
Turns out marriage isn’t what it’s made out to be in books and movies. It’s hard work. Its sole purpose isn’t to make us happy. Yeah, that one was hard for me to swallow too.
Marriage is great. It’s intimate and rewarding. It brings our true selves to the surface, and, if we’re willing, it can refine us into the people we were created to be. Go ahead and look up refine (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/refine). Ouch, right?
But remember, it’s the struggles that make the victory so much sweeter.
I’d need a few hours and at least 4 lattes to get through the story of our marriage. What I can say is that all of the hard times have molded us into different people than we were on our wedding day.
We may not be living The American Dream as I’d imagined it to be, but we are living out the story of us.
Rebecca is an enthusiastic and outspoken full-time working mom. She blogs at Daily Rebecca about marriage, motherhood, cooking and trying to keep it all together from day to day. Find her on Twitter as @rgould726.