I suck at marriage.

I worry sometimes that I am genetically doomed and incapable of having a successful relationship. Between my parents and my grandparents, there are 6 separate divorces*. I’m afraid sometimes that my childhood declarations that I was “never going to get married!” were actually an early sign that I was truly not made with The Stuff that it takes to be a good spouse. Whatever The Stuff is.

I know I am not an easy person to be married to. Hell, I’m not an easy person to be in the same room with a good chunk of the time. I’m naturally self centered and over dramatic, a combination that spells annoyance at best and destructive meltdown at worst.

And my list of demands in a spouse is long and changing and impossible to live up to at times. I want security and sensitivity and strength and power and kindness and chivalry and the ability to do what I want when I want it. I often find myself worrying more about how someone else can make me happy than how I can make life easier for someone else. And I suspect I’m not an easy girl to please.

And yet, right now, I feel like maybe… I can do this.

Or rather, we can do this.

The last year has been hard. Really, really fucking hard. In fact, the last year there have been many times when it has been so hard that it has been shamefully easy to forget about the really good 7+ years before this one.

I will admit to having an optimistic fantasy in my head that we would move here and everything would be OK. Better than OK. We would have nothing but each other and would flourish within the Captive Audience Environment. I would be happier and therefore he would be happier and everything would be Good! Great! Grand!

Heh.

Note to self and other married readers: adding major change (aka known stressors) to an already stressed relationship may not be the best thing you can do to “get over the hump”. (See also: reasons NOT to have a baby.)

The first month was bad. Really, really bad. So bad that it was impossible to ignore that I was not the only one unhappy (please refer to early reference of me being self centered) .

And then, something happened a few weeks ago.

And I have no fucking clue what it was.

I think someone may have snapped and said I am absolutely not driving myself to the looney-fucking-bin because I am afraid of being a bad wife spouse. And it is possible that someone announced that they while they did not wish to send anyone to said looney bin, they were in fact worth fighting for. Damn it.

Oh, and also, we ran out of other people to bitch to.

I mean, sure, I have the Internet. And the phone. And a boss who is more than happy to listen to my side of the story. And he has… um… hm…well… you know, he’s really into talk radio. Anyway.

The thing is, we’re here. Just us. And our kids. (and yes, I know, some really cool friends we’ve met recently - but mainly us, quit distracting me!)

And for the first time in an embarrassingly long time, we really are each other’s whole world. And we pretty much have nothing else to do now but Try. It’s not that we didn’t want to try before. It’s just that it was very, very easy to find other Less Hard Shit to do before.

But all of a sudden, without the friends and the families and the obligations and the distractions and the comfort zone, we find ourselves face to face with one another. And remarkably aware of what the hell is going on.

It’s like we both suddenly became conscious of the fact that our actions affect the other. *smack* Yeah, I know.

ANYway.

We’re not perfect. Obviously. And we still fight. And roll our eyes. And initiate the Cone of Silence. And maybe toss around the “fuck you’s” in a heated moment.

But I also got a phone call late yesterday morning to say “no matter what, I love you, I do care, and we can talk as long as you want when you get home tonight.”

And I went home to homemade brownies. Or rather, homemade Low Carb brownies. And Low Carb ice cream. And Low Carb chocolate syrup on top of said Low Carb ice cream and brownies.

And the day before when I had a really rough day at work and was dragging my ass home, it was my husband I picked up the phone to call. And he listened. And discussed. And actually gave advice that made a hell of a lot of sense.

And there have been a lot of really awesome things over the past few weeks, not the least of which has been how things have gone when we have not gotten along. I kind of feel like that stupid Newlywed who says “look honey! our first fight!” and is all glowing and gushy afterwards because while there was a fight, there was also the other side that shows you that you really and truly might be OK - fights and all (except of course it’s not our first, and I don’t say it to my parents, I rehash the whole thing to the entire World Wide Wisdom, but other than that - just. like. a Newlywed.)

And also, I’m less glowy and gushy. And more cautiously optimistic. With one eye on the Gene of Doom* and the other on what looks to be a widening ray of hope.

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*And to said parents/grandparents who have been divorced and quite clearly would be passer-on’ers of genes… I swear to God this is not meant as a judgement on you. I love you in all of your awesomeness and I mean it when I say there is Nothing. Wrong. With You. But it does make a very handy excuse for a neurosis of mine when needed. In conclusion: me crazy, you awesome. Please don’t be offended.

Posted in It's All About Me, Love and Marriage, On A Serious Note, all in the family, just rambling