notes from the married front (part one)

So this has been my dilemma this past several months.  I don't like writing any less than I did when I was posting daily... but have been incredibly reticent to write like I used to.  For one, my stories nearly always tend to involve this whole other person in them.  This person is very open with me, but tends to be far more private with the rest of the world than I am.  He gave me permission when we were first married to continue to be myself with the blog, that is, to continue to write just like I used to.  After all, he said, in the beginning, it was my writing on the blog -- one post in particular --that brought about the big email that started us on our way to where we are now.  (Crazy, huh?). 

I've always had permission, I've just been hesitant to use it.

That, and I've wondered sometimes if life now is all that interesting.  Most of my pals here online are single.  I wasn't sure if life now is anything one would want to read about.  A single friend recently encouraged me that it's kind of fun reading about the married antics, that it's actually kind of encouraging, given how many marriages don't sound all that fun.

So here I am.  Few thoughts buzzing around, some things I've been learning (learning, always always learning!).

Before I jump into this, the disclaimer: I've been married a little more than eight months at this point.  I don't know much.  Newly marrieds are often idealistic, and no couple more so than J and I -- an INFJ and an ENFJ respectively.  (We did some study on personality type before we were married, and had to laugh as we were reading about the category we both fall into -- the idealists.  It was weird to basically see many of our tendencies spelled out.  I highly recommend giving these tests a go -- they're pretty amazing, and it's just fun to learn more about yourself.) 

But the deal is -- I know that I don't know it all.  Or even most of it.  I just want to share some of the things I'm learning, some of the things I'm trying to figure out.  Etc., etc.

******

As a single person, whenever I'd see the man in black and the woman in white walk back down the aisle out of the church, grinning ear to ear, I'd sigh a little to myself.  There they go, off into their happily-ever-after.  And here I am.  Still on my own.

The thought would soon pass -- until some goofy older guy would ask when I'd get myself a man, at which point I'd console myself with some cake -- but I'm not that far this side of the altar that I don't remember what that felt like sometimes.  To be envying them just a little, even as you're trying so hard not to.  To be doubting God a little or a lot, even as you're trying to trust that he knows you, that he knows what's best and how to bring that about.

I'll never forget my friend Grace's wedding.  I have been friends with Grace and Andy since their beginnings as a couple, and couldn't have been more ecstatic that their big day had finally come, or more honored to be a bridesmaid.  After the wedding, they had a lovely reception.  Except -- I had no one to sit with.  I had assumed that there was a table set aside for the bridal party, as had my parents, so they didn't save me a spot.  There wasn't a table set aside.  I ended up awkwardly pulling up a chair at a table half-full of people I'd never met before in my life, sitting there feeling lonely and sad and inwardly cursing the guy who had recently dumped me.  I ended up getting over it and haltingly asking the table of eight with all my friends (and their boyfriends) in it to make it a table of nine, which they gladly did, thank God.  Grace and Andy have been married two years and I still remember exactly how that felt.  Awful.

Before I was married, I had a tendency to fully idealize the couple.  It's not hard to do.  Candlelight is flickering, vows are being spoken, she's never looked lovelier and he's never looked more happy.  I assumed that they were all headed for their happily-ever-after. 

A lot of them weren't, in the end.  I know people not married much longer than J and I who are most likely going to get a divorce.  I know others that just don't seem like they're enjoying life with each other very much.

One of the things I see here on the other side of the fence here in Marriageland is that being married doesn't make you compatible, or good friends/playmates, or respectful, or self-sacrificing, or a good match.  It definitely doesn't make you perfect.  It just makes you bound for life.  I used to think that everyone who was married had entered that state because they were brilliant companions for each other.  It's not necessarily the case.

The truth is that we have to learn how to be those things for each other.   Some have a much harder time of it.  I believe that some marriages are somewhat ill-advised due to the reasons for the marriage (the white dress is not a good one) and the compatibility of the people entering it -- but the fact is that no matter how great a match a couple is when they begin, not one of them is exempt from making adjustments, big and small, for the sake of their marriage.  It's part of the deal.

Now, I have to be honest here and say that when I walked down the aisle, I walked toward the only man that I wanted to share my life with.  I feel like I've won the lottery in that department.  I've said it before, but I still can't believe this is my life.  When people complain about their husbands, I can't really relate.  I married a great guy.  I'm happier than I've ever been, and I know how good I have it.  Justin gets haircuts a little more often than he did before, and he has fewer holes in his T-shirts, but he's essentially the same man I married, and I wouldn't have it any other way.  I'm sure I've changed in small ways, but I'm essentially the same girl who walked down the aisle to Justin.

Some of the not-great things about me haven't changed, either -- as much as I wish they were totally different -- those kinds of softenings tend to happen by degrees over time.  One of the things that gives me such peace is when I apologize for some moment of not-at-my-best-ness.  Justin's response is usually something like this: "Buddy, I know you.  I knew you when I married you.  I knew this was what I was signing up for.  And it's okay.  We're okay.  I love you."

Yeah, I'm not kidding when I say that I have it really good.

We make adjustments, but in most cases who we are -- our deep-down tendencies and preferences -- that doesn't change to a great degree.  Justin tries to be a good sport, but I see an antsy look in his eyes when we've hit our third store in the mall -- so if I'm headed out for a big trip, I go on my own.  I have learned to appreciate and enjoy football -- profootballtalk.com and nfl.com are now a regular stops of mine -- but Justin knows I'm only good for about one game on a Sunday, unless there's a BIG one other than the Seahawks, in which case we'll watch two.  Although we try hard, sometimes we don't communicate like we want to.  Sometimes I respond emotionally and get overly feisty. Sometimes Justin doesn't know where the line is when he's jokingly provoking me. 

Just this past week we abruptly finished a pool game when I was highly oversensitive to Justin's post-win taunt.  But seriously!  The guy's ape-like arms are a huge advantage, and I'd been struggling!  It was a major improvement over when we were playing poker heads-up and I got so mad at being bullied that I threw all my cards at Justin, though, so I'm impressed at our growth.  

Yes, that bump is funny now.  We're headed down to the pool hall later this week to give it another go. 

The point is, we're not perfect.  Sometimes petty things don't seem so small at the moment, and sometimes it takes a while before these things become funny.  But Justin and I have benefited from the fact that we knew each other well before we took the leap, and although there have been a few surprises, we knew for the most part what we were signing up for, and the good stuff so clearly outweighed any potential difficulties that it wasn't hard to choose the whole package. 

Even in the moments when the difficulties rear their head, we remember this.  And there's a very real, tangible grace there.  Justin's stuff isn't all that scary to me.  Mine isn't all that bad to him.  We're learning how to support each other where the other is weak, how to cheer each other on in our strengths.  No one's keeping score.  And we're finding Team Lawlis quite the team.

One of the best things I've learned during this first season of our marriage is that the bumps we hit aren't as scary as I thought they'd be when we first began our marriage.  When you first get married, you DREAD that first argument, those initial misunderstandings.  You want to do it all right, never mess up.  But the bumps have actually brought some very deep peace, because, while those occasionally messy moments aren't fun, they teach you that you don't have to be perfect all the time to have a happy marriage.  You find that love and grace really do exist, that you don't have to achieve perfection to live in their embrace.

When we've hit our little newlywed bumps, I've never once doubted that I chose the very best for myself when I chose Justin.  The bumps confirm it.  There is no one I'd rather be learning all this stuff with -- no one who forgives so easy or whom I find so easy to forgive.  And the rest of the time -- which is the great majority of the time -- I'm having more fun than I've ever had, whether we're laughing at each other as we talk or we're just all snuggled up in bed (sometimes this is one and the same scenario).

Not perfect.  Perfect for each other.  Not quite the cliche I always thought it was.

I'll write more about this marriage craziness when I can.  I'm excited to finally have given myself permission to write about this journey, but also know it's not really advisable to do it all in one post, so goodbye for now.