I
hate
being
a
grownup.
It's really a ridiculous concept and I'm thinking about boycotting it altogether. Never in history have people been required to work this hard. Let me explain before I get the "uphill both ways, barefoot" stories. Yes, in ages past, people worked long hours and more physically demanding jobs. But when work was over, it was over. There was time for family and big meals and sleep. Now, I literally have less than thirty minutes a day to do anything leisure related. (In fact, I should be studying right now. )My grandma's generation was lucky to get through high school in a rural town. My parents only needed a solid bachelor's degree. Now, you'll be hard pressed to find a job of any marketable value unless you have a graduate degree...which is time consuming and miserable (and I haven't even started yet).
Here's a typical day in the life of Mrs. Twentysomething:
7:30-wake up and get ready for class
8:30-2:00-class
2:30-4:00-staff meeting
4:00-5:00-finish 1/10 of my homework
5:00-6:30-make and eat dinner
6:30-7:00-clean up after dinner to some miserably insufficient extent
7:00-8:30-study for GRE and/or look for new job
9pm-9am-overnight shift at work (I get to sleep...some)
*in between I cram in whatever flash cards I can study or fold laundry that's reaching the height of a third grader.
7:00-start all over
REALLY?!?! All I want to do is get a degree in counseling so I can help people. Obviously, it is important to know what you're doing...but this pattern that is becoming more and more essential in our society is completely absurd. Our families and relationships are suffering because of unrealistic expectations regarding time and goals. Our health is taking a hit because we are short on sleep and exercise and high on stress. We have little time for friends or social events because we're always "on-call" or doing research, or working late. Where have our priorities gone? Is this really what America has become? I think it's sick honestly. The only reason I intend to put up with it is to, hopefully, end up doing what I feel passionate about, with a schedule that I WILL NOT let ruin relationships.
Even so, I always have to fight it. I can easily become enamored with the glitter and attractiveness of searching after "the good life." But, in the end...what's so good about it?
The Autumn Morning
It's a lovely morning.
I'm drinking a pumpkin spice latte and all is well in my autumnal world.
I'm feeling rather melancholy and thought of something wise that Mr. Twentysomething said the other day. Basically...people mature to the level at which their environment demands. Life circumstances are the catalyst that causes us to "grow up." He has first hand experience with this. He was essentially forced to live on his own at fifteen because of a series of unfortunate events. Thus, he has had to rise to the occasion. He wasn't given the luxury of someone taking care of him or babying him through school or college. He has worked, payed bills, and made it through college on his own. A few years ago, that was something I could never dream of doing.
This has been an interesting idea for me. I have been feeling overwhelmed with school, preparing for graduate school, working, and trying to still do the marriage thing with some amount of grace. It's all been a lot for me and my natural inclination is to be a perfectionist until I can't sustain it any longer and fall off the face of the planet or cut out some huge chunk of my life just to keep my head above water. Obviously, none of those things can just be cut out at this point in my life. So, I've been contemplating that thought and agree with him. I come from a wonderful family and one that has always supported me. I have never had to really do anything that was challenging. In fact, someone has always been there to help out if things ever got too stressful. This is my chance to use my circumstances to grow up. I have the option of falling apart and hacking out a piece of my life or stepping up. But why go without something wonderful and/or necessary when I could learn to handle stress better?
I'm not advocating taking on a multitude of activities just to prove something to yourself. In fact, I am a huge proponent for simplification (I'll probably post about that soon as well...because I've been thinking about that lately too). However, when things can't be gotten rid of (like marriage, school, and work), I challenge you to look at your situation as a chance to rise to the occasion. And by "rise to the occasion" I don't mean be the best in your career or graduate with honors. It is far more than that. It is living with integrity, kindness, and quiet trust despite what we're going through. It's about building character and putting away childish ways of reacting when we don't get what we want. We are made up of more strength than we realize and don't have to fall apart in the midst of crazy schedules or hard life circumstances.
Remember..."He has given us everything we need for life and Godliness."
Here's to a crazy, beautiful fall season.
The Perfect Weekend
I had the most lovely, wonderful weekend. Hubs and I are finally learning to speak to each other calmly. We tend to be highly over dramatic. But we've really been doing better lately. I am happy to say, that I probably won't die of a heart attack...at least not anytime soon, anyway. So we've been going along in our calm little world and topped off a good couple of weeks with a fabulous weekend. Friday was spent with friends, dinner and wine, and a wet-pants inducing game. Obviously, a no-fail combination. Then I came home to the sweetest, most romantic husband ever and, well...the night ended well ;)
Because we are poor newlyweds, we have little extra spending money. Therefore I have been recycling clothing. ie. cutting pants into shorts and reaching into the abyss of my closet to pull out clothes I haven't worn in years. All this is an effort to keep things interesting and prevent feeling like I'm wearing the same shirt four times a week. TODAY however, we went shopping. We budgeted out some money and had quite a lovely morning doing some fall shopping. I really have never been that excited for buying new things. I felt like I hit the jackpot with the few bills I had in my hand. I can't buy anything I want anymore, but the times when I do are immensely exciting. I got quite a few nice essentials. Now, if only I could convince my mom to have mercy on me and buy me a leather jacket for Christmas...
Finally, we went shopping for some Halloween decorations. This is not my idea of a good time and I'm not even really a fan of the holiday. But according to this marriage thing, I have to think about someone else now. So I let hubs get a few things. I was expecting to have hideous boy things all around...you know, cobwebs and blood. The works. Apparently I had forgotten the kind of guy I married. He's adorable. He gets so excited about holidays because his family was never the type that celebrated or decorated for anything. So here's what he chose: a sign for our door that says, "Halloween" with a cheery black cat on it; a large pumpkin figurine; a figurine of two ghosts holding a sign that says, "Boo!"; and a another Halloween sign for our table...this one has pumpkins and cats grinning away. So if you ever come see our lovely little home, you can thank Mr. Twentysomething. He's a goober..but he's my goober :)
Finally, we'll top the day off with a movie. In fact, he just walked in with pumpkin ice cream. This is what he said, "I brought home pumpkin ice cream! There's only one condition............you can't binge."
Deal.
Because we are poor newlyweds, we have little extra spending money. Therefore I have been recycling clothing. ie. cutting pants into shorts and reaching into the abyss of my closet to pull out clothes I haven't worn in years. All this is an effort to keep things interesting and prevent feeling like I'm wearing the same shirt four times a week. TODAY however, we went shopping. We budgeted out some money and had quite a lovely morning doing some fall shopping. I really have never been that excited for buying new things. I felt like I hit the jackpot with the few bills I had in my hand. I can't buy anything I want anymore, but the times when I do are immensely exciting. I got quite a few nice essentials. Now, if only I could convince my mom to have mercy on me and buy me a leather jacket for Christmas...
Finally, we went shopping for some Halloween decorations. This is not my idea of a good time and I'm not even really a fan of the holiday. But according to this marriage thing, I have to think about someone else now. So I let hubs get a few things. I was expecting to have hideous boy things all around...you know, cobwebs and blood. The works. Apparently I had forgotten the kind of guy I married. He's adorable. He gets so excited about holidays because his family was never the type that celebrated or decorated for anything. So here's what he chose: a sign for our door that says, "Halloween" with a cheery black cat on it; a large pumpkin figurine; a figurine of two ghosts holding a sign that says, "Boo!"; and a another Halloween sign for our table...this one has pumpkins and cats grinning away. So if you ever come see our lovely little home, you can thank Mr. Twentysomething. He's a goober..but he's my goober :)
Finally, we'll top the day off with a movie. In fact, he just walked in with pumpkin ice cream. This is what he said, "I brought home pumpkin ice cream! There's only one condition............you can't binge."
Deal.
The Binge
I just ate 9 cookies.
Yes, nine...well, maybe ten. I lost count.
Why? Why did I eat 9 cookies (or maybe ten)? Because I'm procrastinating and that's what I do when I procrastinate. And it all goes downhill from there. One cookie turns into nine (or ten), then I'm researching weight loss techniques which leads me to thenest.com. The Nest is filled with subscribers venting their woes of marital weight gain. I feel better because all of you are sweet whores too. And now I'm blogging. It's a vicious cycle, but I justify it because I haven't posted in quite some time.
What is it with girls and sweets?! God forbid I do something else enjoyable! I should have just skipped right to blogging, and avoided 5 extra pounds. But instead, I scarf down as many cookies as possible as though I'm trying to break the world record.
So, what is it that I'm trying to avoid...studying for the GRE. Shocked? Yes, that's right...I have decided to apply to graduate school. A few weeks ago, I decided that I would apply to the Marriage and Family Therapy program. So far so good. I have a couple good references, have been going to GRE workshops, and have a killer resume. The nine cookie debacle is my first road block. Other potential obstacles include:
-There is only one accredited program in the state
-Hubs informing me that, "I don't want you to go to graduate school....who will cook for me?" (He was kidding...mostly)
-I really enjoy not studying
-This could get in the way of other hobbies...sleeping and eating cookies
-I may gain 15 pounds before I actually turn my application in
-We will likely be pretty poor in grad school. (At least I have the comfort of knowing that, if worse came to worse, I could always enter an eating contest).
However, these are fairly minor obstacles and, in all actuality, I am thrilled with my decision. I think it's a really good career path for me. So, nearly two hours later, I'm off to study. Don't worry, I already ate all the cookies...so I should get a lot done ;)
Yes, nine...well, maybe ten. I lost count.
Why? Why did I eat 9 cookies (or maybe ten)? Because I'm procrastinating and that's what I do when I procrastinate. And it all goes downhill from there. One cookie turns into nine (or ten), then I'm researching weight loss techniques which leads me to thenest.com. The Nest is filled with subscribers venting their woes of marital weight gain. I feel better because all of you are sweet whores too. And now I'm blogging. It's a vicious cycle, but I justify it because I haven't posted in quite some time.
What is it with girls and sweets?! God forbid I do something else enjoyable! I should have just skipped right to blogging, and avoided 5 extra pounds. But instead, I scarf down as many cookies as possible as though I'm trying to break the world record.
So, what is it that I'm trying to avoid...studying for the GRE. Shocked? Yes, that's right...I have decided to apply to graduate school. A few weeks ago, I decided that I would apply to the Marriage and Family Therapy program. So far so good. I have a couple good references, have been going to GRE workshops, and have a killer resume. The nine cookie debacle is my first road block. Other potential obstacles include:
-There is only one accredited program in the state
-Hubs informing me that, "I don't want you to go to graduate school....who will cook for me?" (He was kidding...mostly)
-I really enjoy not studying
-This could get in the way of other hobbies...sleeping and eating cookies
-I may gain 15 pounds before I actually turn my application in
-We will likely be pretty poor in grad school. (At least I have the comfort of knowing that, if worse came to worse, I could always enter an eating contest).
However, these are fairly minor obstacles and, in all actuality, I am thrilled with my decision. I think it's a really good career path for me. So, nearly two hours later, I'm off to study. Don't worry, I already ate all the cookies...so I should get a lot done ;)
The Essay
So I haven't written in a long time. That's because I have been focusing my writing energy toward an essay contest for a major magazine. I had a lot of fun with it and think it turned out pretty well. The topic was "When did you know that you were an adult." So, without further ado, here is my essay. It's about three and a half pages....so if you stay with me then God bless you!
An Inner Strength
by Mary Gibbons
For me, the line separating childhood from adulthood has been a blurry one. I grew up amid circumstances that require one to grow up at a young age; not only in the bigger things, but in the little events as well. Let me set the stage: I am the younger of two daughters and, by the time I came along, my parents were fairly unhappily married. As I have gotten older, I have increasingly learned just how unhappy. My sister was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia when she was eleven and I was only seven. The stress of doctor visits, hospitalizations, and emotional breakdowns only made tensions worse. By the time I was fifteen, my aging grandparents had moved in with us so my mom could care for them. Shortly thereafter, my grandfather died. Providence scoffed. Dear Mary, welcome to your life.
By no means was my life awful. The ending, in fact, has been truly remarkable. Let me go ahead and ruin the ending: my parents ended up happily ever after, my sister is now engaged to a wonderful man, and I never ended up in the loony bin. However, it is not the end that I wish to talk about. It is the middle, those years in between. It was those things that helped define my life and mark the distinction between youth and adulthood. In my life, the distinction was this: emotional independence.
As a child, I would likely be described as sweet, quiet, or responsible. I was the prototypical, “student of the month.” Being structured and serious was part of how I tried to control some of the chaos going on around me, a venture that cost me in the long run. A huge amount of my security and mental well-being rested in whether or not things going on around me were manageable. Circumstances and people dictated my thoughts and feelings. One can imagine that in a family of shaky marital standing and mental illness, this proved to be a problem. But my mom was my savior. She did exactly what a mother is supposed to do: protect her children. She did an incredible job at sheltering me from the emotional upset that came along with the environment that I was in. I saw little discord between her and my father. She always talked positively to us about him and encouraged our interaction. As far as my sister goes, I only have a dim memory of ever seeing her in a critical state. Yes, my childhood was a happy one. Herein lies the problem. My mom was so intent on protecting me from hardship, she tended to cater to my emotional needs. My lunch boxes always had little encouraging notes. She would be short on sleep so she could talk with me late into the night about some dreadful crisis involving a yearbook picture and see-through shirt. She even did my laundry until college, just so I wouldn’t have anything else to “worry” about. She was a fabulous mom and a best friend, but my emotional dependence on her caused some problems as I ventured out into the world.
When I headed off to college, I was in for a major culture shock. Suddenly, there was no alarm clock to rub my back in the morning. It had tragically been replaced with a hideous little white box, callously beeping at me to get out of bed. No longer could I depend on home cooked meals or laundry service. I existed on frozen dinners and laundromats. The world was not warm and cozy, but cold and indifferent to my emotional needs. I was no longer the center of the universe…and I hated it.
It wasn’t just the small things that were affected by my need to control my environment. The most detrimental way that this problem played itself out was in my relationships. With an idealistic view of how people should behave and respond to me, I was often left disappointed. Any form of rejection took its toll on my self-esteem. I had a strong idea of what life should look like. These “shoulds” ruled my thoughts and, consequently, my behaviors. I avoided certain situations and saying certain things. If people don’t have the chance to get to know me, they can’t reject me, and I won’t feel inadequate. Likewise, if I don’t take risks, I won’t fail and I won’t feel bad. I don’t want to feel bad. Ever. It came to my attention that the driving goal of my life is to be comfortable. In spite of hardship as a child, my mom always made sure I was comfortable.
There came a point, a most defining point, which marked my initiation into adulthood. It was when I acknowledged that this goal and my strategy for life were not working. Rejection and lack of control over various circumstances in one’s life are inevitable. As long as I try to prevent this, I will never be happy. I had to come up with a new strategy.
It was really very simple, but much harder to implement than it would seem at first glance. I chose to take responsibility for my own thoughts and actions. Life is in a perpetual state of change. People come and go. Careers fail. Love breathes new life. Winds change. My source of joy and contentment cannot be founded on circumstance. And it most certainly cannot be grounded in the approval of others. This most distinctly characterizes childhood. A child lives their life for pleasure; the ice cream truck, happy-meal toys, and birthday parties. If the ice cream man doesn’t come, they freely express their anger. An adult, on the other hand, takes deliberate control of his or her thoughts and actions. They understand that trials and discomfort are a part of the learning experience and make the joys of the mountain top worth the trip in the valley. But, like I said, after years of having the tides of circumstance and peoples’ approval toss my emotions to and fro, it is often still a challenge to make emotional independence a reality. It is a reality, however, that I am not willing to give up on. The joy I have come to experience when external forces have little bearing on my well-being has proven to be an enduring and stable source of comfort. It dispels the mediocre life and prompts vision and action, with little thought of disapproval from others.
For when has mediocrity ever resulted in greatness? When have dreams been achieved while avoiding disappointment or rejection? Those who make an impression on the world are those that are fearless. Adulthood is not without fear, but brave in spite of fears. Childhood cowers in the face of fear. Adulthood doesn’t settle for comfortable. It sees its limitations and does something to change it. Childhood waits for someone else to change things. Adulthood understands setbacks to be a source of learning and strength. Childhood crumbles under the weight of disappointment. Adulthood acknowledges that life is about more than its small piece of space. Childhood demands attention. Adulthood is more than your number of years. It is a claim of emotional independence. It is an intentional choice that accepts responsibility, takes action, endures momentary discomfort, and inspires greatness.
“This is the true joy of life: being used up for a purpose, recognized by yourself as a mighty one; being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clot of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.” -George Bernard Shaw
The Ugly Truth
I have never realized what a girl I was. I mean, obviously I am biologically female...but I was always kind of viewed myself as the exception to the nurturing, needs-affection kind of girl.
I was wrong.
It's all started to come out now that I have a boy...a point of reference, if you will. As I mentioned before, I grew up in a fairly matriarchal household. Even my pets were female. All of my best friends have been female. I was pretty stand off-ish when it came to guys, unless they approached me first. Therefore, it wasn't until college that I really started having more substantial friendships with guys.
The first thing that stood out to me was how much they eat. It's shocking really. My husband eats twice as much as me. He's like a two year old. It's been a challenge learning to feed him. No longer can I make my signature Spinach Quiche. I gotta throw some cow on the side. RIP Shells and Cheese! Rarely can dinners be whipped up quickly...it always requires roasting, grilling, or marinating.
Anyway, I digress....This was just the beginning of my confusion. Like I was saying, the real shock came when I began to realize the other striking differences between men and women. I have a strong willed personality. When something is not "as it should be," I challenge it. This trait led me to believe that I would have no mothering skills whatsoever. Everyone knows a dominant woman is a poor mother. Turns out, now that I have a boy, I weep constantly. Clearly, I'll be a terrific mom. Rest at ease.
The truth is, I never had the opportunity to take care of something. Being the baby of the family and so protected by my mom, nurturing was something that people did for me, not vice versa. It wasn't until I've had to take care of this massive two year old that I realize it's really down in there. I began cooking and cleaning more. I give massages and lend a listening ear. I snuggle like I've never snuggled before. And I absolutely love it! It's really comforting initially, but it kind of opened another "girly" door that I'm not so thrilled about.
Pandora's box: Hi, my name is Mrs.TwentySomething and I am an affection addict.
We've all heard it: men want sex, women want affection. I am all woman. I kind of always promised myself that I wouldn't be that girl. Well, all you ladies out there that think you're the exception...you might be. But for the REST of us 90%, it's programmed in. We want it and will often not be on the same page as our partner. I've been finding myself to resorting to those infamous feminine wiles to get my drug. Sometimes it's affective. Other times, it leads to my third finding....
Men really are clueless. The just don't get it. They don't notice things like girls. Here was our conversation today:
Him: Hi. How was your day?
Me: Good (upset that he's not noticing my dark eye makeup)
Him: What's wrong?
Me: Nothing
Him: Okay
----30 minutes later-----
Him: Are you sure you're okay?
Me: (tears)
Him: I didn't know!
Me: How could you not know!
They just don't get it. Apparently he wants me to tell him explicitly what I want from him. Go figure. So girls, cut them some slack. Obviously I need some work in that department as well. Luckily, I have a great guy who truly does try. We're learning that I have to give up the whole mysterious-youshouldbeabletoreadmymind thing and he has to learn to listen to my feelings even if he doesn't "get it".
It's the age old struggle. Mars vs. Venus. The world may never know.
I was wrong.
It's all started to come out now that I have a boy...a point of reference, if you will. As I mentioned before, I grew up in a fairly matriarchal household. Even my pets were female. All of my best friends have been female. I was pretty stand off-ish when it came to guys, unless they approached me first. Therefore, it wasn't until college that I really started having more substantial friendships with guys.
The first thing that stood out to me was how much they eat. It's shocking really. My husband eats twice as much as me. He's like a two year old. It's been a challenge learning to feed him. No longer can I make my signature Spinach Quiche. I gotta throw some cow on the side. RIP Shells and Cheese! Rarely can dinners be whipped up quickly...it always requires roasting, grilling, or marinating.
Anyway, I digress....This was just the beginning of my confusion. Like I was saying, the real shock came when I began to realize the other striking differences between men and women. I have a strong willed personality. When something is not "as it should be," I challenge it. This trait led me to believe that I would have no mothering skills whatsoever. Everyone knows a dominant woman is a poor mother. Turns out, now that I have a boy, I weep constantly. Clearly, I'll be a terrific mom. Rest at ease.
The truth is, I never had the opportunity to take care of something. Being the baby of the family and so protected by my mom, nurturing was something that people did for me, not vice versa. It wasn't until I've had to take care of this massive two year old that I realize it's really down in there. I began cooking and cleaning more. I give massages and lend a listening ear. I snuggle like I've never snuggled before. And I absolutely love it! It's really comforting initially, but it kind of opened another "girly" door that I'm not so thrilled about.
Pandora's box: Hi, my name is Mrs.TwentySomething and I am an affection addict.
We've all heard it: men want sex, women want affection. I am all woman. I kind of always promised myself that I wouldn't be that girl. Well, all you ladies out there that think you're the exception...you might be. But for the REST of us 90%, it's programmed in. We want it and will often not be on the same page as our partner. I've been finding myself to resorting to those infamous feminine wiles to get my drug. Sometimes it's affective. Other times, it leads to my third finding....
Men really are clueless. The just don't get it. They don't notice things like girls. Here was our conversation today:
Him: Hi. How was your day?
Me: Good (upset that he's not noticing my dark eye makeup)
Him: What's wrong?
Me: Nothing
Him: Okay
----30 minutes later-----
Him: Are you sure you're okay?
Me: (tears)
Him: I didn't know!
Me: How could you not know!
They just don't get it. Apparently he wants me to tell him explicitly what I want from him. Go figure. So girls, cut them some slack. Obviously I need some work in that department as well. Luckily, I have a great guy who truly does try. We're learning that I have to give up the whole mysterious-youshouldbeabletoreadmymind thing and he has to learn to listen to my feelings even if he doesn't "get it".
It's the age old struggle. Mars vs. Venus. The world may never know.
The "dumb" Decision
Random fact of the day: According to a study published by the Journal of Family Psychology, 70 percent of U.S. couples live together before marriage.
Apparently, I am in the minority in that I did not live with my husband before we were married. I had no idea how absurd this was. It wasn't until I was chatting with two coworkers, that are also twenty-somethings, that it occurred to me. Both ladies are currently living with their boyfriends. When they found out that I had not lived with Mr. TwentySomething before we were married, they looked at each other like I had just answered their question in Chinese. They both scoffingly agreed that one simply must live with their partner first, otherwise you are doomed to discover one annoying habit after another. They further concluded that, "there are things you don't know about the other person until you live together." The implication is, of course, that if you find your roommate to be unbearable, you can bail before it's "too late" (and I use that term loosely, which I'll address later).
Let me give you some quick background information about my two counselors. One has lived with multiple men and is now a single mom of a toddler. The other is living with her boyfriend whom, she later informs me, she finds terribly obnoxious. When I ask why she's living with him, she responds with a laugh, "my mom loves him and I don't have to pay rent." The poor slob is in love with her and stands no chance of a future because of the bliss of cohabitation.
Okay, okay...so maybe I should have expected this from fellow twenty-somethings of the 21st century, but I had another shock coming. I was in a staff meeting the following week and was chatting with four or five women in their 40s and 50s. The same question arose, "Mary, did you live with your husband before you were married?" Upon answering the question, there was another eruption of "enlightened" responses. The ladies agreed that if they had known the things their husbands do before they were married, they never would have married them. Then came the vent-fest of all the annoying habits of their men.
This is just the beginning though. As I mentioned before, I used the term "too late" in reference to getting hitched to someone you later regret. The term assumes that there is no way out once you've made this poor decision to marry without living together. It seems rather ironic to me, however, given the fact that not only is cohabitation so prominent, divorce is rampant and largely accepted in American culture. There is nothing "too late" about it. If you made a mistake, it is relatively simple to fix. There's no shame in having "irreconcilable differences." You simply didn't get what was advertised, it's their own fault really.
Call me young or naive but marriage should not be a trial basis. That is not what love is. That is ultimately selfish. Dating and living together is like shopping...you are in it to find the person that makes you the most happy and can benefit you the most. If they fall short, kick em to the curb. You deserve better than that. Wedding vows mean nothing anymore. They have become nothing more than a boring part of a ceremony that, in all actuality, revolves around the elaborate party and dress. I am not saying that people should not look for someone that they enjoy being with. I found a great, fun guy that I am thrilled to be with. He does, however annoy me at times. He plays video-games constantly. He sings really loud. He complains about eating the lunches I pack for him (apparently he doesn't like eating turkey sandwiches every day of his life). But my love for him is not based on him fulfilling my every desire and being a farcical knight in shining armor. Love is a choice. It says, I will love you no matter what. No matter how hard things get or how much you annoy me, I chose you. Everyone else in the world might find something wrong with you, but I will love you in spite of your shortcomings. Really think about it. How many people in your life love you like that? Wouldn't you rather find someone that truly loved you unconditionally? Wouldn't it be incredible to not feel like you have to watch your p's and q's?
It can be done. It is not some mythical dream. It is hard and it might not happen perfectly, but it's real. My parents have shown me that. They have been married 33 years now and it has not been an easy journey. There have been legit counseling sessions, repaired hearts, and deep emotional hurt...but they have shown me what it means to truly love someone. And that was modeled after an even more perfect love...Christ.
Apparently, I am in the minority in that I did not live with my husband before we were married. I had no idea how absurd this was. It wasn't until I was chatting with two coworkers, that are also twenty-somethings, that it occurred to me. Both ladies are currently living with their boyfriends. When they found out that I had not lived with Mr. TwentySomething before we were married, they looked at each other like I had just answered their question in Chinese. They both scoffingly agreed that one simply must live with their partner first, otherwise you are doomed to discover one annoying habit after another. They further concluded that, "there are things you don't know about the other person until you live together." The implication is, of course, that if you find your roommate to be unbearable, you can bail before it's "too late" (and I use that term loosely, which I'll address later).
Let me give you some quick background information about my two counselors. One has lived with multiple men and is now a single mom of a toddler. The other is living with her boyfriend whom, she later informs me, she finds terribly obnoxious. When I ask why she's living with him, she responds with a laugh, "my mom loves him and I don't have to pay rent." The poor slob is in love with her and stands no chance of a future because of the bliss of cohabitation.
Okay, okay...so maybe I should have expected this from fellow twenty-somethings of the 21st century, but I had another shock coming. I was in a staff meeting the following week and was chatting with four or five women in their 40s and 50s. The same question arose, "Mary, did you live with your husband before you were married?" Upon answering the question, there was another eruption of "enlightened" responses. The ladies agreed that if they had known the things their husbands do before they were married, they never would have married them. Then came the vent-fest of all the annoying habits of their men.
This is just the beginning though. As I mentioned before, I used the term "too late" in reference to getting hitched to someone you later regret. The term assumes that there is no way out once you've made this poor decision to marry without living together. It seems rather ironic to me, however, given the fact that not only is cohabitation so prominent, divorce is rampant and largely accepted in American culture. There is nothing "too late" about it. If you made a mistake, it is relatively simple to fix. There's no shame in having "irreconcilable differences." You simply didn't get what was advertised, it's their own fault really.
Call me young or naive but marriage should not be a trial basis. That is not what love is. That is ultimately selfish. Dating and living together is like shopping...you are in it to find the person that makes you the most happy and can benefit you the most. If they fall short, kick em to the curb. You deserve better than that. Wedding vows mean nothing anymore. They have become nothing more than a boring part of a ceremony that, in all actuality, revolves around the elaborate party and dress. I am not saying that people should not look for someone that they enjoy being with. I found a great, fun guy that I am thrilled to be with. He does, however annoy me at times. He plays video-games constantly. He sings really loud. He complains about eating the lunches I pack for him (apparently he doesn't like eating turkey sandwiches every day of his life). But my love for him is not based on him fulfilling my every desire and being a farcical knight in shining armor. Love is a choice. It says, I will love you no matter what. No matter how hard things get or how much you annoy me, I chose you. Everyone else in the world might find something wrong with you, but I will love you in spite of your shortcomings. Really think about it. How many people in your life love you like that? Wouldn't you rather find someone that truly loved you unconditionally? Wouldn't it be incredible to not feel like you have to watch your p's and q's?
It can be done. It is not some mythical dream. It is hard and it might not happen perfectly, but it's real. My parents have shown me that. They have been married 33 years now and it has not been an easy journey. There have been legit counseling sessions, repaired hearts, and deep emotional hurt...but they have shown me what it means to truly love someone. And that was modeled after an even more perfect love...Christ.
