Dorie Morgan’s Rising Up
Navigating Twenty-Something Suburban Life
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Archive of "marriage" Category
Happy Anniversary: One year down, the rest of our lives to go.
Today is my first wedding anniversary. Somehow, Brian and I have survived our first year of marriage with no visible scarring and still like each other. The still liking each other part is important. Sometimes I remind him that I promised to always love him but I made no such promises about always liking him.
Comments like that are usually met with some response regarding him always liking me. I don’t think that is true. I have a tendency to do really stupid things. Fortunately, he is much more mellow than I am and much more forgiving.
Between the two of us, we make one very balanced and reasonable person.
Brian and I never dated before we decided to get married (well, we had one date and then the next day, his mother died). We also only knew each other for about three months before we announced our engagement. And for two of those months, I tried to think of Brian as “Kelly’s little brother” and refused to learn his name.
I have always been a firm believer that when you know, you know. It’s that simple. If you don’t know at the end of three months if you want to marry the other person or not, you’ll never want to marry that person. You could convince yourself to marry that person but it isn’t really your desire.
Dating is highly over rated. And it isn’t very effective either. Dinner and a movie can only tell you so much about a person. And most of us try to put on a good face for dating – you hide how crazy your family really is and you pretend that you normally shave your legs everyday. Eventually, the façade has to come down and you have to decide if you really like or even love the person lurking behind the façade or if it was all just a waste of your time.
What Brian and I had was a courtship. For us, a courtship consisted of about a week’s worth of heavy, serious conversations about what we wanted from ourselves, from our lives and from each other. It was intense and it was scary. But, I can honestly say that during the first year of marriage, there were no surprises as to who the other person was.
By having a courtship, Brian and I opted for the slow burning love that we often discount as boring. We decided that it was more important to have an enduring marriage than just sparks at the beginning.
You have to really know what your priorities are in order to have a sustainable marriage. It isn’t something that you can just walk into blind. I spend a lot of time wondering about other couples – after the initial spark is gone, are they as happy as Brian and I are? What makes those marriages last?
Is blood thicker than water?
My mother gives me a lot of unsolicited advice when it comes to married life. I suppose it’s a natural and overwhelming urge for her to pass on these gems of wisdom. Nine times out of ten, I strongly disagree with what she believes to be true, which is making me wonder how I lived in the same house as this woman from birth until adulthood.
Lately, the advice has been relating to interacting with his family. Since I am an only child and an only grandchild (yes, I know I blogged about my cousin last week but she’s actually my step-cousin), I need all the advice I can get when it comes to interacting with siblings. While I spent the first 24 years of my life learning how to be quiet by myself, Brian learned how to survive having 3 older sisters.
When it comes to healthy family relationships, I am in over my head.
So my mom gives me advice to make up for the fact that reproduction is not my family’s strong point. She seems to think that if she passes on enough pieces of truth from her own life, it will make up for some of the confusion in my own life.
But really, her advice is just getting under my skin. “Blood is thicker than water” is her favorite phrase to utter over the phone during my commute home.
The way I catch myself interpreting her advice is that biological family ties will be the bonds that trump all other bonds. I’m not sure that is what she really means but it is what I keep hearing. And in my life, there are so many things wrong with that mentality.
For example: I don’t know who my birth father is. Despite the fact that he was married to my mother when I was both conceived and born, I have not seen him since I was six months old. In my house, we don’t talk about it. I don’t know what he looks like and no one will answer my questions. Which then leaves the question: If blood is truly thicker than water, is the blood flowing through my veins just really crappy? Is it less bonding than other blood?
Take another example: My step dad adopted me when I was thirteen. I’ve called him “Daddy” since the day he married my mother. He gave me away when I married Brian. But despite a slight resemblance, I share no genetic material with the man I identify as my father. There is no “blood” between us. If blood is truly thicker than water, does an adopted child only have a chance at a deep relationship when they grow up and have kids of their own?
But more troubling, my mom’s advice makes me think of baby boomers and the waves of divorce I have watched my friends survive. Even as adults, the experience of watching their parents divorce has shaken the world they live in. And the shared blood through their children still was not enough to make things work.
If blood truly is thicker than water, how does a marriage survive and thrive? Will sibling relationships always take the cake for closeness?
And then I wonder about my life and my marriage. And I wonder about the world of twenty somethings and their budding marriages. Will our ability to learn from our parents’ mistakes enable us to change the face of American marriage? Could we decide as a generation to make the difference between family and friends irrelevant?
Are you liberated by your marriage?
When Brian and I first decided to get married, I hated my job. Actually, I probably hated 90% of my life but it was easier to focus that energy at hating my job. But I felt stuck. I needed the money too much to quit working but I didn’t really have the time to devote to a job search. And my job made it next to impossible to take time off to interview.
I spent a lot of time crying because of it. But crying didn’t help me at all. It didn’t give me more money. It didn’t help me find a new job. All crying did was make me hate my job even more.
I was stuck. And I got to the point of stuck where I didn’t know how to become unstuck.
But this is where marriage steps in. I’ve been extremely blessed by the support and the liberation that my marriage has given me. Brian picked up my bills so I could quit that god awful job and hunt for something I truly loved. That might not seem like a big deal, but when Sallie Mae owns you to the tune of 1k+ each month, having a stretch of freedom is amazing.
A lot of times, we think of marriage as commitment and divorce as liberation from that commitment. But what if we changed the way we look at marriage? What if we start to think of marriage as opportunity? What if marriage liberates you from your fears? By changing our views of the institution of marriage, are we capable of changing its impact in our lives?
The fear of failure is still there for me but at the same time, its hold isn’t any where near as strong. Brian’s support liberates me to make choices that would be just too risky if I was single. And his support goes beyond financial. The emotional support he provides during times of stress and challenges is far more than what my family is capable of providing to me on a regular basis.
At the end of the day, I’m left with this: If your relationship does not uplift you and support you, why are you in that relationship? And if you are not capable for providing that same support to your partner, why not?
Why you are actually reading about my husband
I blog about a lot of things.
I blog about work. I blog about my health. I blog about current events. I blog about my relationship with God. I blog about everything.
But really, this blog is about my marriage.
Even when I don’t write about it, it all comes back to my marriage.
Why?
My relationship with my husband is the single most important relationship in my life. It influences every decision I make. When I make a decision about what career path to follow, I am thinking about my husband. When I am seeking medical treatment, I think about how my treatment will affect my husband. When I look at CNN in the morning before work, I am thinking about, that’s right, my husband.
Brian is my priority.
And I don’t anticipate this changing. Even when we have kids, my husband will continue to be my highest priority. Why? Because we can always make more kids. I cannot recreate my husband.
Brian is the family I picked. I looked at him and decided that not only did I want to be in his tribe but I wanted to make our own little tribe with him. I wanted to create a life together.
Jobs will come and go. Friends will move on. Parents will (hopefully) die before I do. Politics will change. Current events will become history. Fads will fade and pop culture will be forgotten.
Brian will be the man I grow old next to. My wrinkly old hand will someday be patting my husband’s wrinkly old butt. And that’s the way I want it.
My commitment to Brian and Brian’s commitment to me is the most influencing factor in our lives. Everything will always come back to my marriage.
Why my husband’s low point is really a marriage high point
Over the weekend, I had the pleasure of seeing my husband in the bad-drunk category. It started off cute enough – he told me how beautiful and wonderful and smart and sexy I am and how much he loves me. Then he passed out. Then he woke up. Then he leaned over and puked all over me. Then he smashed his head on the wall and knocked himself out for about five minutes. Then he woke up, puked some more and sat in bed for a while.
In hindsight, I probably should have taken him right to the hospital to have his stomach pumped but I was concerned about the cost. At this point in our careers, we don’t have the income for hospital visits in non life or death situations. But in the five minutes where Brian was knocked out, I questioned whether or not I would be able to save his life if he began to choke on his own vomit. Thankfully, I never had to find out.
The point of this is not that my husband is a drunk – he’s not and when he tells me this was the first time he got sick from alcohol, I believe him. The point of this is that in marriage, you end up in a lot of places you never thought you would be.
I never thought I would spend twenty hours cleaning up vomit. But from two in the morning on Sunday until ten o’clock that night, cleaning it up was what I did. Brian probably never thought his wife would be coaching him through a shower and forcing him to drink water. But we did it. He also probably never thought that I would be waking him up at eight on a Sunday morning because I was mad at him for being drunk, but I did. Because if I had to suffer, he did too.
It is only during the unpleasant moments of marriage that we truly realize how much we love our mates and how much we actually are capable of doing. In college, I was notorious for what I called a “death fear of vomit”. I made girls in my sorority house who were sick (whether it be from booze or a stomach bug) go to the basement bathroom to throw up because the mere knowledge that vomit was happening near me was enough to push me over the edge. Yet somehow in the early hours on Sunday, I learned that I could survive. My urge to care for my husband was stronger than my own urge to throw up everywhere, although not by much (once a sympathy puker, always a sympathy puker).
Marriage is not always pleasant, although Disney would have you believe otherwise. Prince Charming does some dumb-ass things from time to time. The true test of the strength of a marriage is not whether or not the poor decisions happen but the way you cope with those decisions the next day.
Besides, it is only a matter of time until I do something dumb too.
PS – Taco Hell, I mean Bell and cheap Canadian whiskey are always a bad idea.
Why I Don’t Celebrate Valentine’s Day (here’s a hint: It involves a dead rat)
Last year, my husband experienced Valentine’s Day for the first time on this side of a relationship as he had always been single before then. He tried to warn me in the months before the holiday that he had never celebrated Valentine’s Day, he didn’t see the point of it and he did not want to celebrate. I thought I could utilize the skills I learned in premarital counseling and compromise by purchasing cards for each other instead of gifts. It seemed like such a good idea.
When Valentine’s Day arrived, we stayed in. It snowed so we played hooky from work. We made breakfast together. We lounged in bed. We had dinner together and shared a bottle of wine. Then it was time for the card exchange.
My dear sweet husband bought me a card with a dead rat on it. Nothing says romance like a rodent. And since I was drunk, I cried. I questioned whether or not we should get married. I got so worked up that Brian ruined an upcoming surprise to try to make me happier. I still cried about the dead rat.
We may have ended the evening by sleeping in separate rooms.
This year, I am not celebrating Valentine’s Day.
Let’s be honest for a moment: I know I am an individual with high expectations. I set these expectations for myself, for others and for inanimate objects. My husband does not have high expectations for anything. He goes with the flow and rolls with the punches. Valentine’s Day is not a declaration of our love but a clash of our differences.
I didn’t buy a card for Brian this year. Instead I found red boxers with white hearts and I left it at that. I know he bought something for me this year but that’s only because he made a mistake with the check book and I had to go back and fix the math.
But that’s okay. By not celebrating Valentine’s Day, I lowered my expectations and I can be happy with whatever he chooses to give to me.
After all, it is just another day and ten years from now, it won’t matter. One day is just a drop in the bucket when you have the rest of your lives together.
Why Car Shopping Changes How I Look at My Marriage
After a year of persistent nagging, Brian has finally taken my dear sweet Beast of a car to the mechanic for inspection. Yes, that’s right, I’ve been driving a car illegaly for a year now. I know I could have easily taken the car in myself but I was trying to make a point.
Sadly, my car did not survive the inspection.
I drive, I mean, I drove a 1992 Buick Park Avenue that was luxary back in the day. I affectionately refer to my pimped out old man car as “The Beast”. I thought it was clever when I was in college because then I could be “Beauty in The Beast”. Haha. I loved this car though. Originally the car belonged to my grandfather until three years ago when we took his license away and he gave me the car.
The thought of getting rid of this car pains me. But the idea of spending two thousand dollars just to pass inspection pains me more. Brian, however, is rejoicing. He has long hated the Beast and I suspect he now feels liberated from seeing it parked out side of our house. I’m just sad. I had great plans to still be driving the car when I had kids.
Now I find myself car shopping with my husband which is a very interesting and surprising experience. So far, the process is really highlighting the difference between Brian and myself.
- Brian likes to go into a sales situation knowing more about the product than the sales person whereas I think that’s a waste of my time. I like to go to numerous places, see what they tell me and then make a decision. I can’t be an expert on everything, nor do I want to be an expert.
- Brian and I share an opinion that a car is a poor investment. Its one of the reasons why we will never own a new car. But I still find we are on opposite ends of the car buying spectrum. Brian believes in buying the cheapest car possible. I believe that’s throwing more money down the drain. If I have to have a car payment, I was to invest in a vehicle that will last until my first child is in elementary school, which is about eight years from now.
- Brian is looking for a car that will get me from Point A to Point B and that he will want to drive on the weekends. I’m looking for a car that could be filled with strollers and kids in a few years from now.
- Brian wants a Mitsubishi. I don’t.
- Brian is okay buying a car from a discount auto mall. I think a reputable car broker is essential to the car buying process.
- I think this is an important decision but it needs to be made quickly. Brian wants to take his time. Probably because he’s busy trying to be an expert in car buying. Grrrr.
For now we are still trying to duke out what car shopping will look like for us. And the compromising is tough. I’m half tempted to get our pastor, Todd, involved and call it marital counseling because I’m not sure we have the language to effectively compromise and communicate on this.
My Not So Secret Affair with the Written Word
Brian has yet to learn that I should never be taken into an establishment that sells books so I frequently find myself in positions where I am trying to convince myself to only buy five books instead of five hundred while Brian looks confused that he can’t just walk in, buy what he needs and leave. Which is what happened Sunday afternoon as we were trying to finish up our Christmas shopping. Brian had finally thought of the perfect gift for his father’s girlfriend which helped us to finish our holiday shopping in a bookstore. As he hunted through Borders as a man on a mission, I browsed the beautiful aisles filled with books I have yet to read. Each unread book was a friend I had yet to meet.
I read the way some people eat or play video games. I live for a good book. I can ignore my husband for hours on end if the content is compelling and it is not unusual to find me hiding in a strange location with a book. I rarely bring books to my job because I don’t trust myself to not sneak off and hide in the building with my latest page turner in tow.
I purchased four books on Sunday afternoon. Brian had reached the “enough” point with my roaming and since we had taken separate cars, he moved on to the next errand. I still needed to ponder what “excessive” really meant in a bookstore. All of my purchases were impulse buys but that was to be expected. I was able to rationalize by telling myself that since the writers are all striking in Hollywood, there really isn’t anything good on TV except Law and Order: SVU reruns and I’m not sure Brian will be tolerating that for much longer.
Which brings me to my big question: if I didn’t really watch TV anymore, would my book purchases still be excessive? What if Brian and I read at night instead of tuning into a million different TV shows? Would our lives improve for the better? Or would we find that Saturday mornings were used to catch up on TV? What if Brian read instead of internet surfed?
I’m not sure if I’m quite at a point where I’m interested in unplugging my TV but I think I need to cut it back at this point. Brian and I regularly watch over 3 hours of television a day. Considering I watched less than one half hour of television a day at the time Brian and I were engaged, it raises flags about the change in my behavior. I think maybe the most I can commit to is trying to cut back to an hour of TV a day. It is, at least, a start.
The Hard Part of Marriage
The most difficult aspect of marriage is realized around the same time that you realize you want to shed some aspect of your life. You can’t. You are now unable to shed the skin you are in when it becomes itchy and uncomfortable. You can no longer escape your bad decisions when they no longer suite you. Your bad decisions now belong to someone else and in turn, their bad decisions now belong to you as well.
In my pre-marriage life, I used to take solace in the fact that I did not choose my family. The egg and sperm that I grew from did not choose each other, they just happened to both be lurking in the same uterus at the time of my conception. I did not pick my parents but they were still my family. And by not picking my family, it became so much easier to distance myself from them or discount them as people. I may be sharing genetic material with them but they chose me.
As a married woman, my family now is my husband. And I did choose him. I decided to marry Brian just as Brian decided to marry me. I decided to love him and build a life with him. I decided he would be my family. And for that reason, I am not able to discount him or distance myself from him for the simple reason that it was all my choice. I am married to both Brian and his decisions.
Sometimes this scares the crap out of me.
When we first completed our walk down the aisle, I suspected that the most difficult aspect to relate to the fact that I would be having the same sex every night with the same man for the rest of my life. And as the play-ette I was in my single days, this was a bit concerning. There would be no more bad day sex with an ex-boyfriend. No more mid-week booty calls. I would be having sex with Brian until we were either too old to have sex or until one of us died. Surprisingly though, thus far, it hasn’t been that bad. In fact, I find that I like it and the lack of a chase for sex means I have more time at night to moisturize, therefore maintaining my youthful appearance for as long as possible.
But along with the consistent sex comes the consistent marriage. When Brian does something dumb, I can’t just walk away. I can’t through the towel in because I’m pissed off that Brian didn’t get my car fixed in a timely manner. When he comes out with a statement involving a bad idea being “really great”, I will still have to deal with the aftermath of that idea in the morning. And when I do dumb things, which I do constantly, I can’t just walk away from it. Suddenly, I have discovered that I must deal with the consequences of my actions.
My life choices for the first time have truly become life choices.
Life as a single person is transitional. Your friends, your job, your hobbies – these all can be replaced and no one needs remember but yourself. After marriage, someone will remember all of these things and more. My life story has now become so entwined with Brian that now he is my life story and I am his.
It seems the binding of marriage has hit me in ways I did not know how to prepare for.
Tales from the Honeymoon: Half Moon Cay
Brian and I returned from our Honeymoon two weeks ago and it has been rather odd getting back into the swing of life. I burned our dinner on Sunday night and laundry has been a challenge. It was a much needed break for us and I’m glad we waited to go on our trip.
The cruise was amazing. We saw so much and we met lots of interesting people. The weather was beautiful and there was always something to do. We actually had to be deliberate about finding time to not do things and to just sit and be. It was great.
When we arrived at the port in Miami, I was amazed by the ship. I knew it was going to be huge but I didn’t quite know what to expect. I felt so small walking onto the ship and I thought I was going to spend the entire trip lost and confused. We sailed on the Carnival Triumph which I was told wasn’t even one of the biggest or newest ships in the fleet. The ship had a “World” theme to it so there were the Paris and London Dining rooms, the Rome Lounge, the Hollywood Disco, The Oxford Bar, the Venetian Room, and the Tokyo Underground amoung other places. Each of these rooms or locations were inspired by the cities they were named for, some more effectively than others. The ship also had gift shops, an art gallery, more bars than I knew what to do with, mini golf, an internet cafe, a spa, a gym, a theater, a library, and housed 1400 crew and 3000 passengers. Wow.
We visited four ports during our trip. Our first stop was Half Moon Cay in the Bahamas. Originally it was a pirate island but now it is privately owned. Only 45 acres of the 2000+ acres are developed so it looks like a rainforest magically appearing in the ocean when you approach it. The sand is so soft and the water is breath-taking clear. The downside to the island is that everything was run by Carnival so it wasn’t quite as intimate as the other islands; everything left a corporate taste in your mouth.
We went snorkeling at Half Moon Cay. I wasn’t sure if I would enjoy it as I am not a very strong swimmer but I found I was able to hold my own. In the water, there were mostly white fish with a blue-black stripe. Looking down at the water, they were easy to spot and see the outlines but from under the surface, it was difficult to see more than a dark line pass before your face. Brian discovered that the fish loved hotdogs as they all swarmed around him, fighting for a piece of the hot dog he was dropping into the ocean. I wasn’t a big fan of feeling the fish flick around my legs but it was an interesting experience to have.
I was also amazed at my ability to swim in the ocean. For a long time, I thought it was physically impossible for me to enter a body of water and manage to keep my head above the water but it wasn’t a struggle. Brian was able to explain to me how to make it easier because he could finally see what I was doing in the water to keep afloat without me thrashing around like a mad woman for air.
Another special thing from the trip was Brian with his shirt off on the beach. His skin is so fair and he burns so easily that he usually avoids spending time outside with his shirt off. But we kept him well slathered with sunscreen and he actually did better in the sun than I did. There are a few pictures of us together in our beach attire that I think I will always cherish.
By the end of the day, we were exhausted. My legs ached from walking and swimming but it felt so good. Our three o’clock nap was amazing and we had a dinner that tasted like heaven.
I’ll be posting pictures in here eventually but we still need to get them off of the camera.
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