Mental hardiness. Strength. Tenacity. (I love that word. I love how it sounds, and how it rolls off my tongue so deliciously and boldly.) Endurance. Long-suffering (sometimes).
Things have been falling into a good pattern this new year. I am happy about that. A pattern that is more in line with these descriptions.
If you are young, unless you have a close friend who has experienced it themselves or you are currently going through it, you may not know that the transition from singledom to married life to parenthood is not always fluid or glittery like some of hollywood’s fun little portrayals. Most people seem ill-prepared as I was, for what is to come for them. Nothing can prepare you. Nothing. But I think if we had more people willing to speak of it, that would ease a lot of the heartache.
These actions and life phases are messy, splattered with dirt, grime, and the occasional splatter of heated (truly raging) argument. Life was extraordinarily hard for us as a newlywed couple (“Newlywed” refers to the first year or so of married life, correct? Except that’s not always the only definition. Some people think they’re still newlywed at two years, and others feel the idea has worn off much sooner. I remember wondering at what point we were no longer considered newlywed. Now I laugh, because we have an attention-grabbing son and I do not at all think I am newlywed, no hint of it here!) with our getting to understand one another’s patterns and rhythms and communication ways. With getting to understand what it really means to choose to love someone. Not just to feel like it. Because when the cold, hard, scathing reality hits you with a very distinct WHACK on the head, that you are both really screwed up and desperately need to be recreated and redeemed, it will be a choice of staying and loving, or running and running far–hiding away. I remember very vividly getting into my car and slamming the door, and I’m being vulnerably honest here, having packed a bag of my belongings, and driving to my parents house at least a few times in those early months. I think once I actually stayed overnight, and I just needed to work things out and get over them. But many times I just drove partway, and then fickly turned around and we made up and chose to show love to on another. It was hard–and the difficulties required heartiness in order for us to not continue going back to the same old fights and issues. And things are not that way anymore, they are not all dramatic and painful and ridiculous, misunderstood. We still have blow ups once in awhile, and this move has been hard on our communication and Troy’s overtime has definitely been an obstacle we’ve had to maneuver around. And I venture to say it’s more like that picture I just painted for most people than they would like to admit or let on to. This world is simply too happy to hear the simple, easy version of things, whereas the realities are not so readily boiled down or explained. People have stories in their marriages that are much more detailed and layered.
There are nuances. There are crazy realizations. There are dumb smacks in the face when you start realizing what your spouse actually needed from you (but doesn’t know how to ask for) or what your child had been trying to say in their own (20-month-old) fussy way.
Days can be rough. The toaster oven can catch fire and the dog can start puking, and you can be just standing there in a tee-shirt and pajama pants, looking as frumpy as can be and as confused and annoyed as the dickens. Wondering if your life will always be a dog-puke delight. Wondering if you’ll ever nab a moment to remove that weeks-old chipped nail polish that’s starting to look intentional. Weeks can be bone-dry and red-eyed, they can be expletive worthy, they can make you want to just leave everything –but you know what? They don’t stay like that forever. It is not an eternal place, as I have seen at least in the last month or so. I feel there is plenty of hope, even for people who may be emotional, or hormonal, or unstable, or stress-level-through-the-roof individuals as I have been before. Sometimes you just have to wait it out long enough, I suppose, and get on your knees again.
The hope I am feeling, lately in my journey, is a hearty and steady resilience that is being built up. Built up by changing dirty diapers, by taking walks in the cold because “dang it, we need to get out!”, by doing load after load of laundry and folding and putting it up, of giving a massage when I want one for myself. It is channeled through listening when I feel like yelling, by giving another chance when I feel like giving up, by ignoring something irritating when I feel its the last straw. And as a housewife (I’d rather call myself a house person! I hate that term.. haha) there is so much to do here, and I think the mental challenge of it all sometimes has gotten me so down. But instead of even thinking of it, lately, I have just been DOING. Just do it. Nike. So silly. But really, in just doing things, I have developed some patterns and I think that God is giving me some household tenacity. Some drive when I was so weary from such little work before. And I am a hard worker, but giving up yourself and giving up tending to your needs because you have a son and a house to care for, is not for the weak, and I am learning just what it takes to be a “housewife,” as lame and totally boxed-in as that term is. I have a new respect for those hard working people I know and love, the ones who do the behind-the-scenes marching and grunt-work. I have a shining admiration for their hearts, for their souls which could so easily turn towards indignation and pride, towards begrudgingly caring for people instead of doing it lovingly, but with Christ’s love and affirmation they selflessly keep going. They continue to love with the gut-wrenching self sacrifice that is everyday life to them, service to others without complaining. What does it take to give to others willingly, with no expectations? That is what Jesus is asking me lately. And He is telling me that it takes his love. It takes his heart and his spirit. Not mine. Mine could kick everyone to the curb and say “See ya, suckers!” But His. His is so amazingly giving and full of delight in it, too.
All this to say, sorry I’ve been away so long, here’s what I’m thinking of.
Just another piece of my life puzzle. Dark coming into light.
All my love,
-M
A Captive Mind 