Every story, whether great or small, has 3 main parts: a beginning, a middle, and an end. And peppered throughout that story is conflict and resolution. Each character in the story is his own main actor. And in every story, a representation of thousands of stories are woven into someone's single larger story. My own personal story has been twisting and turning for a long time, and just 9 days ago encountered the largest plot twist to its main storyline. I got married.
I made a commitment to a man. To another human being, I pledged my never-ending love, honour, and support. I changed a concrete part of my identity. Those who know me, know that this step is one that was perhaps never coming. It never crossed my mind as an indelible decision to marry another person.
I don't have to go into the very nature of the man I married. If that has not been irrevocably clear the last 2 years, I have failed. But none-the-less, I am now a wife, and with that comes many many changes. Most are visual although some are not. The name change, the insurance change, and the bill changes are all things we know are going to happen and expect.
While driving, in the rain, to our honeymoon, I kept thinking how easy it all was...this marriage thing. So much so that I looked at J and said, "I like this being married thing." He chuckled, looked at the clock, and said, "It's been 20 hours." Perhaps a little sheepish, I smiled but continue to think how easy and comforting the transition had been. The rest of the drive was comfortable and fun.
3 days into our wedded vaca, I called my mom, while buzzed and sitting at the bar. I heard the hello and replied, "YOUR DAUGHTER IS NO LONGER A VIRGIN!" I might have yelled a bit loud, but thought it be best to make the announcement as memorable as possible. J sat across from me with a slight pink hue to his cheeks where the embarrassment had crept in. I recounted vaguely the moment when heaven met earth and the paradigm shifted. It was a moment I will never forget. It was a moment when, "I think I'm going to cry," came tumbling out of my mouth as he held me tighter. It was a moment where our sacramental moment was sanctified...again. That change was not visual, but unremoveable and remarkable.
As the honeymoon came to an end, my husband, gonna take some getting used to that word, and I spoke several times how things didn't truly feel too much different. It wouldn't be until we came back to reality. We came "home." The feeling of difference was quite quick once I had the downtime to process that I would not be returning to my home. That once I laid my head down on his bed, I would be "home."
I felt it thick, and I needed a break. I needed to get away. I needed to breathe on my own...I needed to see if the choice I had made just 8 days ago was truly the right choice. So, I left. I did what i do best...run. I ran to my home. I ran to where my dog lays his head at night and my parents breathe. But this time I knew that I would be returning to him before the sun went down. I spoke to my father of this thick air and the displacement I felt. I spoke openly of the feeling that I didn't belong to J or to them any longer, and that I wasn't sure what to do. I knew I was just looking for someone to tell me this too shall pass... I had never lived with a man, I had never felt so much like an intrusion into someone's life as I did into my new husband's.
I'll admit... I wasn't that much fun to be around the first night back. I got cold and distant. I felt out of place in my own world. I looked at my possessions in this new home and they ceased to look like mine. This conflict into my new plot twist was causing me to question a lot. That night I pulled back the covers, sunk into bed, and tossed and turned listening to his breathing not feeling as though I belonged. Not wanting to be touched when he casually reached for my hand. So odd that we had talked endlessly for almost 2 years about wishing I didn't have to leave at the end of a great visit. Well... now I wanted too. Now I felt like I should.
I spoke, the next morning, with a good friend about my feelings and shortly then went, again, to visit home. This time to see my mom, the peacemaker. And within moments I missed the man I now call husband. I listened as she told me it would take time, and I suddenly felt the subtle tinge of wanting to go "home" to "my" home to "our" home. I left my parent's place and drove the 20 minutes back home thinking of the major changes that I have now been faced with. I had a more defined outlook and an understanding ear of my peacemaker.
Last night was a much more gracious evening. Last night I felt more like I belonged. It wasn't because J made me feel any different, but because I was slowly coming to terms. And last night, as I pulled back the covers, sunk into bed, and wrapped my arms so very tightly around his shoulders, I felt truly home. Oh, I have no doubt there will be moments when I feel a little bit of the disorientation, but I do believe that I can squelch those quickly with the arms of the man I love and the lips of the man I married holding me and telling me that, "I was happy when you became my girlfriend. I was ecstatic that you became my fiancé. And I will be eternally grateful that you became my wife."
I think I am going to like this marriage thing. Come on conflict... do your worst!
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