I don't really know why I haven't written a post about this particular subject until now. Maybe it's because over the last eight or nine months I have neglected my writing due to the fact that my life as I knew it was abruptly flipped upside down and dropped on its head. Usually I process a major life change by writing about it- it's my therapy. However, when a pipe bomb exploded in the middle of my content little existence I couldn't gather enough fragments of the shrapnel to form a coherent thought, let alone a written expression that resembled anything readable.
For those who have recently began reading this blog (thank you, by the way) you can find the details of this metaphorical explosion in my last post of 2009 entitled "Christmas Eve and Miles Away from the Ordinary". Suffice it to say, the dust has settled and the entire family is adjusting quite nicely to what I refer to as the "new normal". One colossal slice of this new existence is that I now have a stepfather...
I have to repeat that... a stepfather. I swear the word looks like it's written in a foreign language. I am all too quickly approaching my 26th birthday and as of December 27, 2009 I have a stepfather.
This is beyond weird for me. For starters, Mom and her new hubby live in Montana while I reside with little family left to speak of in Maryland. I don't know Step Dad very well. I spent a handful of occasions with him during two visits he made to our fine state before he swept Mom off to the land of cowboys and shooting your own dinner. I like the man just fine and I'm sure that the more time we spend together the more fond of him I will eventually become. But let's face it, although he makes her deliriously happy and that thrills me, he's the guy that married my mom and took her 2,700 miles away. So referring to him as my stepfather at this juncture still feels like I'm attempting to speak Russian.
Anyway, the truly surreal segment of this whole chain of recent events is the completely unnatural dynamic shift in my relationship with my mom. Because now I am the old married lady with a whopping two and a half years of marriage under my belt and she is the fledgling newlywed fumbling her way through her first year of marriage like Bambi learning how to walk for the first time. Yeah, she did do the whole first-year thing 27 years ago when she married my dad. However, their marriage was so steeped in passive aggression that they probably spent the whole year exhausting themselves trying not to go through the necessary tumbles and fumbles that eventually lead to a happy frolicking deer. So now I get to watch as my mother, the woman who raised me and taught me every last little thing I know about life and love and men, tackles the infamous first year of marriage.
I imagine this would be a lot more fun to witness if we weren't essentially on opposite ends of the country and she wasn't undergoing a long frustrating course of chemo which inhibits her from traveling. I'll tell you what though, I love hearing her rattle off the laundry list of the very same complaints that I used to bring to her when I myself resembled little Bambi. I swear to you, it's more satisfying than a bag of Double Stuf Oreos, a glass of cold milk, and a Sex and the City marathon to hear my own mother tell me that now she gets it. Now she completely understands why I would call her late one night crying about how I couldn't put up with Brandon's shit anymore and by the next morning I would be informing her about what a spectacular husband I had found myself. Now she totally gets how you can be so deeply in love with someone who quite often makes you want to grab the back of his head and slam his face into the coffee table.
I'm fairly certain that during my first year of marriage my mom and quite a few others were holding their breath to see if Brandon and I could actually survive. My mom perhaps more so than others because she was the one receiving the late night phone calls about what an idiot the man I married was. Of course, Brandon and I thought everyone was crazy because we knew our fights were just our way of breaking each other in. We knew we would make it, and that we would be stronger as a result. It took being a newlywed herself for my mother to realize that although my marriage may have had its messy moments, Brandon and I knew what we were doing (more or less). Let's just say she has a whole lot more faith in our relationship now that she's been down in the trenches herself.
This whole process has not only been outrageously amusing for me, it has also cemented my mother's and my relationship as friends. We're two women navigating the early years of marriage together. I offer my insights as someone who has been married a little longer and she still has wisdom to offer way beyond my scope of understanding because, well, she's my mom and she knows everything!
I still don't know about the whole Step Dad thing though- it's so weird.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
What Ever Happened to "Happy for You"?
I was a waitress for seven years. It was a tragically bittersweet job that ushered me through many stages of my life. What started as a part-time job that I stumbled into by chance eventually evolved into a lifestyle, slowly transitioned into a means to an end, and eventually died a slow death and was ultimately put out of its excruciating misery- this time (here's hoping) for good.
During my tenure as an under-appreciated and under-paid servant to the masses I learned countless valuable life lessons. For starters, I could multi-task in the Olympics. I would win too because all the judges would get their self-righteous butts kissed with a sincerity that only a seasoned waitress knows how to fake. But above all things I learned doing this job I discovered that no matter the amount of utterly ridiculous behavior I've witnessed from guests in my restaurants, no matter how many times my jaw has dropped to the floor, the general public that I served never ever ceased to surprise me. Even on my last day as a waitress I guarantee there was something some random patron did that made my eyes widen and rendered me speechless at their complete audacity.
I say this to you, dear reader, because I have have found this particular life lesson carries over quite seamlessly to my married life as well. As you may have read in my previous post, family members have really breached about eight different kinds of personal boundaries when poking for information about Brandon's and my life plans. I don't know if these kinds of comments arise in the worlds of other married couples- maybe it's just us. Either way, I continue to find myself shocked and appalled by the comments people have deemed acceptable to say to my face. However, I have my seven year career as a hardened waitress to thank for my ability to take every last one of these comments with grace, dignity, and sometimes strategic wit.
I rarely accompany Brandon to events that involve his close-knit group of friends. Much of this has to do with the fact that since our move to farm country I have become somewhat of a contented homebody. I also do not like to make a habit of encroaching on "Guy Time". Only one of Brandon's friends is married, two are products of recently failed marriages (but we'll discuss them later), two or three others have quasi-serious girlfriends, and the rest are steadfastly single. So where does this leave me? Quite often I am there purely for decoration, perched on a bar stool sipping a glass of Merlot, silently pretending to be listening intently to a conversation about fantasy football line-ups or Call of Duty strategies. No thanks.
This past weekend, however, I decided that I would make a cameo appearance. One of the guys was hosting his annual Memorial Day cookout. It was a comfortable mix of friends of Brandon that I could hold quality conversation with and total strangers. I have never been made to feel left out among Brandon's group, they are truly great guys and a lot of fun. But let's face it, they've all been close since childhood and I will forever be marked as "Brandon's wife". I'm somewhat of an alien life form to these guys. They're all perfectly pleasant and sweet to me, but I frequently get the sense that they can't quite figure out how to relate to me. There seems to be a hovering sense of hesitation around many of the conversations I have with some of Brandon's closest friends. It's almost like they still don't fully trust me or they are reluctant to absorb me completely into their circle because part of them still suspects I may not be a permanent fixture. While reading this you may chalk this analysis up to paranoid delusions, however, I urge you to withhold judgement until you find out how this was confirmed for me.
Brandon and I were standing among a group of miscellaneous friends and acquaintances sipping on bottles of beer and trying not to melt in the hot sun. One of Brandon's recently divorced friends that I mentioned earlier, I'll call him Scott, approached the group. I still can't quite remember how the subject arose but all of a sudden Brandon and I found our marriage in the social spotlight once again.
"Don't ever get married!" Scott exclaimed to Brandon, gesturing emphatically with his beer-holding hand. "Oh, wait," he continued sarcastically, "too late!"
We all had a half-hearted laugh and I was secretly hoping the line of conversation would drop dead right then and there. No such luck.
"It's cool," Scott looked to me. "You're great now, but around year two or three you will turn into a c***, you will cheat on him, and you will leave him."
OK, Scott. Thanks for the heads up.
Here's where that grace and dignity I also mentioned earlier had to come in. I laughed with only the slightest hint of discomfort and suppressed my urge to punch him because I realized several things in that moment. I recognized that Scott was clearly joking around with us, even though there was a glimmer of austerity behind his statement. I also was able to take the unbelievably abhorrent use of the c-word in stride because after four years of spending Saturday nights drinking with twenty-something single guys I have diminished my reaction to that word to a minimal cringe at its use. And lastly, I acknowledged the fact that what he described I would unavoidably do to Brandon is exactly what Scott's wife did to him. So after taking all this into consideration in about three seconds, I decided to laugh it off, smile at Scott, and attempt some witty banter.
"So I guess I should just give up now and get it over with, huh?" I shot back with a sly grin.
You could almost see the cloud of tension lift off the group. I didn't realize until that moment that it seemed as though everyone had been waiting for my reaction. I suspect that they all were expecting me to punch Scott. And, in retrospect, he probably would have deserved it. I mean, you can't just say that kind of thing! But that wouldn't have been very helpful to anyone.
So, thank you, seven outrageous years of waitressing, for teaching me that people are always going to surprise you with their inappropriate behavior. And, most importantly, for teaching me that when someone shocks me with their new heights of disrespect and insolence it's best to take it in stride, respond with grace and dignity, and then complain about it on your blog later.
During my tenure as an under-appreciated and under-paid servant to the masses I learned countless valuable life lessons. For starters, I could multi-task in the Olympics. I would win too because all the judges would get their self-righteous butts kissed with a sincerity that only a seasoned waitress knows how to fake. But above all things I learned doing this job I discovered that no matter the amount of utterly ridiculous behavior I've witnessed from guests in my restaurants, no matter how many times my jaw has dropped to the floor, the general public that I served never ever ceased to surprise me. Even on my last day as a waitress I guarantee there was something some random patron did that made my eyes widen and rendered me speechless at their complete audacity.
I say this to you, dear reader, because I have have found this particular life lesson carries over quite seamlessly to my married life as well. As you may have read in my previous post, family members have really breached about eight different kinds of personal boundaries when poking for information about Brandon's and my life plans. I don't know if these kinds of comments arise in the worlds of other married couples- maybe it's just us. Either way, I continue to find myself shocked and appalled by the comments people have deemed acceptable to say to my face. However, I have my seven year career as a hardened waitress to thank for my ability to take every last one of these comments with grace, dignity, and sometimes strategic wit.
I rarely accompany Brandon to events that involve his close-knit group of friends. Much of this has to do with the fact that since our move to farm country I have become somewhat of a contented homebody. I also do not like to make a habit of encroaching on "Guy Time". Only one of Brandon's friends is married, two are products of recently failed marriages (but we'll discuss them later), two or three others have quasi-serious girlfriends, and the rest are steadfastly single. So where does this leave me? Quite often I am there purely for decoration, perched on a bar stool sipping a glass of Merlot, silently pretending to be listening intently to a conversation about fantasy football line-ups or Call of Duty strategies. No thanks.
This past weekend, however, I decided that I would make a cameo appearance. One of the guys was hosting his annual Memorial Day cookout. It was a comfortable mix of friends of Brandon that I could hold quality conversation with and total strangers. I have never been made to feel left out among Brandon's group, they are truly great guys and a lot of fun. But let's face it, they've all been close since childhood and I will forever be marked as "Brandon's wife". I'm somewhat of an alien life form to these guys. They're all perfectly pleasant and sweet to me, but I frequently get the sense that they can't quite figure out how to relate to me. There seems to be a hovering sense of hesitation around many of the conversations I have with some of Brandon's closest friends. It's almost like they still don't fully trust me or they are reluctant to absorb me completely into their circle because part of them still suspects I may not be a permanent fixture. While reading this you may chalk this analysis up to paranoid delusions, however, I urge you to withhold judgement until you find out how this was confirmed for me.
Brandon and I were standing among a group of miscellaneous friends and acquaintances sipping on bottles of beer and trying not to melt in the hot sun. One of Brandon's recently divorced friends that I mentioned earlier, I'll call him Scott, approached the group. I still can't quite remember how the subject arose but all of a sudden Brandon and I found our marriage in the social spotlight once again.
"Don't ever get married!" Scott exclaimed to Brandon, gesturing emphatically with his beer-holding hand. "Oh, wait," he continued sarcastically, "too late!"
We all had a half-hearted laugh and I was secretly hoping the line of conversation would drop dead right then and there. No such luck.
"It's cool," Scott looked to me. "You're great now, but around year two or three you will turn into a c***, you will cheat on him, and you will leave him."
OK, Scott. Thanks for the heads up.
Here's where that grace and dignity I also mentioned earlier had to come in. I laughed with only the slightest hint of discomfort and suppressed my urge to punch him because I realized several things in that moment. I recognized that Scott was clearly joking around with us, even though there was a glimmer of austerity behind his statement. I also was able to take the unbelievably abhorrent use of the c-word in stride because after four years of spending Saturday nights drinking with twenty-something single guys I have diminished my reaction to that word to a minimal cringe at its use. And lastly, I acknowledged the fact that what he described I would unavoidably do to Brandon is exactly what Scott's wife did to him. So after taking all this into consideration in about three seconds, I decided to laugh it off, smile at Scott, and attempt some witty banter.
"So I guess I should just give up now and get it over with, huh?" I shot back with a sly grin.
You could almost see the cloud of tension lift off the group. I didn't realize until that moment that it seemed as though everyone had been waiting for my reaction. I suspect that they all were expecting me to punch Scott. And, in retrospect, he probably would have deserved it. I mean, you can't just say that kind of thing! But that wouldn't have been very helpful to anyone.
So, thank you, seven outrageous years of waitressing, for teaching me that people are always going to surprise you with their inappropriate behavior. And, most importantly, for teaching me that when someone shocks me with their new heights of disrespect and insolence it's best to take it in stride, respond with grace and dignity, and then complain about it on your blog later.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Nope, Sorry, No Kids Yet.
Brandon and I have been married almost two and a half years now- with no children. Gasp. That's right, no children and no immediate plan to start trying to have children. Does this make us matrimonial pariahs? I've been getting the impression lately that it does. I don't mean to be rude- well, actually, I don't really care if it seems rude at this point, but since when does a wedding ring on the finger broadcast to the masses that it's open season on our personal life?
At a fairly recent Clark family gathering (that's Brandon's side of the family) one particularly outspoken Aunt saw us arrive and immediately bee-lined in our direction. She took one look at my flat belly in my little black dress and blurted out in a boisterous way that drew the attention of all family members in our immediate vicinity,
"No baby yet?! What's the matter Bran, your willy not workin'?!"
Yes, that's right folks; those words actually were spoken to our faces. How do you even respond to that mortifying comment? As my heart shimmied it's way up my chest and lodged firmly in my throat and the blood was hamming through my eardrums with embarrassment and anger, my husband managed to collect himself enough to respond.
"No, Aunt Marie, it's working just fine," he laughed it off. "Just no kids for us yet."
"Not yet" has become the official party line; recently we've had to develop a habit of making a preemptive "not yet" strike when we arrive at any event that the family will be attending. After the infamous "willy" comment it is simply an effort to save us from humiliation.
We get it from the other side of the family too now. My brother's wife- I'll call her Gwen- is a proud mother of three with a forth on the way. During a recent visit to their house I revealed my aspirations of becoming a writer. Gwen listened quietly as I spoke of my passion and my plans for my first book. Later I sat with Gwen on the back deck watching Brandon play with her kids. It was then she decided to strike with the question that has become a resounding refrain to Brandon and me:
"When are you two going to start having kids?"
First of all, why is it always phrased like that? "Start having kids"- like once you start you just can't stop and that's who you are; a baby-making machine. Second, I love how people think this is a socially appropriate question simply because we're married. If I was single no one would say, "Hey Jenna, when are you going to quit screwing around and start having kids?" And for that matter no one with any decency would ask me, "When are you going to get married already?"
Not cool. This is personal stuff that I think should be our business. But I digress.
I responded candidly to Gwen's question, "There are things I would like to accomplish before we start a family."
Gwen's comeback was this:
"Well there's nothing like having children to get your priorities straight and keep your pipe-dreams in check."
Pow. All the air rushed from my lungs as if I had been kicked in the stomach by a horse. I was rendered speechless yet again by the brazenness of the incredibly inappropriate comment. That was a one-two passive aggressive punch, too. She was not only suggesting that having kids is the only life-affirming path one can take but also she was suggesting that I was basically and idiot for thinking I could ever be a published writer.
Gwen might as well have said, "Give it up, girl. Just start popping out some kids and life will be sweet."
I'm going to pause here to say that I am not anti-children. Brandon and I are not one of those "modern day power couples" that see no need for children when we're so focused on bigger and better things. We want children. We simply want to be able to accomplish a certain number of things before we give ourselves completely to our children and give them the best possible life opportunities. What's the problem?
So, give it up guys. Just because we're married doesn't mean we owe it to anyone to 1. have children or 2. explain why we haven't had children yet. We love you all, really we do. Just find some other aspect of our lives to ask about.
I'm just saying.
At a fairly recent Clark family gathering (that's Brandon's side of the family) one particularly outspoken Aunt saw us arrive and immediately bee-lined in our direction. She took one look at my flat belly in my little black dress and blurted out in a boisterous way that drew the attention of all family members in our immediate vicinity,
"No baby yet?! What's the matter Bran, your willy not workin'?!"
Yes, that's right folks; those words actually were spoken to our faces. How do you even respond to that mortifying comment? As my heart shimmied it's way up my chest and lodged firmly in my throat and the blood was hamming through my eardrums with embarrassment and anger, my husband managed to collect himself enough to respond.
"No, Aunt Marie, it's working just fine," he laughed it off. "Just no kids for us yet."
"Not yet" has become the official party line; recently we've had to develop a habit of making a preemptive "not yet" strike when we arrive at any event that the family will be attending. After the infamous "willy" comment it is simply an effort to save us from humiliation.
We get it from the other side of the family too now. My brother's wife- I'll call her Gwen- is a proud mother of three with a forth on the way. During a recent visit to their house I revealed my aspirations of becoming a writer. Gwen listened quietly as I spoke of my passion and my plans for my first book. Later I sat with Gwen on the back deck watching Brandon play with her kids. It was then she decided to strike with the question that has become a resounding refrain to Brandon and me:
"When are you two going to start having kids?"
First of all, why is it always phrased like that? "Start having kids"- like once you start you just can't stop and that's who you are; a baby-making machine. Second, I love how people think this is a socially appropriate question simply because we're married. If I was single no one would say, "Hey Jenna, when are you going to quit screwing around and start having kids?" And for that matter no one with any decency would ask me, "When are you going to get married already?"
Not cool. This is personal stuff that I think should be our business. But I digress.
I responded candidly to Gwen's question, "There are things I would like to accomplish before we start a family."
Gwen's comeback was this:
"Well there's nothing like having children to get your priorities straight and keep your pipe-dreams in check."
Pow. All the air rushed from my lungs as if I had been kicked in the stomach by a horse. I was rendered speechless yet again by the brazenness of the incredibly inappropriate comment. That was a one-two passive aggressive punch, too. She was not only suggesting that having kids is the only life-affirming path one can take but also she was suggesting that I was basically and idiot for thinking I could ever be a published writer.
Gwen might as well have said, "Give it up, girl. Just start popping out some kids and life will be sweet."
I'm going to pause here to say that I am not anti-children. Brandon and I are not one of those "modern day power couples" that see no need for children when we're so focused on bigger and better things. We want children. We simply want to be able to accomplish a certain number of things before we give ourselves completely to our children and give them the best possible life opportunities. What's the problem?
So, give it up guys. Just because we're married doesn't mean we owe it to anyone to 1. have children or 2. explain why we haven't had children yet. We love you all, really we do. Just find some other aspect of our lives to ask about.
I'm just saying.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Marriage Island
This morning I found myself channel surfing while enjoying my morning latte. I almost never even consider watching anything that MTV has to offer these days, but for whatever reason I felt intrigued by an episode of 'True Life'. This episode was entitled “I’m Ending My Marriage” and featured two young couples who were considering divorce. Both women in question were 26; which, incidentally, is a group I will join the ranks of in just 3 short months. Both couples had children which just makes the situation all the more devastating. I turned the show off after only about 10 minutes because I simply didn’t want to watch the irritating “drama” that MTV thrives on for ratings; but that’s a road I just can’t go down right now. However, what I did gather from my short time watching the program was that in each situation one person seemed to want to leave the marriage because they would rather live a carefree twenty-something existence.
In the first case the husband clearly loved his wife and sons but didn’t seem to want to give up his reckless nights of binge drinking at the bar with single friends and easy women. In the second case it seemed to be the wife who craved attention from strange men in clubs in an effort to remove her from the reality of marriage, children, and responsibility. So after taking in all this information I was left with one simple question that I found myself desperately wanting to ask these people:
“Why did you get married in the first place?”
Sometimes I feel that my husband and I are alone on the small island of “We Take Our Vows Seriously”. It’s no secret that this is an island that is difficult to survive on. For one, all those who have abandoned the island still live in close proximity and are very vocal about their decision to leave. Also, it has become much easier to leave the island. These days there are boats lined up like cabs outside a night club after last call waiting to ferry refugees off to the neighboring island of “I Want Out”. Resources have become sparse on our island, which makes survival dependant upon how creatively residents can utilize the resources we do have. Essentially it boils down to the fact that we committed ourselves to a life on this island. We promised God that we would live here for the rest of our lives no matter what the circumstances became.
When anyone first moves here, it’s the most beautiful place you can imagine. You think yourself incredibly lucky to be able to live in such a wonderful place. But the fact is any place you live is going to lose some of the initial novel appeal and you will begin to see the flaws. There isn’t enough to eat, it gets too cold at night, it’s too humid in the summer, or it’s just plain boring! This is when many people grab the first boat they can find and flee the island.
"It didn't work out," they may think. Or the ever popular, "We just weren't meant to be together," may be the party line given when asked why they can't stay.
Some may stick it out through the initial challenges but then eventually something breaks them and they too run for the docks.
"We really tried," they tell the boat captain, "It just got too hard." The thing is, the captain couldn't care less, he's just going to collect his ferry fee and come back for the next couple.
The real survivors, the true island natives are the ones who find more to eat, use an extra blanket at night, find shade during the heat, and then look around and think to themselves, “this is still the most beautiful place I can imagine and there is no where else in the world I would rather live”.
Living here comfortably on “We Take Our Vows Seriously”, my husband and I find ourselves frustrated when we see people abandon the island. And it’s especially irritating when we see people leave for; let’s face it, stupid reasons.
Let me clarify: Brandon and I are not judgmental self-important people simply because we’ve managed to stay married for two and a half years without major incident. My intention is not to be holier-than-thou and condemning, in case any of you reading this feels particularly defensive about your decision to move off the island. So if I am offending anyone, let me convey my apologies right now. Brandon and I simply find ourselves frustrated with people who get married with the underlying attitude of, "we'll see how it goes" instead of "for better or worse". That being said; moving on...
We understand that sometimes, despite both parties’ best efforts, a marriage cannot be salvaged. We also completely sympathize with those who find themselves married to someone they don’t even recognize due possibly to drugs, alcohol, or domestic violence. There should be no shame in leaving the island for those reasons.
The reasons I find myself completely infuriated over, and my primary intention in writing this blog, are the reasons the couples featured on the TV show “True Life” are letting their marriage deteriorate over. You shouldn’t get to flip-flop between family responsibilities and single life. Sure, at one point or another every married person will look back on single life with a small twinge of harmless nostalgia. Or one may even feel a fleeting sense of jealousy toward a single friend’s carefree exploits of unattached-hood. But I just can't get my head around the idea of someone who gets married when they aren't completely sure they want to leave that life behind. Here’s what I think an easy solution would be: get it out of your system then get married. It’s so heartbreaking to see relationships dissolve over something so trivial.
I have also heard young people I have known in my life cite the ever popular reason for divorce:
“I just don’t want to be married anymore”.
This one caused me to fight every red hot instinct in my body to scream in response, “Too frickin' bad! You should have thought of that before you promised ‘until death do you part’”!
Too often it seems that marriage is entered into because it seems like the right thing to do at the time. Or maybe, in some cases, people may think,
“This will be fun! I’ll plan a huge party, be the princess of the world for a day, get tons of presents, go on an awesome vacation, and then have a boyfriend for life!”
Even if this isn’t exactly the way the thought process progresses, admit it, lots of women are guilty of perceiving marriage this way. It may be on a subconscious level or it may flutter through her mind briefly while flipping through bridal magazines or trying on a wedding dress. Sure, it’s harmless if it’s a fleeting notion because the reality is the wedding itself is just our way of indulging our inner six-year-old. If only there was a way to do that without the whole "lifetime commitment" thing.
So if you want to move to the island of “We Take Our Vows Seriously”, I think, you should really ask yourself if you can live there, for better or worse, for the rest of your life. Because it truly is an amazing place to live if you take the time to make it that. It’s not a vacation spot, folks; true residents don’t appreciate tourists. So don’t show up if you’re not absolutely sure that you’re going to stay no matter what.
In the first case the husband clearly loved his wife and sons but didn’t seem to want to give up his reckless nights of binge drinking at the bar with single friends and easy women. In the second case it seemed to be the wife who craved attention from strange men in clubs in an effort to remove her from the reality of marriage, children, and responsibility. So after taking in all this information I was left with one simple question that I found myself desperately wanting to ask these people:
“Why did you get married in the first place?”
Sometimes I feel that my husband and I are alone on the small island of “We Take Our Vows Seriously”. It’s no secret that this is an island that is difficult to survive on. For one, all those who have abandoned the island still live in close proximity and are very vocal about their decision to leave. Also, it has become much easier to leave the island. These days there are boats lined up like cabs outside a night club after last call waiting to ferry refugees off to the neighboring island of “I Want Out”. Resources have become sparse on our island, which makes survival dependant upon how creatively residents can utilize the resources we do have. Essentially it boils down to the fact that we committed ourselves to a life on this island. We promised God that we would live here for the rest of our lives no matter what the circumstances became.
When anyone first moves here, it’s the most beautiful place you can imagine. You think yourself incredibly lucky to be able to live in such a wonderful place. But the fact is any place you live is going to lose some of the initial novel appeal and you will begin to see the flaws. There isn’t enough to eat, it gets too cold at night, it’s too humid in the summer, or it’s just plain boring! This is when many people grab the first boat they can find and flee the island.
"It didn't work out," they may think. Or the ever popular, "We just weren't meant to be together," may be the party line given when asked why they can't stay.
Some may stick it out through the initial challenges but then eventually something breaks them and they too run for the docks.
"We really tried," they tell the boat captain, "It just got too hard." The thing is, the captain couldn't care less, he's just going to collect his ferry fee and come back for the next couple.
The real survivors, the true island natives are the ones who find more to eat, use an extra blanket at night, find shade during the heat, and then look around and think to themselves, “this is still the most beautiful place I can imagine and there is no where else in the world I would rather live”.
Living here comfortably on “We Take Our Vows Seriously”, my husband and I find ourselves frustrated when we see people abandon the island. And it’s especially irritating when we see people leave for; let’s face it, stupid reasons.
Let me clarify: Brandon and I are not judgmental self-important people simply because we’ve managed to stay married for two and a half years without major incident. My intention is not to be holier-than-thou and condemning, in case any of you reading this feels particularly defensive about your decision to move off the island. So if I am offending anyone, let me convey my apologies right now. Brandon and I simply find ourselves frustrated with people who get married with the underlying attitude of, "we'll see how it goes" instead of "for better or worse". That being said; moving on...
We understand that sometimes, despite both parties’ best efforts, a marriage cannot be salvaged. We also completely sympathize with those who find themselves married to someone they don’t even recognize due possibly to drugs, alcohol, or domestic violence. There should be no shame in leaving the island for those reasons.
The reasons I find myself completely infuriated over, and my primary intention in writing this blog, are the reasons the couples featured on the TV show “True Life” are letting their marriage deteriorate over. You shouldn’t get to flip-flop between family responsibilities and single life. Sure, at one point or another every married person will look back on single life with a small twinge of harmless nostalgia. Or one may even feel a fleeting sense of jealousy toward a single friend’s carefree exploits of unattached-hood. But I just can't get my head around the idea of someone who gets married when they aren't completely sure they want to leave that life behind. Here’s what I think an easy solution would be: get it out of your system then get married. It’s so heartbreaking to see relationships dissolve over something so trivial.
I have also heard young people I have known in my life cite the ever popular reason for divorce:
“I just don’t want to be married anymore”.
This one caused me to fight every red hot instinct in my body to scream in response, “Too frickin' bad! You should have thought of that before you promised ‘until death do you part’”!
Too often it seems that marriage is entered into because it seems like the right thing to do at the time. Or maybe, in some cases, people may think,
“This will be fun! I’ll plan a huge party, be the princess of the world for a day, get tons of presents, go on an awesome vacation, and then have a boyfriend for life!”
Even if this isn’t exactly the way the thought process progresses, admit it, lots of women are guilty of perceiving marriage this way. It may be on a subconscious level or it may flutter through her mind briefly while flipping through bridal magazines or trying on a wedding dress. Sure, it’s harmless if it’s a fleeting notion because the reality is the wedding itself is just our way of indulging our inner six-year-old. If only there was a way to do that without the whole "lifetime commitment" thing.
So if you want to move to the island of “We Take Our Vows Seriously”, I think, you should really ask yourself if you can live there, for better or worse, for the rest of your life. Because it truly is an amazing place to live if you take the time to make it that. It’s not a vacation spot, folks; true residents don’t appreciate tourists. So don’t show up if you’re not absolutely sure that you’re going to stay no matter what.
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