Even Bad Advice Is Good For New Insights
My post from last week was the most recent in a line of quasi-love-letters about my marriage. I was surprised and heartened to see numerous comments on Brazen Careerist defending marriage and love, even from those who have their doubts.
But after thinking about it, I realized how awful my advice was for people who are not in great relationships. I'm sure many of you who are single, divorced, or disillusioned by love thought, "Oh shut up! Glad you're happy, now sod off."
I get it. Completely. If I were you I'd tell me to shut up too. I have to remember I hit the relationship jackpot. In fact, Mike and I were talking about all the incredible people we know who are still single and looking for love. I wish we could get them all into one room and say, "Hey, you are all extremely cool, why don't some of you shack up?"
Also, I'm incredibly lucky to have past relationship horrors erased from immediate memory, and to have learned that I don't have to repeat my parent's mistakes which made their marriage difficult and end in divorce. I don't really think about the past and believe my relationship with Mike has healed much of the hurt. But the wounds were fresh, real, and very painful at one point.
Journey Down Misery Lane
Let's skip back four years, before I met Mike. I was miserable. Really miserable. I had a great job, but not one I loved. I lived with my parents and struggled with finding autonomy and a positive self-image. I was dating, if you could call it that. I made mistakes. Huge mistakes. Like the kind of mistakes I won't write about here.
I dated men who would never to commit to me. I did this on purpose. I dated men who may have spent time in prison, or revealed they spoke in tongues, or asked for my hand in marriage two weeks into dating. I accepted an invitation from an ex-boyfriend who'd just ended his engagement to another woman to stay with him in New York, only to be kicked out onto the street, literally, while he decided to have a nervous breakdown.
My love life was hell. After the New York episode my self-worth plummeted. I was convinced I'd spend the rest of my life single and entered a two-year long period of disordered eating and depression. To lift my spirits I turned to music, which is how I met Mike. At the time dating sounded like a miserable affliction no one should ever wish upon themselves, so I wasn't looking at him as a potential partner.
Finding Love. Sort of.
He was kind, sweet, funny, encouraging. We hung out all the time. But I was romantically dead inside and the thought of love didn't register. I only knew I wanted to spend time with him every chance I got, but it's like I couldn't figure out why. And it's not because I loved rehearsing jazz standards every day.
After about a year of working together, he bought a house and I tagged along while he looked for items to fill it with. For all intents and purposes we were dating, but I refused to admit it. So he asked me formally one day, "Hey, would you like to go on a date with me?" I was shocked and replied, "Well, sure, I guess so. When?" He said, "How about right now?"
And so it began. Sort of.
Dontcha Wish Your Girlfriend Was a Freak Like Me
I was closed off, and hell-bent on proving I was unlovable. I fought with him at every turn. I played the role of the suspicious and cynical girlfriend, attempting to defend myself against what I was sure was going to be another failure of a relationship. He didn't play. When I acted out, he didn't respond. He wasn't interested in the typical games. He just enjoyed my company; it was very simple. The fact that he wouldn't engage in the typical relationship shenanigans I used to get embroiled in was proof he was different, special, consistent. The kind of man you marry.
But I still broke up with him on two different occasions. And when I did, I found I was miserable. I also knew he was not the kind of guy who is a pushover and will wait around like a lost puppy for a woman. We still hung out regularly because we had a professional relationship and he still treated with me kindness and respect. Again, it was so unlike the treatment I had gotten from other men. I came to the realization that I was going to ruin the best relationship I'd ever had because I was scared and had lost the ability to trust anyone, most of all myself.
So I took a leap, and after a few months of getting my mental game together, I made a commitment that I was going to do everything within my power to not ruin this relationship and asked if he'd give it another shot. Even if it ended, it wasn't going to be because of my inability to love, trust, and change. And almost miraculously - I did change. I committed. He committed. We grew.
Marriage was the logical culmination of our dating, and the beginning of the most profound relationship I've ever shared with another human being. As a result, I've healed a lot of my past wounds. And that is why I neglected to mention them in my first post, they are distant memories to me, they don't hurt me anymore. But I have to realize not everyone knows what it's like to be able to forget their pain like that. Many people are living those painful moments right now.
I guess the point of writing this is to show I know how you feel. My advice to "just get married" comes from a place of joy, and perhaps, a naive hope that everyone can skip the damage of dating and get to the good part. But I also want to acknowledge my past, and say that the road for me was in no way easy. But it was worth it.
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