A Married Girl’s Guide to Staying That Way

A few posts caught my attention over the last few days, all posing questions about marriage.

How do you know when you’ve found "the one"?

Why get married? Does it serve a purpose?

Would a Seven Year Contract make more sense than Lifelong commitment?

My own parents divorced when I was in college. In fact, I supported the decision. They were unhappy, so I figured, why not break it off? In retrospect, my views as an immature 19 year old were pretty much worthless. Today I would have a different opinion, but as we mature, we learn from our past to inform our futures.

Since I’m happily married and intend to stay that way, I thought I’d offer my views on what makes a marriage successful. I’m approaching my 9 month wedding anniversary, so many of you will feel tempted to smack me for broaching this subject, but I’ve witnessed successful marriages, and I’ve been lucky to have great examples to follow. Plus, I want to hear from you too, what do you think it takes to stay happily married? Here are my thoughts:

1. Don’t Demonize Each Other. When I first moved in with Mike after our engagement, I was comfortable complaining about the slightest inconvenience, until I realized how annoying I was to live with. A humbling experience is when you complain to your husband about his beard trimmings in the sink and then he points out your wicked habit of leaving empty paper bags all over the house. All. Over. The. House. I never knew I did that. If you were to walk in our house right now – I can guarantee you’d trip over a bag and there will be some beard hairs on the sink. But we’ve learned to accept a few of each other’s quirks and save the battles for things that really matter.

2. Make All Your Decisions As a Team. When Mike mentioned this bedrock of his parent’s marriage I was baffled. “You mean, the person closest at hand didn’t just decide?” As a child I would ask permission from whichever parent I thought would grant me a wish. That’s how I ended up enraging my mother with a waterbed purchase in high school, or how my dad was often blindsided by expenses for lessons or camps my mom might sign me up for. When you are both in on a decision, it will be better for the marriage and bring you closer, helping distill to what is critical. Mike might want to buy a new guitar or I might want to quit my job to become a yoga instructor, but together we are more likely include and understand the impact on the other person, not just pursue what will give us our jollies.

3. But You Say He’s Just a Friend. What do you do when the guy in your office wants to go running after work, or the woman at the coffee shop has an extra ticket to the basketball game? Do you say yes? This might sound painfully obvious to some, but I swear I see it all the time. “Oh, we’re just friends.” Here’s a whopping clue: your new playmate wants to sleep with you, steal your money, or both. You might be flattered that even when you’re “off the market” people can’t seem to keep their grubby mugs off of you, or you might be genuinely oblivious. Either way, it can lead to trouble, so just say no. If you need to befriend someone for networking purposes, find a nonchalant way to work your spouse into the conversation, or have him/her meet up with you at some point once business is taken care of. Nothing screams commitment like meeting it face to face.

4. Don’t EVER Say Mean Things About Your Spouse’s Family Members. Ever. Even if your wife tells you all the time she hates her parents, or your husband wants to strangle his brother (neither example autobiographical) don’t get comfortable spouting your own opinions about your spouse’s relations. Like them or not, these are the people who made your better half who they are today. If you have an issue with a family member, find a tactful way to raise your concerns. Never come outright and say, “Your dad is a total idiot.” It’s not okay. Think of a time someone has done that to you? I bet you didn’t like it. In fact, I almost got into a fist fight with a woman who called my mom a bitch. We had words. Very public words. Don’t go there.

5. Pretend You Met Today. Challenge yourself to discover new things about your significant other. What would you say to strike up conversation if they were a total stranger? Since I’m a newlywed, a lot of my old friends are still meeting Mike for the first time and they’ll grill him with questions I haven’t yet covered! For example, it’s exciting to hear his views on art history, or the time he went to a poetry slam in Chicago, things I know nothing about, so wouldn't have thought to ask. I try to ask questions beyond the, “Hey, how was work?” and get him to talk about ideas, feelings, or impressions.

These are the ideas I feel have made a difference in my marriage so far. The bottom line is a successful marriage takes work, acquiring skills, and paying attention to keep it that way, just like any other worthwhile venture.

I’d love to hear more great ideas, examples, or stories of successful relationships. Married people aren’t the only ones with something to offer either. Speak up:

What are other ideas you use with your significant other, partner or spouse?

If you are single, or divorced, what are some things you feel kept relationships from being successful?

Rare Advice for Falling in Love

As a madly in love, happily married woman who recently (and I think successfully) hooked up two of her single friends, I have garnered priceless love data. I have researched my findings with other happily married or otherwise paired couples and I'm willing to share now that I've tested it on someone else.

1. Go for Quantity, Not Quality: If you are still single and looking for love, you need to go on as many dates as humanly possible. You need to ask your friends, co-workers, and yes, even your parents to hook you up. Try internet dating. As long as you meet in public, with whom it matters not. Like the efficient market theory, I believe in the efficient dating theory: that eventually by wading through all the crap you will find a priceless commodity, the one you don't trade up for because you've found a mate that will make your love equity skyrocket.

2. Hold Your Tongue: Like having sex on the first date, learn to say “No” to sharing the first thing that comes to mind in the frenzy of feelings that ensues when you first think you’ve found The One. Learn to walk the fine line between intimacy and annoyance. After a week or so, we tend to get comfortable, clingy, and our feelings get hurt if The One isn't following the puppetry of our expectations. That's when things start getting weird. Just don't say anything. I don't mean lie, or withhold important matters. Simply, don't be quick to judge or harshly opine with your new mate. You don't know anything about them, and be assured, though you find their beard trimming habits tragic, or their politics dismal, they will find your inability to leave the house without doubling back three times, or affinity for sci-fi equally horrendous.

3. No More Hairy Eyeball: You'll know you are in love when you are out and about, oblivious to glances from other potential suitors. I can say with assurance (sorry guys) that with every other boyfriend, I'd still be receptive to flirting with other guys. However, it all went away when I was dating my husband. It was like other men no longer existed in time and space. And on the off chance that my eyes met theirs, instead of getting all tingly inside, I'd laugh. A maudlin laugh as if seeing a sad clown, knowing that he could never capture my attention when I'd already got it so good.

4. Bridge Burning: Probably the most significant, and cathartic revelation in love is when you willingly, and happily, remove remnants from the wayward past you shared with various exes. I recommend gleefully cheering "Burn those bridges!" as you proceed. Deleting old phone numbers and ridiculous love emails is a delight, mementos you couldn’t bear to toss are now donated without mourning, and the only photos you keep are group shots or events you want to remember, not the singular poses of a beloved that used to arouse your affection. They now leave you unstirred.

Learn from me because I once was a bitter single woman. Painfully existing through the solitude of ice cream binges and Law & Order marathons alone. Ice cream and Law & Order are just so much better with a husband to share them.

Go get a room.

Or if you are not ready for commitment, try a small step, like subscribing to Shouting to Quiet the Thunder.

Our Cell Phones Are Disconnecting

Three friends are seated at an outdoor café, sipping coffee, their eyes resemble a congealed glaze, yet their brains doubtless working maniacally, their thumbs moving fiercely, fighting to communicate over fiber optic channels...the relentless tap tap tap against multi-hued PDAs signals utmost urgency…perhaps a child has fallen ill, their sister has gone into labor, or a lover arrived from a year long military station. When they do get a moment to stop, breathe, converse with each other, the stunning nature of their communications is revealed…

Did you know my RAZR comes with a heightened sense of importance, allowing me to interrupt people mid-thought, talk louder than necessary, and grimace at sales clerks as I order a cappuccino while simultaneously fighting with my nanny?

Oh yeah? The BlackBerry's new feature allows me to text pointless babble, straddle two lanes in 80 mph traffic without consequence, and look hot doing it!

I’ve got you both beat, my iPhone automatically adopts children from impoverished nations with a direct debit from my bank account, downloads a new podcast from The Secret daily, and could basically save the world if we’d only let it…Shhh!…it’s ringing…

While I don’t go so far as to deify my cellphone, I’ve been guilty of a social faux pas or two. My cell phone has inadvertently dialed friends in the middle of the night, gone off at inappropriate times, and I’ve performed the classic This’ll Only Take a Second charade, complete with accompanying hand motions indicating the person on the other end of the line is such a talker.

Sadly, these improprieties are becoming norms, saying “I don’t care about you because whatever message, download, or ringtone coming through is far more important than present company." This only serves to push us away from each other, making the speed at which we communicate useless if we aren’t really connecting. I understand that leveraging technology to enhance communication can be productive and satisfying, but I’m skeptical that every situation warrants immediate interruption and response.

Here’s the instruction manual I wish companies included with each electronic device purchase that we could all learn to follow:

Thank you for the purchase of your new Personal Digital Assistant, here are a few tips to make usage easier to swallow for those around you:

1. Feel Free to Speak at a Normal Volume: Our engineers work tirelessly to develop micro-transmitters that will adequately amplify your voice, allowing normal conversation levels to be audible with great accuracy.

2. Not Everything is Cause for Interruption: Try to be discerning about cutting off our friends mid-sentence to text or answer a call. We hope our product can help foster communication so that the next time you contact someone they still find you a person worth talking to.

3. No One Likes Your Ringtone But You: Our product is neither meant to serve as a personal soundtrack, nor does it enhance your appearance upon ringing, no matter what song or sound effect is playing, trust us. We understand you may not always remember to place it on silent, but at least try to look apologetic when it goes off during a movie or symphony, and for God’s sake, don’t answer it.

I'm looking for reader input on this one, got something to add?

Six Months to Live

I read an alarmist article in The New York Times yesterday about how blogging is bad for your health. Though I approached it with a wary eye, I raced to the finish to make certain I wasn’t in the category of blogger waiting in line for the reaper.

It’s not that I really had an inkling that blogging would kill me, but that my lifestyle would; which I think was the crux of this author’s misplaced thesis. He was trying to get to the point that high strung people can have a tendency to work themselves to death, and that happens to include people who blog for a living. His argument was mistaking correlation with causation. But that’s neither here nor there…the point is: chasing goals at the expense of a balanced life (whether you are a blogger, an attorney, or a prairie dog farmer) is not good for your well-being.

In what I would consider my formative work years, I had a mentor who would often encourage me to keep my eyes on the prize and proclaim, “You’ll sleep in six months!” Meaning, when I complained of being tired, she reminded me of my deadlines and the day I could finally rest and enjoy the fruits of my labors as a reward. Only six months never, ever came. I’m still waiting. Like waiting for a signal from a lover that you think you’ve finally won over, each time you get a call, a knock on the door, you think your dozen roses has arrived.

So, I’ve been working hard, harder still, and wondering why I'm so tired all the time. All my goals I set out six months more, the problem is, I’ve never stopped to enjoy myself, to sit back and say, “Now that’s a job well done.” With each accomplishment I’ve only perceived marginal success and said, “Well, that’s done…what now?” My frenzy to finish lines all over my life has led me to seek the high of exertion, not the bliss of recovery. I have been chasing dreams, and fantasies of better days, which have limited usefulness if you never complete them by enjoying them.

I have a suspicion that you must become the kind of person who can appreciate themselves, their accomplishments and stop fantasizing that constant work will get you anywhere faster or happier.

In my own experience, it’s led to a world of regret. I know that my relationship with my father is too profound for splitting hairs like, “Well, he missed my high school choir concerts, so it’s okay that I went to work while he had his chemo treatments.” But I do it. Silently in the back of my mind I do it. And I regret it. Big regret. My father lived and worked hard too, I always envied his ability to work, concentrate, achieve. And perhaps he's so much a part of me that it led to me distancing myself during times of tragedy and diving into work when life got tough. This is a reaction many people have. But. I regret it. And perhaps he regretted missing those concerts.

There is an interesting rule of propriety that I recently learned. A manner’s expert said that when you’ve committed a faux pas or major gaffe, the appropriate course of action is to briefly acknowledge and apologize for it, then move on as if everything is normal. Continuing to address your problem with the person you’ve offended will only cause them to feel the need to further comfort you for your mistake, thereby shifting the burden of your impropriety onto them. This is terribly bad taste, she indicates. She accurately points out that everyone feels better when they can just move on with things.

I see a parallel with regret. No one truly sets out to do their worst, that's why we call things "mistakes." And by recognizing where we’ve f-ed up along the way, we can apologize to people or to the Gods, and then set out to correct our life's course. I can sit around and continue to ruminate on my bad choices, but it does my father’s memory a disservice. The appropriate thing is to recognize my mistakes, learn from them, and change. No one wants to hear me apologize and return to business as usual. So, I choose change. Painful, life-renewing change. That’s all we have to live for. My six months is coming. And I mean it this time.

The Little Things

Today was a good day because:

1. As I walked in my house tonight, my husband was in a growling match with our dog. He'd ferreted out where Kiynago was protecting a stash of rotten steak he'd absconded with after ransacking our garbage. Watching Mike hover over Kiynago in a 5 minute stare-down made my heart swell with pride that I have a man who will bother while a rugrat postures against him, and I think this in some weird way proves he'll be a good dad. Or least be able to find our kid's drug stash and yell at him until he repents. It was one of the funniest things I've ever seen and for only that moment I wished I was one of those people with a cell phone video camera.

2. My mother, who reads my blog and still loves me, sent me an e-card from "Tut's Adventurers Club" with a picture of handprints that read:
All your work and effort!!
Dear Mileni,
"Who you are shouts so loudly ....." that even Emerson would have a hard time completing his statement when it comes to you. Thank you for touching so many of our people with your beautiful voice.
Love,
Mama
PS. I have the little handprints that your Montessori teacher, Lor, made for each student. He was so right.

There is so much cute about that I don't even know where to begin. She was referring to my performance this weekend. My mom is my number one fan, but that doesn't mean she is not a critic too, I can count on her for honesty. I don't think she has ever missed a performance either, except when I was in Italy...

3. There are things that beep. Seriously, I take these items for granted. I was just thinking about how if my car light thingy didn't beep, I'd never turn them off, like I did in my old Toyota Corolla which was perpetually stalled.

I'm Shouting, Can You Hear Me?

Rebecca Thorman, of Modite, says she feels like she is in a movie when it comes to her job. In fact, she wrote a post in response to my urging her for more info. She loves her job. And I'm truly happy for her.

But because I’m a cynic I immediately wonder what percentage of the time she feels like that, thinking, “Without that information there is no way for me to adequately measure my life against hers…” And this is where my glaring problem shines in all it’s, uh, brilliance.

I sometimes feel like I’m in a movie too. As it relates to my marriage, there are times when I’m in a sweeping love story, my heart full of adoration for a man who was lunatic enough to love me back. At times I feel I could die right then and there, fulfilled. However, as a friend of mine recently noted, "You are married to the love of your life and you're still not happy!" as we mused about discontent we were facing. I have problems even a wonderful husband can't fix. Most of the time I run at a frenetic pace, evaluating my life and job, measuring paychecks against dreams of fulfilling careers and parenthood, and grasping at threads in my relationships with family and friends.

Most of the time I am not a movie, but a mess. And this my grand thrust, that not only is life not about pleasing oneself, but it's simply not possible nor sustainable. It's about putting one foot in front of the other on whatever little path you care to eke out. Life isn’t about chasing a constant state of bliss, in one's job or love life. No matter how great your job or love life is.

And because I feel this way, I'm baffled and oddly enraged when I read Rebecca's blog. I cannot put my finger on where this rage comes from but, I found this quote by author William Gass on one of my new favorite blogs by Professor Gina Barreca which at least makes me feel like I'm not alone:

" ‘Getting even is one great reason for writing,’ said William Gass in a Paris Review interview. ‘I write because I hate. A lot. Hard. And if someone asks me the inevitable next dumb question, ‘Why do you write the way you do?’ I must answer that I wish to make my hatred acceptable because my hatred is much of me, if not the best part. Writing is a way of making the writer acceptable to the world — every cheap, dumb, nasty thought, every despicable desire, every noble sentiment, every expensive taste.‘ "

That’s my hatred I think Mr. Gass is talking about. I do not hate Rebecca, but I get jostled because she keeps prodding where I’m giving up. I hate that. She seems too hopeful, too liberal. Too much like the person I used to be. I’m mad at myself, so it’s no wonder I get mad at her too. I’m thinking, “I’ve become responsible and fallen in line…shouldn’t everyone else?” What I really want to say begins with, “Do you understand…” and ends with, “f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ckety f*ck!” But I’ll spare everyone the full diatribe.

I know she doesn’t write her posts with my specific situation in mind, she is catering to a broad audience, people with perhaps less psychological stress than myself. But don’t feel bad for me, that’s not what I’m trying to get at. I don’t feel sorry for myself. I keep going. I don’t give up, but I feel entitled to a bad attitude.

I have sought relief at every turn. My husband and his family suggest faith, a therapist I recently saw suggested a low-dose anti-depressant, my mother suggested meditation and my sister suggested kundalini yoga. I don’t think these things can help me. But you know what does? This blog. Writing, getting angry, putting a paragraph or ten on the internet for someone out there to read, ignore, hate, find salvation in, or whatever.

That’s why I think my name’s pseudo-Chinese translation immediately resonated with me: Shouting to Quiet the Thunder. It’s a neat little metaphor for my life. You will never out-shout thunder: it’s louder, it’s bigger, it could crush you. (Sonically speaking.) But like David and Goliath, just keep on trying. Keep fucking trying, you know?

Trust Me

Read this powerful, simple, and poignant post by Gina Barreca – a professor and writer I happened upon today who I instantly loved.

If you have a loved one nearing death – don’t be shy about asking them these kinds of questions. Obviously only you can gauge your relationship and what you are comfortable sharing, but these are the times to go out on a limb for communication’s sake.

Trust me.

I'm Not Feeling Like Myself Lately

When someone dies or another tragedy happens, you tend to start doing things you wouldn't normally. You become more honest w/ yourself and others. Either because it matters so much or because nothing matters at all anymore.

You start telling your dad's girlfriend how much he loved her, when before you didn't really ever want to see her, much less speak to her. You asked him not to bring her to your wedding. Now, you look at her with eyes of love, like he must have. You love her for making him happy.

You start telling your mother to stop talking gibberish, you get mad at her for telling people her "husband" died. They had been divorced for 10 years. And living together ever since. He in the basement, she in the master bedroom.

You start telling people things "Like it is." Like it matters. If they ask you how you feel you say, "Well, crappy. Pretty horrible, but what are you going to do." They either understand, or shuffle off confused. My cousin Annie wrote a moving post shortly after my dad died. Along with her blog and the comments (Thank You) my experiences of the conversations that ensued were echoed: the people you talk to are quickly sorted into "People Who Knew Death" and "People Who Didn't", as described by one commenter.

You also start caring about exercise for the first time since the long days spent seated next to a hospital bed. Not just because you want to become skinnier, but because you are actually concerned with your health, so you don't get cancer too. Although you begin to fear just about anything can cause it, pre-disposition or not. Your dad went in under 4 months from time of diagnosis. Boom.

And then you are suddenly thinking about where to store ashes (jewelry is kind of nice, or a paperweight?), how to close down a dead man's checking account, or who is going to wear all his jeans and t-shirts, imagining yourself wearing them to bed, and you wonder if you should take up wood-working since he left behind so many tools and you start to have these crazy crazy thoughts that seem so normal considering who you've been forced to become.

You start to work through your lunches and not really care all that much about eating like you used to. You realize that your craving for chips as a distraction is really just that, you can wait. You waited all day to eat when your dad was dying.

Things become frighteningly clear. You learn the real definitions of things. My mom told me of when she lost her father that a friend asked her what it was like to lose her dad. She replied, "I've learned the true meaning of the word never."

Even though you get some insight you may not change your actions or have the power to change all that much. It's not necessarily about that. I know people do crazy things after an epiphany, quit their jobs, have affairs, spend all their money, eat cookies all day. They are running away. My best friend said after I told her I wanted to try to run away from my problems, "You aren't just going to be running away, you are going to be running towards something."

The last word: Keep runnin'.