Marriage is interesting. Challenging. Befuddling. At least it is to me.
I’ve been a party to this institution for some-20-odd years now. Married to my husband since October 1994, and together since July 1993.
I can’t say all these years have all been fun. They’ve been a thousand other things, which I suppose points to the richness of marriage. But also to the frequent challenges. I find myself angry or frustrated with my partner more times that I could count. I sometimes feel lonely in our relationship, neglected, unseen, unheard, not valued, ignored – and yet, he’s a nice guy, a steady guy who loves me and cares about our family.
So what the hell is the problem?
Me. I’m sure whatever is going on is mostly with – and about – me.
After my last round of cycling through myriad strong feelings seemingly about my husband just this past week, I was exhausted and thankful to have moved on with him into a better place. One that was more neutral and positive. One in which I had some time and space to reflect.
Perhaps that’s why, last night, around 3 AM I had a related “ah-ha” moment. Perhaps, because I asked the questions – Why? And just what the hell is going on? – I got an answer that makes sense to me. And it had to do with my writing.
The awareness that dawned on me carried this message: when I don’t write, I literally go crazy. So I need to write, daily. I need to do this as acts of self-care and self-preservation. To ground me. I must write, I must, I must.
It’s that important for me. I get it now. Whether I prioritize my writing in a day – or not – seems a critical factor in my mental and emotional (and probably physical) health, and the health of the relationships with the various others in my life.
Perhaps those recurrent feelings of not being seen or heard or valued and ignored by my husband have to do with my relationship with myself. And for some reason I project my feelings onto my husband, to whom I turn when I’m lost. And I suppose I’ve felt lost lately. Perhaps my inner desperation about our relationship is merely reflecting the desperation I feel when I allow everything else in my life to take priority over me and my writing.
So I will make a resolution to write. I need to make time to do it, to meet myself on the page, daily.
It’s a valuable insight or theory that I will test. It resonates, it makes sense, so I’ll go with it. Already I feel better – more upbeat and lighter – from blogging yesterday and today. Writing helps me process my life. I need this too. So I will keep on this path and see where it leads.
Hopefully into health and peace and a more stable mood.
May it be so.