A lot on my mind and heart so let’s get to it. Read more…
It’s been a while since I’ve written about anything on this blog, mainly because I haven’t had much to write about. But after Shady Grove Fertility, which I will henceforth refer to as SGF, highlighted the brief mention I gave them on my end-of-summer update, I decided that I want to write about my TTC (trying to conceive) experience and the incredible role SGF and its staff played in my fertility journey. (I will be using the pronouns “my” and “me,” but please recognize that this fertility journey is really an “us” and “we” experience that includes my spouse.) P.S. This post may be a bit on the long side, so settle in with a nice cup of coffee or tea. Read more…
The first year of marriage was the toughest for my husband and me. I had just moved to Kentucky, the place where he was employed, after 23 years of living in New York. I was homesick for my family, I was homesick for my friends, and I was in the throes of depression (or little did I know at the time it was bipolar disorder).
It was difficult to adjust to living with a new person after having lived at home with my parents and grandma for years. He had a completely different culture and different habits than what I grew up with. This made for an interesting clash.
It wasn’t just difficult but it was… different. He grew up on pasta and mashed potatoes, and I grew up on rice and beans. He wanted a clean dining room table, and I had a stack of papers that always covered the table.
After 2 years of arguments, fighting, and a hospitalization for depression on my end, things got better. We settled into an easy routine of working together, compromising, and learning each other’s habits.
I’ve heard a lot of people say that marriage is not easy, that you have to work at it. For the first two years, I found that to be true. My husband could have easily walked away from me. I had nights where I thought about driving home or driving anywhere to be away from him. (In fact, I did try that one night but I got lost and everything was dark and scary so I turned right around and went home.)
But love is a choice. And I’ve learned that every day, we must choose to love each other. That’s what makes a marriage work. The dependence on my “feelings” of love left long ago. Now, I wake up choosing to love this man who also chooses to love me. We do not fight often, but we do not have a perfect marriage. We get annoyed with each other at times. But we work through it. If I go to bed upset, I usually wake forgetting what I was upset about.
Perhaps that is also the key to a good marriage: a poor memory.
I enjoy my marriage. I cannot imagine being married to anyone else who would treat me as well as my husband does. This is not a post to extol his virtues, but rather to praise the blessings God has heaped upon our marriage. In spite of our differences, we have been able to work together as a team, as partners, to make this unlikely marriage succeed.
I hope I’m not speaking too early or out of turn. We’ve only been married seven years, but I look forward to being married for seventy-seven more.
This is what it will be when I get it published:
Because you saw this back in 1988 with Sarah’s Boots. I miss you.
Every time I’m away from a computer (like, oh say, when I’m driving), I begin composing a blog post in my head. Now that I’m actually at a computer, my brain is blank.
I’m working three different jobs at the moment and about to lose my mind: the library, proofreading at an ad agency, and editing a book. I’m not used to working three different jobs in 12 hours. It’s actually rather tiring. I need downtime or I get cranky and miserable.
I’ve accepted that I’m not called to be a parent for a while. It’s a difficult thing, but I’m trying to be okay with it. Especially since it seems like every month that goes by leaves someone else who I know with the happy knowledge of a new addition to the family. I really don’t want to be whining/complaining about this 5 years from now. (Yes, I know I whine and complain about this.)
I’ve decided that God’s basically testing to me to see if I will continue to love Him despite what I can’t get. In my pain and suffering, I can’t see that so much. It just feels like He’s holding out on me. (And I still think that to some extent.) But if I ask my mom for something and she can’t give it to me, I don’t get mad at her and give her the cold shoulder. I get disappointed and grudgingly say “Ok” and move on. My love for my mom isn’t predicated on what she can give me. So why would I treat God like that? Maybe because I know everything is in God’s power so I expect He should do whatever I want? I don’t know; I’m really just typing out loud. (wink)
I’m learning (the hard way really) that just because someone is related to me doesn’t mean they need to/required to love me or care about me. Some do but it’s not necessarily something that everyone in my family holds true to. This knowledge is painful because it forces me to stop seeking love and approval from people I want to care about me. In some ways, it hurts worse than people who aren’t related to me but I have to stop treating certain family members like they should love me just because our parents are related. I need to let go of the hurt and pain I feel from them. I have tried to reach out to them as adults and I can’t break through their clique. It’s about time that I stop trying to fit into a clique. I’ve never been a clique sort of girl—ever—anyway.
Life isn’t the worst it’s ever been for me but it’s a very difficult, stressful time right now with a lot of changes occurring. I’m thinking of pursuing another career endeavor in which I could fail spectacularly. (If you’re going to fail, do it with flair, right?) I’m swimming in mounds of debt with the current of people I owe taking me under. I have a lot on my mind. I feel like a failure in a lot of ways. It’s difficult to stay positive and upbeat and believe the future holds better when things, in some respects, look so bleak.
I’m reading Bethenny Frankel’s latest book, A Place of Yes. Say what you want about the Real Housewife/entrepreneur but I love her to pieces. She is a typical New Yorker: frank, no-nonsense, tell-it-like-it-is, and in-your-face. It’s also the other reason I enjoyed Jillian Michaels’s book, Unlimited. I need reading material that inspires and motivates me without sugar-coating my weaknesses and problems that I create. And right now, I definitely need some of positive motivation.
And don’t get me started on where I’m at in my spiritual life right now…