I haven’t written much about love since getting married. Not because of a lack of its presence in my life; more because there is so much, and it is so utterly sufficient. The feelings of angst and pining are gone, and the fit is right. Not too tight or too loose; room for us each to learn and change and grow (as all humans need to do) without sustained pressure on painful points, but at the same time intertwined enough to feel secure. Safe. Anchored. Sometimes there’s discomfort in an adjustment here or there, but then that is what we do—continue adjusting until we reach mutual comfort. Which is what every healthy relationship does. What else is there to say, and how interesting to outside parties could it possibly be? As Tolstoy famously said, “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”
That’s not to say life in general is perfect, or that marriage hasn’t been a learning process. My husband and I have said several times to one another that we love each other more and are happier together now even than when we first got married, which is evidence of the growth we have done both individually and as a couple.
How did that happen? I think when people read marriage-type posts from married people, especially people they know identify as “Christian”, there are certain themes they expect to be present. And, because some of my most significant areas of growth and joy in marriage don’t have a ton to do with those themes, I considered not writing a marriage-type post at all. It wouldn’t necessarily encourage other couples to “live sacrificially” (though self-sacrifice definitely has its place) or constantly “die to themselves”. It wouldn’t talk about how it’s so worth it to me to give up certain passions or parts of my personality for the sake of “peace in the home”. It wouldn’t read like a gym membership testimonial, convincing readers through a tight smile that the daily exhaustion and burning pain is really awesome if you think about it cause it’s really just so good for you in the long run, you know?
Being happier together and more in love four years after our wedding day than even than we were in the weeks and months following it was not something we expected. Mostly, we had heard that marriage is hard. That it’s work. “It’s not supposed to make you happy; it’s supposed to make you holy.” That the honeymoon doesn’t last; that it only goes downhill from the moment you say “I Do”. No one told us that it could get better. Like, way better. That it’s only “hard” in the sense that anything in life that’s rewarding, worth doing well, and takes some practice is “hard”. That between the times of work, it’s FUN. That it can be sanctifying AND bring happiness.
No one told us it could be this good. I understand the desire to prepare new couples for marriage by telling them, “Marriage can be difficult; don’t give up at the first bumps in the road.” But the near-constant emphasis on the “difficult” point created an incredible amount of anxiety. I wish there had been more voices saying, “This is good. This is edifying. This is fulfilling and rewarding and fun and comforting. Every close relationship has its conflicts but you can work those out. You can. You’ll be fine. This is not a trap. It’s not a trick question. Go forth and be happy together.”
Realizing that a long-term commitment can be (and STAY) wonderful changed my approach to that “work” they talk about in marriage (that work that is present in any art or skill one hopes to become proficient in). At first, I did that work out of fear. Trying to stave off that seemingly inevitable time when we would (apparently) get bored with one another, resent each other, feel as if simply the act of being kind and faithful to one another was so difficult it was deserving of sainthood. Maybe if I did everything right, maybe if we worked really hard right from the beginning, we could hold that off as long as possible.
Now that I’ve experienced the phenomenon of our relationship getting even better four years into marriage, I approach that work differently. Now it’s not frantic. Now it’s not about avoiding being stuck in misery. Now it feels more like tending to a long-term art project or a bonsai tree: continuing to sculpt, perfect, and customize this beautiful thing we have together as time goes on and life happens.
The work itself has changed a bit too.
As a woman in the Evangelical church, essentially I was taught that I needed to conform myself to a husband’s every preference. If he prefers long hair over short, obviously I should keep my hair long. If certain outfits aren’t his preference, of course I shouldn’t wear them. And a tattoo or a piercing he wasn’t absolutely in love with? That would be utter, callous betrayal of any claim I’d ever made to care about his feelings.
I was taught to be easy, agreeable, passive; opinionated only when my opinion aligned with his.
Any individuality I had would be subject to sacrifice, if my husband found it distasteful. This was my moral duty as a wife, and if I failed, who could blame a husband for “looking elsewhere”, or no longer caring to spend quality time with me, or any number of things?
Now, anyone who has known me for any length of time knows that I have an extremely difficult time suppressing my…individuality. Earlier in life—early in marriage—I attributed this to a lack of self-control on my part. My efforts to repress so much of what made me “me”—trying to fit myself as much as I could into that “good Christian wife” mold—caused me so much anxiety.
But I was blessed to marry a man who has no desire to control me or suppress my individuality, and over time and talking that finally sunk in. Little by little, I came more into myself, and as he continued to accept what I showed him, my anxiety lessened. I became more assertive. And our bond grew stronger.
I’m married to someone who sees the value in letting their spouse be fully who they are instead of trying to force them into a certain mold or tame their growth, and that’s allowed me to continually embrace the call to my authentic self with freedom and joy.
I no longer see my inability to conform—or the anxiety I felt when I tried—as a personality flaw, like I’d always assumed it was. Now I see that I was made to be this person, and that fully embracing who I am is not only ok; it is a celebration of who God made me to be. My journey of self-acceptance has had many facets and detours, many allies and saboteurs. But being married to someone who loves me because of—not in spite of—who I am, even as I change and grow as a person, has been utterly key and incredibly healing.
But in order for him to know, understand, and love who I am, I needed to explain myself at times. Growing in assertiveness—not simply ceding my every preference to his because that’s what a good wife does—was necessary for me.
Of course, my acceptance of him is equally vital. He’s a compassionate, empathetic, intelligent, hard-working man who is so wonderful in dealing with the challenges of having a chronically ill spouse, so he makes it pretty easy.
We don’t agree on everything all the time, and it’s been important for us to realize that that’s ok. At times we’ve had different opinions, different beliefs, different preferences. But we’ve learned to respect one another’s emotional, spiritual, mental, and physical autonomy.
Allowing one another to be individuals—not only allowing it but enthusiastically supporting it—has been invaluable for the happiness of our marriage; for our ability to thrive and enjoy life with one another.
There’s a lot more I could say about generally healthy marriage advice. But the realization of the importance of individuality and autonomy (having those things, and having them be fully supported by one’s spouse) was such a surprise to me after what I was taught that that’s what I thought was worth writing about. The other stuff you can find elsewhere. The Gottman Institute, founded by Drs. Julie and John Gottman, is an amazing resource for many different kinds of relationships (but especially those of the long-term romantic variety). Also never be afraid to meet with a therapist a time or two. They’re experts in human thought and emotion; it just makes sense to consult an expert if things start to feel tangled up.
So yeah. I guess if you want to feel like you’re married to your best friend, treat your spouse like your best friend. A whole, fun, quirky, flawed, amazing, beautifully imperfect human being who you make dumb jokes with and tell your thoughts to and try your best not to hurt and have no compulsion to control or manipulate. You’re not responsible for them nor they for you, but you both ask for help when you need it and you gladly provide it to one another. Don’t be stingy with empathy and fondness, and don’t forget that you matter, too. Anticipate joy together. It’s totally accessible.
This is not a trap.
It’s not a trick question.
You can do this.
Go forth and be happy together.
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