Marriage, Moving, and My Wife: A Reflection after Three Years

Today is July 12, 2017. Exactly three years ago today, July 12, 2014, was the best day of my life.

I've spent the last few weeks watching Annie excitably develop and organize this blog, consistently using phrases like 'us' and 'we' and 'our' in reference to it. I've caught the hints, the urgings, and the not-so subtle reminders that I am wanted to be an active part of it. That this experience is about documenting our lives together, not just hers. And I've struggled with this premise. While there are several reasons I haven't posted yet, one jumps out at me the most. 

I wish I could tell you today that I held off on posting anything because I wanted to save it for our anniversary - for a surprise post. But alas, that would paint myself in too kindly of a light. No, I feigned non-interest in it due to one of my most glaring shortcomings as a husband, and often as a friend: The mindset that any idea that isn't mine, or in part mine, must not be that good of an idea. 

I fight it. I'm aware of it.

But I can feel the pangs of it rear up anytime my gut doesn't want to go along with someone else's vision or plans.

With that weakness in mind, I hoped to use this post as a way to expose and challenge my own weaknesses while reflecting on how it is that after three years Annie still wakes up in the morning and chooses to call herself my wife.

So, Annie, while I am directing this towards a wider audience, know that, like every other anniversary since our first in 2010, these words are ultimately for you.

_ _ _

Your elders will tell you the first years will be easy. They will tell you the first years will be hard. After three years, I can't speak as a seasoned veteran, only as myself, but what I believe is this:

Marriage is not something to be spoken of as an adjective (easy, hard, smooth, stressful). Marriage, when done correctly, is just a way of being. A form of existence. A state change. Marriage is the coming together of two ingredients to create something new. It is a conscious decision to give up part of your old identity in search of something better. Which brings me to my ultimate point:

Be sure of the person you are marrying. They permanently alter who you are.

Our generation is obsessed with the subjective. Obsessed with the gratification of self. We are told by every media outlet, inspirational blogger, Instagram post, and TED talk that our life's purpose is self-actualization. We as millennials have committed fully to the premise that in seeking out our ultimate self we best fulfill our purpose in the world. While the underlying principle of this is good, I would argue that this makes modern marriages more and more difficult.

Self-actualization and finding your purpose are noble pursuits. But they are ultimately egocentric - they center around the self. The reason I think so many young marriages fail is because we refuse to sacrifice any of ourselves. We are convinced that giving up part of ourselves would weaken us, make us lesser. But we fail to realize that in giving up part of ourselves we make room for part of someone else.

In my own life, the hardest part of this for me has been giving up absolute control. I prefer to control every aspect of my life - my look, my public image, my diet, my fitness, I like to know that I am directing where things are going. But in marriage, you are now not just attempting to control the trajectory of one, but two. Over three years of marriage I have struggled with this premise.

When Annie began her process of searching for Residency Programs I told myself that I was excited - a new opportunity! But to be honest - the idea freaked me out: A rank list and an algorithm would decide where I would spend the next four years of my life. That same algorithm would be telling me that my wife had a direction for the next four years while my own would be pulled out from under me. I would be expected to find something else somewhere new.

Looking back, I failed to be there for Annie for much of this experience because of my own fear. Instead of openly discussing my fears and control-issues, I checked-out. Told Annie to make the decisions, rank locations, and pick apartments. "I'm good anywhere!" "I'm easy to please!" "I can teach anywhere!"

 If I couldn't control everything, it seemed in the moment better for me to control nothing. At least then I could blame someone else if things did not go my way.

It wasn't until Annie brought it to my attention did I realize what I was doing. Only then did I realize the mistake I was making. In struggling to see my own purpose or direction I was failing to seek out OUR direction. While thinking of what's best for the collective US does not come so naturally to me, Annie astounds me in her ability to consider my needs. I thank God for that.

I ultimately had two choices. Either I could hold onto my own desires and identities, let my frustration at lack of control seep into our marriage. Or I could decide to sacrifice part of my own self in the interest of the collective US. 

The beauty of all of this is that I didn't have the strength to make the correct decision on my own. I know what the right thing to do is. But I needed Annie to get there. In opening up, sacrificing myself, I make room for her. I ultimately become better. A better husband, yes. But this growth seeps over to all parts of my life. A more loving son, a more empathetic teacher, a more dedicated citizen...

Be sure of the person you are marrying. They permanently alter who you are.

I am a different man today than I was July 12, 2014. I am a different man today than I was January 1, 2009. Three years of marriage, eight and a half years of being together - I am the man I am today because of her.

While yes, I've sacrificed parts of myself to make it to where we are today, I've maintained my core principles - passion, drive, inspiration. I've grown and developed those and I've even sharpened them against Annie's determination, brilliance, and commitment. We sacrifice part of ourselves to become a stronger self as a part of a whole.

In short: Without Annie I am not sure of the man I would be today - but I'm absolutely sure that I don't want to find out.

Footfalls echo in the memory

Down the passage which we did not take

Towards the door we never opened.

-TS Eliot

Annie - Thank you. I love you. For as long as is meant to be.