—
First of all, thanks for marrying such a weird guy.
If it weren’t for you, I don’t know where I would be.
Probably out there somewhere, still searching for a partner, for someone to understand me for who I am.
I don’t say these things enough. So here they are now, all in one place.
You’ve freed up space in my life to be selfish, to focus on myself and my own interests
This is something I’ve thought a lot about lately.
Because I’m married, because I have you, I now have time which would be dedicated to dating, to searching, to wondering if I would ever meet “the one.”
In a strange way, now that I’m committed to one person — and one person only — for the rest of my life, my life has a structure. It’s like a beautiful porcelain bowl that I can fill in with new possibilities.
Much of my free time is spent writing, and I know you don’t always appreciate that.
I know you wondered if what I was doing was actually worthwhile, if it would ever lead anywhere.
Believe me, there were times — and there still are times — when I wonder that myself.
But you were there with your approval — sometimes taciturn and from a distance. Other times, you were unpretentious with your shows of supports — a comment to a friend here or a comment to one of your colleagues: “He runs a mental health blog,” you say with a proud smile.
It was a smile to recharge my flagging writing batteries after months of obsession and persistence, of sending my messages into the void.
You allow me to be who I am (Most of the time)
As you know, I’m a pretty strange person.
I’m goofy.
I flail around and annoy you in private (and, less often, in public.) I never stop trying to make you laugh.
“You think you’re funnier than you actually are,” you say with a grin that belies your words.
Thank you for listening to my whimsical plans for the future, to my stories laden with more details and more emotion that you often want to hear — and for tolerating anxious hashing and rehashing of past events.
You’ve helped me realize that a lack of interest in the moment does not negate me as a person; rather, it has helped me understand how to deliver my message effectively.
You’ve helped me see how to communicate in a way that doesn’t wear people out.
You’ve hammered in the truth that how you say something is just as important — if not more important — than what you say.
You help me keep my ego in check
Yesterday I came to you and told you about a presentation that I gave in one of my social work classes.
I told you, “I just got a 23 out of 25 on my presentation. I don’t know how I was expected to cover the history of the progressive education movement and John Dewey in fewer than 10 minutes. I packed it full of information, and my professor thought it was excellent. But I went over time, and I got docked two points, even though I crammed in as much information as possible. I can’t believe that.”
“But you went over the time limit. You didn’t follow the rules. I would have done the same thing to your grade.”
Poof. My growing ego deflated back to normal size. Thanks for that.
You’ve helped me come to terms with my ever-present anxiety
I know you have this within you, too.
I know that often my anxiety overshadows your anxiety, that my troubles overshadow your own, that my space encroaches upon your space.
I know that you get tired of all of this because you have your own issues.
And so I’ve learned that being there for you is also being there for myself.
That if I’m feeling down, it’s much more productive to transform those feelings into being there for you than to drone on about my own problems.
You’ve been there for me when I was at my worst, and that has given me the strength to be there for you and for others.
I know that a good relationship is a dance of giving and taking, and I’m trying to be more aware of when I’m taking and taking so that I can give and give more often.
You’ve helped me better know myself — and that is one of the best gifts I’ve ever received.
Your intelligence is something to be admired
And I don’t meant the typical definition of “intelligence.”
I don’t mean IQ. I’m talking about multiple intelligences.
Your social grace — so finely tuned that it took me years to believe that social situations might actually make you uncomfortable — is a sight to behold.
Your emotional intelligence and intricate knowledge of social patterns and relationship management — it’s oddly mechanical and esoteric at the same time.
Your ability to speak in public. Your adept use of humor when the situation calls for it.
Your ability to reduce complex concepts into tiny chunks so that you can then recombine them and extend them into a masterpiece of new understanding. That’s a rare and beautiful skill.
And you’re a rare and beautiful person.
I’m impressed by your undying dedication to family and traditions
You decided to keep your own name.
I still remember that hilarious, brief conversation months before we got married.
“So, are you going to change your name?” I asked.
“Are you going to take my name?” you immediately replied.
“Uh…no.”
“OK then.”
“OK then.”
Your brusque response was paired with an elegant answer.
About the meaning of your family name to your identity.
About the stories and traditions tied to your last name. About how you didn’t feel like you were somebody’s property.
My respect for you increased more and more.
And, again, my ego softened and a new perspective sharpened into focus.
You do it all
And at the end of the day, you do more than I do. It’s not even close.
You’ve worked in high-powered, demanding jobs in industries ruled by men.
I look at the patriarchy with an analytical, almost dispassionate eye. For you, it’s the world you live in. It’s reality.
You get talked at and talked down to. People at breweries tell you what kind of beer you’re most likely to enjoy before they ever bother to learn that you worked in a brewery and probably know more about beer than they do.
You stand up for yourself in a way that is protective but also disarming.
You win friends who should have been enemies, who would have been enemies if not for your cool, collected, and well-timed remarks.
You do work that society values, but you also do lots of work that society does not highly value — the hidden tasks that make a home run smoothly.
You are a mediator, a leader, a purveyor of good values and kind actions.
Paradoxically, by joining me in this life, you’ve added important constraints — clear boundaries which have given me the freedom to explore and find new meanings in my life.
You created the space for me to find you and, as a result, find myself.
You’ve taught me that how you do anything is how you do everything.
So I’m starting with small.
I’m starting with right here, right now.
The whole is a reflection of its parts. Tiny actions lead to big movements, to shifts in the galaxy.
With you, I can focus on what’s in front of me — because it’s the tiny moments of our life, day after day, that have changed and enhanced my whole world.
—
This post was originally published on Medium.com and is republished with the author’s permission.
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