Yesterday we celebrated our one year anniversary. Which is really weird, because I kind of feel like I
just got married. But ... I also feel like I've been married for years. Aaron and I joke that now that we've made it a whole year, we're going to have to stop enjoying our relationship, since according to the media and social commentary, this is supposed to be a battle. Men are lazy and selfish and only want sex, and women are underappreciated but the only reason anything gets done. Of course there's also the opposite side, where men are the breadwinners and women are supposed to be subservient and housewifey, but that this makes men into workaholics who don't care about their families, and it makes women into drones and nags. Either way, it's obvious to me that we're doing
something wrong, because none of these sound anything like our relationship.
I know it's only been a year, and color me pretentious for already having some commentary on marriage. Trust me when I say I definitely do not believe I know everything about how this works, and that I am counting on many more years of lessons (both the fun and the hard). But what I have learned, aside from the (many) little quirks of Aaron, are (I think) relatively universal insights into how relationships work, and how they can be improved. It should come as no surprise that the underlying key is communication--which, I discovered, is not exactly what I thought it would be.
So, in no particular order, allow me to share some thoughts I've had about my relationship.
Like, for example,
patience.
This is one of those concepts that I always knew was important, but never realized how much. I always used to think that being patient meant being able to wait in a chronological sense, like for your mom when she's talking or to open your Christmas presents. But patience, as it turns out, is also about waiting to lose your temper, waiting to react, waiting to become offended. This is chronological too, technically, but has more to do with self-control. Patience, essentially, is a form of expressing your love for someone by putting them before yourself.
Typically, we Christians like to explain love with 1 Corinthians 13. Love is patient, love is kind, etc [1]... it's just one of those automatic definitions we use. It certainly isn't all-encompassing--it doesn't deal with forgiveness or selflessness or commitment, all of which are universally-accepted (maybe?) aspects of love. If you think about it, this verse doesn't even
define love as much as it gives us a list of instructions on
how to love. So most commonly we just file all these attributes in the folder marked "love, etc" and let it be. But I think it's very worth noting that the first thing Paul says about love is that it is
patient.
Here's the thing, and maybe you knew this: I'm a nerd. so I went and looked up the original Greek text of 1 Cor 13:4. The Bible uses the phrase Ἡ ἀγάπη μακροθυμεῖ, which breaks down like so:
Ἡ ἀγάπη (agape) = the love (noun)
μακροθυμεῖ (makrothumei) = it is patient (verb)
The word
makrothumeo (I am patient) is a compound verb, formed from the words
makros--meaning "distant/long"
--and
thumos, which translates most easily into the word "passion," but (depending on prefixes and forms and such) can imply anything from desire to rage to lust. Uncle Robbie calls it "the fire in your belly." The verb
makrothumeo literally means "I suffer long." Patience isn't just about waiting for things or biting back the snappy remarks. It's about being willing to suffer, and not just temporarily, but for a long period of time. It takes conscious effort, and (because we only suffer the things we don't like) it's not often rewarded. And, as previously mentioned, that's the very first thing Paul says about love: love is long-suffering.
Hold the phone, I'm not suggesting that it's only love if you are suffering. Because that's not the case either--see the actual Scripture at footnote [1] down below. And it doesn't necessarily mean that the person you love hurts you, because the perfect love from Christ does not cause us to suffer. Existing in the sinful world, however, does involve suffering, and sometimes suffering at the hands of other people because of that perfect love.
The fact is, people are flawed. It doesn't matter how much you care about each other--you're neither of you perfect, and your imperfections are, at some point, going to hurt the other person. It's easy to say that loving someone means treating them well, but we often forget that it also means being understanding when the other person makes a mistake. And being patient is very closely connected to
compromise,
which is what I really meant when I said "communication" up at the top of this post. Like so many of my little discoveries, this too turned out to be not as simple as I thought it was before I was married. When you're growing up, you learn to compromise as a means of conflict resolution. You both give up a little bit and then reach a conclusion that can make both sides happy. Important life skill? Definitely. But compromise isn't just about resolving issues--it's about
preventing them. Compromising between spouses is an active, ongoing decision, and it requires the willingness to communicate.
I am of the opinion that everyone has their own language. Not as in English or Spanish, but as in a form of communication, a way of perceiving the world that you use when you express your thoughts. For example, Aaron thinks in clear cut words and ideas, and expresses them concisely and directly. He says exactly what he means, and no more and no less (usually...lol). But I, on the other hand, think in concepts and spiderwebs, with everything connected and under the lens of whatever emotion I am feeling the most at that time. Needless to say, this difference has been more than a little bit of a problem when it comes to working things out. At the root of most of our arguments is the fact that we are speaking to each other in different languages and we don't always remember to bridge the gap.
Compromise, however, is what I mean when you try to understand where the other person is coming from. It means taking the time to meta-communicate (psych term!) about your relationship, to understand why the other person says what they say, or why they get upset with you for just saying what you say. Aaron's directness can really put me off until I remember that he just cuts through the fluff and gets to the point. On the other hand, my emotional thought-train tends to frustrate Aaron, until he remembers that it's all a network of ideas and ~feelings that build up to my actual point. Compromise happens in two ways: both when you try to express your ideas in the other person's language, and when you try interpret what the other person is saying using the rules of their language. And both Aaron and I have had to learn to be patient (vocabulary word!) with each other, to hold back the reactions caused by our personal language in order to understand the language of the other person.
Moving on to other useful tidbits of advice, such as
keep your mouth shut.
Ha, ha.
No, but really.
Last year, at my friend Paul's wedding, they did the couples dance where at certain points you have to sit down if you've only been married for X amount of years. The last couple dancing had been married for ... 60? years or something, and the DJ asked them what their secret was. The man, who was totally beaming at his wife the entire time, just said, "keep your mouth shut."
Of course everyone cracked up about this. Because isn't that what society jokes about when it comes to husbands--just shut up and let your wife have her way? Personally, I got a little riled. But the more I thought about it, the more it began to make sense. It's not about not speaking your mind, or about one person having a "better" opinion. It's about being aware, and about picking your battles (even if it doesn't seem like a battle at the time).
Before I was married, I was convinced that the key was sharing everything, the good and the bad, the every-moment thoughts, the things about my husband that bothered me. Because this was "good" communication; it meant that we were open and honest with each other. But what I have discovered is that all things, including sharing, need a little bit of moderation. I definitely advocate being honest and open, and I believe that keeping secrets is the first step to closing yourself off to someone. But I also think that people tend to swing too far to the other side, and share everything, all the time, without regard for the situation or what is going on with the other person (and by "people" I mean "piera"). The trick is timing. If it's a problem that needs to be addressed, usually it's better to wait until you've both wound down from your day, and that neither of you are distracted or already upset about something else. More importantly, if you're in the middle of a fight, it's never helpful to make all the snappy comebacks that you want to, because all it does is make the problem worse. Keeping your mouth shut is a hard trick to learn (and I definitely haven't mastered it). Learning when and how to share is also difficult, but creates less conflict in the long run.
take each other seriously
This kind of seems obvious to me, because if you respect and love someone, it would follow that you respect their opinions and perspectives. I have learned, however, that that is not necessarily the case. I know for a fact that there are some things that bother Aaron that don't bother me, and vice versa. And more than a few arguments have occurred as a result of one of us going "well that's a dumb thing to be upset about." Because the fact of the matter is, it's important to one of us, for whatever reason, and even if it's objectively mundane and petty, it's still something that we are affected by. Certainly we could both learn to let it go, and to be less bothered by it, but that is an ongoing life improvement issue and can't be fixed in one instance. Even if the circumstance calls for a "honey, I think you're overreacting" (which it probably does), it's important to remember that the other person's opinion is still valid simply because it is his/her opinion.
...but not TOO seriously,
because sometimes you both just have to let it go. Especially about each other. It's so easy to pick out little things and let them get to you, but these little things are a part of that person as a whole, and they are unlikely to change. This is related to the concept of patience above, but I am applying it here in a broader, less-important sense. You could spend your whole life fighting about stuff, or you could just shrug most of it off and accept that this is the way it is for that person. Of course--this doesn't necessarily apply to actual sinful behavior, nor does it mean that you shouldn't talk about problems you have. But some things aren't going to change, and there's no point in letting them make you miserable for your whole life.
pride!
(huh! what is it good for! absolutely nothing)
Obviously, being overly proud is a bad thing. I bring it up, however, because I never realized until I was married just how much of it I have. It comes out mostly in arguments, at the moment that I realize I'm fighting a losing battle. This is when I stop making reasonable arguments and start saying whatever I feel like saying, because I don't want to be
wrong, goram it.
But although this is where I can see it flaring up, I think I recognize it most in the moments when I fight against it. It seems that human nature values its dignity and pride above most other things, and making the choice to
not put it first is ... well, scary. Without my pride as a defense I am suddenly a lot more vulnerable than I want to be, which means I have to remember to trust Aaron even though we're both mad at each other. It takes actual effort to decide which route to take, and that moment of decision has a tendency to add a little perspective to the situation. Which is also a bonus.
putting each other first
is at the heart of all of this, and I feel like it sort of goes without saying, but ... then again, maybe it doesn't. It's one thing to die for someone, but it's another thing entirely to
live for them. [2] If you love someone, you put them before yourself--not in a worshippy sort of way, but in the sense that you look out for their best interests. This means that you exercise patience in arguments, in order to find out what the other person is trying to say. It means you think about how your comments and actions will affect them. It means trusting each other, and allowing yourself to become vulnerable to someone--because if you're both taking care of the other person, you don't need to take care of yourself. What it means, and what a lot of people don't want to believe, is that you allow yourself to be changed in order to better care for the other person. This doesn't mean that you should bend over backwards to be whatever they want, because that isn't "caring" for them in the overall sense (plus, it's destructive for both of you). In fact, it's good to stand your ground, and let the other person learn from you. I need to work on thinking in concise, clear-cut terms, and my relationship with Aaron has helped me with that a great deal. And sometimes it's good for Aaron to let go of the little things that I let go, and I think he is learning from that as well. But at the heart of it all, if you're going to commit to spending the rest of your lives together, you
have to give up part of yourself for that person. You
have to be willing to change, or you will spend the rest of your life in a standoff, and nothing will ever be accomplished. Plus you'll both be miserable.
Sometimes it's hard. Sometimes I want things to go MY way, and sometimes I just want Aaron to meet me where I am. But all of the time, everything works out for the best if we both try to meet each other on the other person's level. Nothing in my life has ever been this much work, or--sometimes--this hard. But nothing has ever been this awesome, either. Because when we stop trying to fight each other, and remember that all we want is for the other person to be happy, everyone wins.
---
[1] 1Cor 13:4-8a, 13
Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. ... So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
[2] This is a loose quote from ... someone. Aaron maybe? please let me know which of you lovely people said this, because it's golden and I can't take credit for it.
[3] I am really painfully aware of how much colloquial mismatched person is happening in this post ... all the "their" when I just mean "he/she" and don't want to do the work. But you know what, it's my on goram blog and I'll misuse grammatical rules however I want to, and you just need to meet me on my level. Ha.
