Change

Mel's recently wrote a brilliant post about spare change really hit home for me.  (If you haven't read it, please take a moment to do so. It's absolutely one of the most thought-provoking posts I've read in a while).

If you've been 'round these parts for a significant chunk of time, you know that Mo and I have had lots of issues. We've dealt with our share of sorrow and setbacks and marital grief.  We are FAR from the perfect couple, though in real life our scars are much less obvious than they are here.  It's not that we put on a "show" for others, it's more like our private life remains more or less private in the real world, whereas here I kind of let everything hang out.  I blog as a personal kind of therapy, hence the pseudonyms and anonymity over here.  I am not ashamed of my infertility; but I have to admit, sometimes I'm ashamed of how I've handled it.  How WE'VE handled it.

Because, I will be honest here, Mo is taking this latest negative much harder than I am.  He is much more discouraged, and much more frustrated.  And I find myself unable to help him, to lift the fog of depression that has enveloped him.  He is lashing out -- at me, at the world.  He is pushing me away, blaming himself for our situation, telling me that I'd be better off with someone else.  He is angry and bitter, as I often am.  The difference is that this is not his usual modus operandi, and so I am less certain of the best way to handle it.  I look at him sometimes and wonder, "Who the hell IS this person?"  (God only knows what he thinks when he looks at me).

I tell you all of this for a reason: because of Mo responds to grief in his own way (which is nothing like how I respond to it), I've found myself thinking of all the ways in which he doesn't do everything the way I want him to.  Lately, it seems that when I want to cuddle, he wants his space.  When I am tired and want to sleep, he wants to vent.  Neither one of us seems very capable of giving the other what they want without our own feelings being injured.  There's been a lot of silence, followed by showers of angry words and tearful outbursts at our house lately.  I find myself thinking, "I'm not asking all that much.  Why can't he give me what I need?"

And then I read this:

"But there is not a marriage or partnership in the world where the person doesn’t ask an enormous amount from the other person.  Is loyalty a small thing to ask for?  Constant support?  A promise to make decisions together?  To love each other?  To never break your vows?


I don’t ask that from many people.  In fact, I don’t ask that from anyone other than Josh because they’re all enormous things to ask for.  When this husband said that he didn’t ask for a lot from this woman, I’m not sure he was seeing just how much he was asking of her; that we all ask of our partner if we have one.  Making meals?  Doing stuff with the baby?  Those are small things.  It would be like asking someone for $20,000.32 and focusing on the 32 cents.  She gives him the $20,000 daily by being a loyal partner.  By loving him.  By not breaking her vows (yes, I am making a lot of assumptions about their marriage).  All that he can claim he’s not getting is the 32 cents."

And despite what I sometimes post here, I have to admit that I get that $20,000.  Mo loves me with every fiber of his being -- I don't doubt that.  He is affectionate and compassionate and kind (most of the time).  Does he have his flaws?  Of course.  But so do I -- and I get so upset when HE focuses on the minor things I don't do -- and yet I do the exact same thing to him.   When it boils down to it, Mo gives me so much.  Financial and emotional support, love, companionship, shared goals.  He gives me loyalty and fidelity.  And what do I focus on?  I focus on the one hug I wanted at an inconvenient time, or the sigh when I interrupted (for the fifth time) the movie he was watching.  I focus on the dishes that he leaves in the sink or the laundry that isn't done.  I focus on the fact that he needs to get away to clear his head instead of hunkering down and hiding from the world like I do.  I focus on the small change, instead of the (much) larger, and much more valuable, whole dollar amount.

I want that to change.  No, I need that to change.  I'm not saying that I want to overlook important differences that we have -- but I need to focus more what is right with us than what is wrong.  God knows there's plenty of things we don't agree on -- but in the bigger scheme of things?  Those are minor.  In fact, those differences are what make us interesting.  So what if he prefers reality TV shows and despises my geeky comedies and tragic melodramas?  Who cares if he enjoys swimming at ungodly hours of the morning as opposed to running mid-afternoon, like I do?  We have distinctly different personalities -- but we balance each other out.  My bitterness is often countered by his optimism, my shyness by his outgoing nature.  I bring the stability, he brings the spontaneity. Together, we can work -- but not if I keep my laser-sharp eye on the things he doesn't do, instead of the things he does.

It's a small change, perspective.  It's the difference between creating a life -- or a marriage -- and destroying one.

That's my two cents, anyway.