When Big Daddy and I got together and married it was glorious. We had the kind of partnership that I'd always dreamed of and honestly it made me smug. I felt like we needed to be teaching classes, something along the lines of "Wedded Bliss for Dummies." We had challenges in those first couple of years but we were in so much awe and gratitude that we had each other that we worked through those challenges with a certain degree of grace, or maybe I imagined that part. I don't know. I honestly don't know. I wrote myself a fairy tale love story and I have absolutely no idea what's true and what's not. What I do know is now we're sliding in to our fifth year of married life and some of the glitter has fallen off and it's all over the floor and life at The Love Shack got real. We're having to talk about, deal with, cry about, fuss over, and slog through real challenges and trust me, there's no Disney music playing in the background. I have become painfully aware of my childish reactions to responsibility and the need for some serious growing up. I have made myself crazy trying to get back to some romantic ideal that doesn't fit into day-to-day life. I need a reality check. My expectation that we're supposed to be grateful and graceful all the time is beyond comic. I have been so afraid of turning into one of "those wives" that I have denied myself the connection that comes with admitting and even embracing the fact that we are taking a ride on "The Hot Mess Express."
Most of my struggles stem from the same place: the fear that I will not be taken care of. When financial problems arise, the monster under the bed tells me that time I won't get through it (in Scaryworld, there is no "we," it's just me, alone and not okay). When my family members are sick and struggling, the monster under my bed tells me that I am supposed to be handling it better. I need to be proactive. I need to make something happen. I am supposed to know what to do and how to do it with no instruction or experience. When my husband's work situation isn't ideal, the monster under the bed tells me that our life is about to fall apart. When my work situation wanes or feels too busy, the monster under the bed tells me I will not be able to do what has to be done. When someone wants something from me and I don't follow through the way I should the monster under the bed tells me I've ruined all the good I've ever tried to do. All of these lies presuppose that it's up to me, that I am alone and unaided. All of this fear ignores the fact that my okay doesn't come from me, my bank account, my husband, my job, or my reputation. The grace I live in isn't from me, isn't about me and isn't contingent upon me. It's grace.
So today I am going to pray and move forward. I'm going to shine the light on those shadows that I've convinced myself are out to get me. I'm going to breathe in the grace and exhale all the insecurities. Today I'm going to be part of "we" and "us" and I'm going to remember that feelings aren't facts, but grace is. Peace, love & blessed messes!
