Lessons From My First Year Of Marriage
Unironically, they’re just…life lessons.
I’ve been married for one year at this point; and although I am only at the beginning stages, I do have quite a few things to share of lessons I’ve picked up along the way. Some of these, I learned very early on into my relationship pre-marital chapter. Others have been implemented during this first year. Some, I’m sure I’m forgetting. First off, this has been my first romantic relationship ever, and certainly has been a crash course in love and what it means to both receive, and give, this gift.
- Transitional injuries may occur. Don’t fight them.
When we start new chapters, we often romanticize them to the utmost degree. We build narratives and fantasies in our mind of how things will go. Of course, we hope with all our might, those fantasies will materialize. And, many times, they can. But more times than not, life will have a different plan for you. It’s why the saying exists: you make plans, and God laughs. My first year of marriage, and even my year of engagement, showed me that as much as I love change, it can be painful to go through. My therapist calls these “transitional injuries.” When one chapter closes, and another begins, it is just as exciting and wonderful, as it is scary and a time of grief. You’re letting go of what once was and taking on a new chapter. Marriage is no different. In more ways than not, I don’t feel any different than when I wasn’t married, and my husband feels the same. The work we’ve done in our relationship, has been consistent from day one of our dating infancy. The only thing that has changed, is how the world views us; although admittedly, external validation has never been our gold. What else changes? Your relationship’s legality and titles. Titles that are beautiful and I’ve come to love, but the work within a healthy and loyal relationship remains the same - married or not.
Embracing this new chapter of no longer legally single, as well as reprioritizing your life, can be hard. Don’t fight it. Allow yourself to flow with the changes, like waves crashing on the beach. It’s okay for these injuries to suck. It’s okay for things to be less than perfect.
2. Be present. The celebration doesn’t stop after the wedding.
I’ve written about my contemplation after eloping. Being present is something I felt deeply while eloping, and something I feel deeply any time I travel in general. It takes me out of my generalized anxiety disorder and snaps me into the present. While the first year of marriage might have been tougher than I’d like, I was able to find times to be present to the best of my capacity. Celebrating those moments, celebrating love, and the little moments between you two, while no one else is around, is so special and important. It’s imperative to celebrate love, presence, and the small wins in life. It doesn’t need to be that we only celebrate with grand events like graduations, weddings, job promotions, and the like. Events are wonderful, but it’s the intricate and small moments in life that deserve our attention too. Be aware, present, and awake. Life is moving by, with or without you. Pay attention.
3. Stop trying to figure it out.
Ironically enough, one of the lessons I learned in trying to figure it out…was to not. Early on in my relationship, my anxiety disorder and low-grade OCD took on a life of its own. They’ve always been present in my life, uninvited and rude as hell visitors. They’ve reared their heads strong and powerfully; much more than I care to admit. I read tons of articles, books, and listened to countless podcasts. I was fascinated with learning all I could about partnership— real and true love — not stuff of fairy tales. I became enthralled and found so many gems along the way: the works of Alain de Botton, Esther Perel, Sheryl Paul, just to name a few. But I remember one time, while thinking on a therapy session, it struck me: I’m never going to “figure this out.” I started to wonder how much time within my relationship I was spending trying to “figure it out” instead of just living it.
While I absolutely love and encourage self-growth, self-inquiry and self-reflection, there’s so much of it that is paradoxical. Hours are spent trying to figure out love and life, only to realize you haven’t been truly present. There’s beauty in self-education and I certainly do not want to dismiss that. But the pursuit in figuring it out, as if you’ll one day find your golden answer for all of life’s woes — I’m doubtful will happen. I’m not saying we shouldn’t try to be better for ourselves and our partners; that should certainly happen. What I am saying is that in the search for nirvana, we may miss out on what is right in front of us.
In a Rich Roll podcast episode, Mel Robbins discusses a psychedelic induced therapy session she and her husband experienced. Her first encounter was lovely, and the medicine takes her on a trip where she recalls a childhood memory. It heals her in a way. Her second experience with the group, she couldn’t feel its effects. The session starts and she waits, and waits, and waits. Finally, she tells the therapist, “There’s something wrong, I’m not feeling anything.” To which the therapist calms her down and reassures her the medicine is working. Mel then persists, “I’m telling you; it’s not working.” The therapist tells her it is working, even while she may not actively feel anything. Mel exclaims, “I need to figure this thing out. Because if I don’t, it will all be over, and I’ll have missed the whole fucking thing.” The therapist responds, “Exactly, just like your life.” And boy, did that hit me. Trying to figure things out, takes us from our present moment. It robs us. Love and life itself, are not Rubik’s cubes we play with, only to then jump up exclaiming, “I got it!” and the puzzle is done. The “figuring it out” is in the unfolding, in the breathing into everyday moments, in the pain that cripples us, but deciding to wake up the next day and get on with it. It’s in the vulnerable conversations, and in finding small joys and wins. We learn things along the way, which help us grow and become wiser. But no one has it more “figured out” than the other. Especially with love. All we can do, is what’s right for each of us as individuals.
The self-help industry is riddled with rules on how to find “The One.” Ignore them for a period of time, the timing of the relationship matters, don’t be as accessible, don’t sleep with someone on the first date etc. Rules upon rules. Some may work for you; others I think we should discard as a society. But really, no one has it any more figured out than you, no matter how their relationship looks on the outside. And let’s not forget, not all that glitters is gold. As long as you’re in a healthy and sane relationship that’s not abusive in any way, it’s all just as complex and gorgeous as anyone else’s experience.
4. Embrace Uncertainty.
Uncertainty — that pesky word that is found in nearly everything in life. My brain doesn’t want to accept uncertainty, but of course, the healing is found in leaning into it. It’s also the one thing many people forget is inevitable in the relational realm. The thing I can’t understand, is becoming so comfortable in a relationship that you forget: one day, it can all be over. We can stop putting in the effort, romance, or appreciation for even the smallest things. Why? Because we believe that person will just always be there. We forget about death, break-ups, or divorce. We take our partner’s free will, and life’s unpredictability, for granted. Remaining present, and marveling at your significant other for all they are and what they bring to the table, is real and beautiful work. Because let’s all face it, we don’t know what’s going to happen. It would behoove each of us, to enjoy the moments we have with our loved ones, as much as we can, in the here and now.
Scaachi Koul, a Canadian writer and journalist whose work makes me laugh and whose talent I admire, wrote an essay about refusing to lose weight for her wedding day. I loved reading it when I was engaged, because I found myself in the same circumstance. Starving myself to be slimmer for a wedding dress is something I’ll still pass on. Unfortunately, I recently read about her divorce. In her article, “The Year in Stupid Tattoos I’m Sure I Won’t Regret”, her last paragraph stained my memory like wine on white clothing:
Most days, still, my grief is the most consistent thing I have in my life. I can always find something new to devastate me. But I do love having an excuse for making needlessly permanent decisions. I thought my marriage was one of those too, but I was wrong. The tattoos on my fingers, the ones I got months ago, are already more faded than fresh. Nothing lasts. Everything can be reverted, everything can mutate, everything can one day just disappear.
One can be in the happiest of relationships and still won’t know what the future holds. To think that just because you’re in a committed relationship, it will never change or perhaps even end, is incredibly naive. We all have finite lives to begin with, and the noise of my own anxiety pisses me off because of this. It robs me from enjoying life’s charms and the existence of a relationship I prayed for, for what feels like more than half my life. It is an annoying distraction, to say the very least. This is why being present and awake is my life’s greatest work and greatest challenge. Maybe not just mine— all of ours. Which leads to this…
5. Be gentle with yourself.
Throughout the transitional injuries, different emotions, and rollercoaster of life itself, we must remain gentle with ourselves. A friend once told me, “You’re already getting beaten up by life, don’t beat yourself up too.” I’m guilty of beating myself up countless times, especially during this first year. I have since found ways to lessen the beating up, and to find refuge from my darkest days. It doesn’t make it any less challenging, but it makes it bearable. I’m learning about different tools to add to my toolkit, and from there, I can continue doing my best in being gentle with myself. My difficulties didn’t come because I entered into marriage, and they certainly aren’t from my spouse; but they came from my mind and surrounding relationships. How I related to others, revealed itself to me in a way I had to examine thoroughly. And that was hard work. If we can be gentle with us, to the best of our ability, we can gracefully lean into life’s complexities.
And honestly, that’s all we can hope for.
