Vignette of a Marriage

Yesterday Billy and I began celebrating our first anniversary. Since we were married twice within one week, the festivities will not be limited to just one day, but we kicked them off in grand style by having dinner at our favorite restaurant in St. Paul and looking back at the first 365 days of our marriage. When Billy asked about my most significant memory, it was not our honeymoon in Greece or surprise weekend at a Victorian Bed & Breakfast...

One night a few months ago, we were lying in bed about to fall asleep, but my heart was troubled with a lingering heaviness. "I don’t know if we’re still connecting like we used to" – I finally said out loud.

Billy must have been tired, but he turned towards me and asked me to say more – what made me feel that way? How were things different than before? I struggled to put my finger on just what it was that troubled me in that vulnerable hour before sleep and followed a few rabbit trails. "I don’t know" – I finally said. "Maybe it’s just that I wonder if we still really see each other... I worry that maybe we’ve grown so used to each other that we only see shadows made up of what we expect to see instead of the real person?"

There was a brief silence, and I grew worried that I’d hurt him with my words or unnecessarily raised his anxiety about the condition of our relationship, and I wished I hadn’t said anything at all. Silly, emotional woman. Of course we’re ok, how dare I wonder – we have a great relationship, why would I ever jeopardize it with silly nighttime worries that I can’t even figure out myself?

Then his soft voice in the silence... Open. Unafraid. Undefensive.

"Is there something you wish that I were noticing about you, sweetie?"

I lay there wide-eyed as these words crossed the silence, tearing up as soon as they reached me.

Instead of moving away, Billy moved towards me. In doing that, he opened some hidden dam that now stood wide open – as open as the stream of tears on my face while I considered his question.

"No, Billy. I think it’s just that I haven’t even been noticing who I am these days. I’m so busy that I don’t even look inside anymore, and I feel so foreign and uninteresting to myself when I’m finally quiet."

Our conversation that night stands out in my memory in a different way than the others – it wasn’t planned, it just happened in the midst of the daily stress of life while neither of us was prepared, rested or Sunday best. It was an unexpected moment of vulnerability, and even in that unguarded moment, Billy's first instinct was to move towards me rather than away from me; to be for me rather than against me; to really hear me rather than build up a defense against the potential danger of my words. What I find supremely ironic is that if he did become defensive or anxious, something completely unrelated to the condition of our marriage would have probably become all about it. I have a feeling that this is precisely how conflict and misunderstanding take root in most intimate relationships. Experiences like that late night conversation have rooted in me a lasting sense of peace and security. It means more to me than I can explain to know without a doubt in my very inmost being that Billy is truly, deeply for me. And that, more than anything else, cuts to the core of my fierce love for the man I married 366 days ago.