I have officially been married more than one year! It is sort of strange and exhilarating to say that out loud. We watched a lot of couples split up that were married near the same time we were. It blew my mind to see so many people not even make it through the first year. And honestly, without knowing any of the reasons people get divorced, I just have to say that maybe those people should have been more patient with each other. It is not my place to judge, but I have to wonder.
Our first year was tumultuous. It was slow. It was fast. It was full of fighting (or me yelling while my husband rolls his eyes at me behind my back). It was full of love and laughter. I can't believe our first year is over. I know it doesn't make me an "old married lady" just yet, but it sure does feel nice to be past the first year.
It always sort of felt like there was a lot of pressure for that first anniversary. I would sit and wonder what it would be like...if my husband would suddenly become the romantic type and whisk me away somewhere. I wondered what we would do and how I would feel...sort of the same way you always wonder if turning another year older will change you somehow. I can't honestly say it changed either of us, the day in itself, but the change in us over the past three and a half years is obvious to us both.
When we started dating, I was so high strung. I made lists. I had to stick to those lists. If I didn't plan it, it sure as hell was not allowed to happen because we did not deviate from the list. I was not spontaneous, though I longed to be. I was naive, though I was convinced I knew so much. I was a child thrusting herself into the "real" world.
During the first year we were dating, my husband and I moved in together. My mom died very suddenly, and I had not given myself a chance to come to terms with the fact that she was not actually invincible. My husband took the brunt of my anger for almost an entire year. Even after I realized I was taking my anger out on him, I continued to do it because he was always the one around when I was feeling my worst. Those were my "Dark Days," and my husband was there for me. He never ran, even when he definitely should have.
It took me two years to really feel like I was in a state to care about other people again. I know that sounds awful, but losing my mom rocked my world. It made me re-think everything I thought I knew. It also managed to polish my heart a bit and renew me to the person I am today. If it weren't for my husband, though, I honestly don't believe I would be this person I am.
My husband taught me so many lessons about loving who you are, keeping life simple, appreciating the small moments, and always being confident in your inner artist. He doesn't know a thing about knitting or crocheting, and while many of my friends like to give me a hard time for doing those crafts at such a young age, he has always been proud of me, always shown pride in the things I make like they were his own creations.
Someday, (and no we don't know when) he will make a great dad. Only, he won't be just a "dad." He will be a real, live father, one that I will be honored to stand next to. He is going to be an old man with me, and we are going to hold hands for all the young people to see.
As for now, we are still learning, and we are enjoying every moment of our naivete.
Last week, I went out alone all day. I visited the book store, went to my local yarn shop, and even saw a movie by myself. Every once in a while, striking out on my own is freeing and reminds me what it is like to be independent...but only every once in awhile.
I learned to use Double Pointed Needles with my malabrigo.
