Wife Appreciation Day
Appreciation of the spouse, one's partner, or even of oneself for BEING a good wife is a complex psychological thing, is it not? I often struggle with myself, analyzing and thickening the mud of life with my own bullshit and ridiculously high standards. I think back to undergrad, psychology 101, defining one's own bias and roles. The idea of taking a blank piece of paper before you and writing good/bad, husband/wife and then listing out adjectives, nouns, anything that came to mind. Look at your list, think of your words, what memories they trigger... this is your mental definition. My definition of a 'good wife' is something that seems hard to acquire though I would admit I'm happily married.
I suppose because it is because I'm divorced (collective gasp). That's right, I've been married before and FAILED. I tried, but not hard enough. I was good, but not good enough. Something, mostly me, went wrong. The story is a quick-college happy hour cocktail special spiked with peer pressure, family pressure, gambling, settling and then garnished with ovarian cancer and isolation. I was only married 9 months when I went from living in my own apartment in Kansas City, miles from my family and celebrating life to living in the guest room of my new mother-in-law's house crying over ovarian cancer, hundreds of miles from home, while my new husband dealt with the shame of me being unable to bear children. A new house, a new dog, a nursery, and here I was... an unfertile wife looking to go to grad school? I was a masonic, southern-traditional nightmare of a wife. I was accused of being my mother.
I packed up my entire life into my car, spent all my efforts trying to 'figure it all out' and in the process, lost touch with what I wanted to be. I had always wanted to be a mom, a successful woman, and yes, a wife... but I had screwed it all up without even trying that hard. I didn't know what to do, or who I was, so I simply learned to love myself.
After reconnecting with family, letting go of the guilt, healing my body through lifestyle changes and getting sober, I felt I could smile again. I wasn't sure where my future would go, but I knew it might not be what I expected; I couldn't be more right.
In my late 20's, completely out of the traditional order and defying all of my religious up-bringing, I found myself becoming a mother before becoming a wife. I was old enough and post ovarian cancer that the news of a child, the first grandchild, was nothing but happy. I felt 'wrong', 'dirty', and even 'used' because Brandon and I were pregnant without being married but I also knew I didn't want to get married because of a baby. I knew I hadn't been a 'good wife' in the past and didn't have a good example in my mother - I had fear of the label. Two years later, after a romantic courtship and falling endlessly in love with one another, Brandon and I got married. Again, I was a wife.
I'm still learning what 'a good wife' is, how she is supposed to act, and what it all looks like. I leave love notes, try to cook as many meals in a day as possible, sew the holes, cut the hair, mop the floors and try to wear high heels when my feet can bear it. Learning that my standards, my expectations, my adjectives are all mine and mine alone. Learning what my husband defines as a good wife and meeting somewhere in the middle of No Man's Land. Children, life milestones, aging, stress... all aimed at you it seems. However, I've learned this time around, in the luck of finding my soulmate, that being a good wife means appreciating yourself. Finding someone who lets you be YOURSELF and define that with less scrutiny and more love than you might feel comfortable doing. Someone to remind you in their reciprocation of effort that you are worth it, you are here with them, you are together.
A wife.
I suppose because it is because I'm divorced (collective gasp). That's right, I've been married before and FAILED. I tried, but not hard enough. I was good, but not good enough. Something, mostly me, went wrong. The story is a quick-college happy hour cocktail special spiked with peer pressure, family pressure, gambling, settling and then garnished with ovarian cancer and isolation. I was only married 9 months when I went from living in my own apartment in Kansas City, miles from my family and celebrating life to living in the guest room of my new mother-in-law's house crying over ovarian cancer, hundreds of miles from home, while my new husband dealt with the shame of me being unable to bear children. A new house, a new dog, a nursery, and here I was... an unfertile wife looking to go to grad school? I was a masonic, southern-traditional nightmare of a wife. I was accused of being my mother.
I packed up my entire life into my car, spent all my efforts trying to 'figure it all out' and in the process, lost touch with what I wanted to be. I had always wanted to be a mom, a successful woman, and yes, a wife... but I had screwed it all up without even trying that hard. I didn't know what to do, or who I was, so I simply learned to love myself.
After reconnecting with family, letting go of the guilt, healing my body through lifestyle changes and getting sober, I felt I could smile again. I wasn't sure where my future would go, but I knew it might not be what I expected; I couldn't be more right.
In my late 20's, completely out of the traditional order and defying all of my religious up-bringing, I found myself becoming a mother before becoming a wife. I was old enough and post ovarian cancer that the news of a child, the first grandchild, was nothing but happy. I felt 'wrong', 'dirty', and even 'used' because Brandon and I were pregnant without being married but I also knew I didn't want to get married because of a baby. I knew I hadn't been a 'good wife' in the past and didn't have a good example in my mother - I had fear of the label. Two years later, after a romantic courtship and falling endlessly in love with one another, Brandon and I got married. Again, I was a wife.
I'm still learning what 'a good wife' is, how she is supposed to act, and what it all looks like. I leave love notes, try to cook as many meals in a day as possible, sew the holes, cut the hair, mop the floors and try to wear high heels when my feet can bear it. Learning that my standards, my expectations, my adjectives are all mine and mine alone. Learning what my husband defines as a good wife and meeting somewhere in the middle of No Man's Land. Children, life milestones, aging, stress... all aimed at you it seems. However, I've learned this time around, in the luck of finding my soulmate, that being a good wife means appreciating yourself. Finding someone who lets you be YOURSELF and define that with less scrutiny and more love than you might feel comfortable doing. Someone to remind you in their reciprocation of effort that you are worth it, you are here with them, you are together.
A wife.
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