Remind Me

I know I’ve said this before but I really can’t reiterate how true it is.
Our life is bloody hard!

 
Between us both working full time jobs in stressful roles; a two year old well and truly in the grasp of ‘terrible-twohood’; a premature daughter who loves to keep our anxiety levels up and the most erratic border collie to have ever existed…it’s mental.

We struggle to find time for the ‘mundane’.So, finding time for the ‘exciting’ just doesn’t stand a chance. Most nights, we manage to spend the grand total of twenty minutes in each other’s company before you fall asleep on the settee and, well, most of that is also usually dominated with me working from my phone.
It’s not a case of no longer loving each other. It’s a case that we just sometimes forget to show it. It’s too easy at 9pm on a Thursday night to slog at separate ends of the room, tranced by the hindsight of a hard day and a manic evening. It’s too easy to sit numbly in front of the TV avoiding eye contact for fear of small talk that you no longer have the energy to pursue. It’s too easy to climb into bed an hour later and immediately adopt your fail safe sleeping position without a good night kiss. It’s too easy to let life pass us by. 

  
Our relationship has become that of a ‘working’ one. Our exchanges are predominantly business negotiations (who is cleaning whist the other one cooks? Which one of us will bath the babies whilst the other one irons?). The times we talk through the day are mainly opportunities to swap notes – Siena has needed her inhaler, Tristan had eaten well. The question of how one’s day is going never enters the equation. I’m not blaming you here, we’re both equally as guilty. 

  
Nevertheless, sometimes it hurts.

Being the oversensitive soul you’ve become to resent me for, I can’t help but take some things personally. It’s easy for me to convince myself that you no longer love me. That you no longer care about my dreams and ambitions, thoughts or emotions. It’s far too easy for me to believe that our relationship has lost its passion.
But this weekend has reminded me it hasn’t. 

We very rarely treat ourselves to some adult alone time. Our weekends are centred around finding a means of entertaining two toddlers. We no longer laugh together, no longer focus just on us.  

  
But this weekend has been exactly that! We escaped for not one, two nights! An entire weekend in each other’s company. No excuses to ignore each other. No excuses to avoid intimacy.
I’m not saying we spent the weekend locked in a loving embrace. No, we’re more than past that honeymoon stage. I mean, it was cluttered with small tender moments which reminded me that you love me.

The moments you instinctively held my hand as we strolled through market stalls, the moments you offered me your jacket because you noticed I was cold…those moments meant so much. Tiny and insignificant they may be but warming and reassuring they are, also.

Most importantly, we’ve laughed together. Your laughter was always something I loved about you so intensely. When we met, you were incredibly light-hearted. You found laughter in every situation. Recently, it’s a noise I often forget you’re capable of making. I don’t think that it’s because you’re unhappy, I just think it’s because you’re too suppressed by your hectic routine. And that’s fine.

I’m not asking that we promptly plan to change our ways. I’m not even suggesting that we need to. Our lives are busy and incredibly hard but we’re not failing. We are dedicated to our children, still dedicated to each other. Our business negotiations are working for us at the minute and as our children grow, I’m sure life will become easier.

No doubt, there’ll come a time when we can unguiltily centre nights/weekends on each other without fear of abandoning our brood. However, until that time arrives, I am asking…can we have more weekends like this one? Can we take time to hold hands when our hands are free for each other? Can we make a date to laugh with each other again soon?

Can we remind each other of how awesome our relationship really is?

  

Not Just for the Kids

  
If asked in life whether I have many regrets, no would be my answer. I’m lucky enough to know that even my mistakes have helped shape me into the person I am today. I’ve learnt from them, grown from them.
There’s things I should regret, things I’m not proud of, things I would do differently if given half a chance. Our marriage would be one.
Don’t get me wrong, this is not me admitting that I wish I hadn’t married you, I don’t! 

I was 24 at the time I said my vows, and although I completely meant them, the promises I made meant very little. I’d no experience of what ‘love, honour and obey’ would actually entail. 

Like every little girl, I had dreams of the fairytale ending. I’d pictured you as my Prince Charming, my expectations of you were unrealistic from the start. Maybe this was because of the whirlwind of a relationship we’d endured to begin. I’d never meant to fall in love with you, I wasn’t looking to achieve long term goals. Though, there was something about you that I just couldn’t resist.

You were kind, considerate, loving and romantic. I had my barriers up having been intensely hurt before but you were patient, you swore you’d break them down.

  
Eventually, you did.

Eventually, I weakened and you hurt me more than I ever knew possible. 

The day you proposed to me, out 1st anniversary together, you made me the happiest I think I’ve ever been. Looking back, I wonder whether you meant it or if you just got caught up in the romance of the occasion? It meant something to me, I was dedicated to forging a secure future together. 

Then, two weeks before we were due to be wed, you told me you didn’t love me. I knew, I’d known for a while beforehand too. The romance had stopped, you no longer looked at me with admiration, I irritated you. I gave you nothing. 

Our marriage felt tainted from the start. I entered it knowing that my love was no longer requited, knowing that your decision to stay was based on not wanting to let people down. So, your leaving two weeks later came as no surprise. I’d been waiting nearly a month for you to do the right thing. I can’t say it broke my heart, that had happened those two weeks prior to our wedding.

When you came back to me, I wanted it to be for love. I wanted it to be because you couldn’t live without me. I wanted it to be because I was enough but I always felt that I wasn’t. You could never tell me why you loved me, always struggled to say why you’d returned. 

And yet, I allowed five years to pass. Never told you how I was feeling, never forgave you for the mess you’d made. Never gave my mended heart back to you wholly.  

Along the way, we had children (maybe it was fate, maybe it was stupidity). Finally, I saw what I’d been missing, the ‘you’ who had been there for all that time. I saw that you’ve loved me throughout it all. I’d just been blinded by my own stubbornness and fear. I realised that I have been enough, even though I’ve made it hard for you. 

 Watching you with our children has made me love you more and more than I ever expected. That’s why, I could never regret the life we chose.

  
Our children showed me that our marriage was meant to be. Throughout all the hurt, the arguments and the doubt, they are the reason why we are surviving, the reason why I know we won’t give up without fighting as much as we can.

  
Our marriage has been challenging, I’ve no doubt that it will continue to present even more along the way but I want you to know, I’m still rising. 

  
Not even just for the kids, but for us, because I can see you now and I’m ready to let us forget.

  

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