Twenty-eight years ago today, I married my spouse. Woah. That is a really long time to be with one person particularly with all the shit we have been through. Plus, it took me marrying him in two other ceremonies on top of the first one, to lock it up. Marriage is not for the faint of heart. It isn’t easy. It takes constant work. There will be days where murder seems like an actual solution. Kidding. Maybe. Actually, I don’t look good in jumpsuits due to my height constrictions, so prison isn’t an option.
We have walked, not very gracefully I might add, through active alcoholism, raising a son with special needs, a separation, the death of my father and step-father, my aging mother, unemployment and now a pandemic. Fortunately, he is now sober (18 years), our son with Down syndrome is thriving, our youngest son hasn’t required therapy from our parenting, and our marriage is pretty solid. Our union is far from perfect. We are humans who make mistakes. But, he is the ideal partner for me. God knows, I am not an easy person to deal with, and quite frankly, I get on my own nerves.
I will be honest, the first two weddings were a shit show. Truly. I won’t go into tremendous detail, since that could be an entire blog in itself. But, both were when active drinking was center stage along with a fake ring at the first ceremony, and Rigor mortis Elvis, at the second. Third time was really charm. He was sober. He didn’t give me a fake ring. And, we took our vows in a quaint chapel in Spain with some of our closet friends present. Sometimes quickly. Sometimes slowly. But, we finally have solid footing and built a foundation of trust.
He embraces my crazy. He has been my biggest cheerleader as I completed my book. That is what a good partnership is, right? Accepting each other as we are instead of trying to change the other person. I tried that route and failed. We are perfectly imperfect together. Cheers to us!