Every time this year, I get amazed and filled with romantic wanderlust. More so in the last couple of years than the past.
Dave and I celebrate 2 anniversaries within a month of each other, and then S's birthday is 6 days after our wedding anniversary. In two days, Dave and I will have been married for 11 years. April 30th was 12 years together.
Now, I've already talked about my love/hate relationship with Dave. More often than not, I love him, and love him deeply. Some days, he's lucky I've not put his head through a wall. I'm probably lucky of the same, honestly. I know I am not the easiest person to know, much less be tied to legally and genetically for life. I'm a strait up pain in the ass that refuses to fold laundry most of the time.
G is almost 10. L is almost 8. S turns 2 in less than 2 weeks. I am 29 years old and I got married before I would have graduated high school. Short of the time spent pissing off my mother, I never had that experience of figuring out who I really am. Those 4-8 years where you make mistakes, learn from them, learn what you stand for and what you'll fall on. I went from being a strong teen to a strong teen Army Wife to a strong teen mom to a single teen mom (While Dave was deployed) in less than 2 years. L came along, and I thought my life was over. And when he was born, my life really was almost over...
But I've carried on. I've never made a serious decision that didn't involve figuring out the ramifications and impact on everyone in my family. I can safely say that I have never made a decision purely out selfish abandon. They are all heavily weighted against the benefits and risks to my children and what Dave's reaction is going to be... And the 1 time that I did say to Dave, "I don't care if you want to go do this, I do, it's important to me and we're going"... We ended up not going because we got into a earth shattering fight about his behavior when I went to wake him.
I'm starting to realize that as I approach thirty, start college for the 2nd time with a goal that TERRIFIES me, I'm regretting more and more that I didn't have that time in my life to make stupid mistakes and have them blamed on the fact that I was a kid... Because during those formative years of my life- I didn't get to figure out anything, short of knowing that I love this man and want to spend the rest of my forever with him.
So, at the cusp of starting my life over, or again, depending how you look at it, I'm beginning to realize that the pieces of me that I am sure of don't fit with the pieces of me that I've been clinging to desperately.
My therapist thinks that I need to figure out the rest of me so I can deal with everything else more effectively. So I know what I stand for, and how far I'm willing to take that stand. What matters and what doesn't. How much I really can take instead of pretending that everything is going to be ok. It's with the goal that I won't miss those years as much as I have and currently do.
But what scares me more than anything... Is that even thought I know I love Dave. We've been through hell and back to stay together- What if I finally piece myself back together from where ever they are scattered across the universe- And it doesn't work for him anymore?
Can you ever be a whole person without having all the pieces of yourself? Will the person you depend on for everything still love you after you put yourself back together again? Is it worth the risk? Is my personal happiness of self exploration, fulfillment, and satisfaction worth even the lightest risk that my odds defying marriage might wither and die because he doesn't like the person that I've grown into?
Because it's almost died once previously... And it nearly killed both of us.
Clearly, on the eve of our 11 year anniversary, this is a love letter to my husband.
I love you. I have always loved you. I hope, with my whole heart, that you still love the person that I eventually piece together.