Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Holding the Mess Together

I don't blog often about my marriage, mostly because I feel like people who are constantly blogging or posting about how great their spouse is are mostly trying to convince themselves that their spouse is great.  I feel like all of that "I have the greatest husband ever" talk is usually trying to prove to someone that not only is it true, but also that they actually believe it's true.  So, for the most part, I just don't say anything.  I feel like if my marriage is good, people see it, I don't need to tell them.

That being said, I'm going to break my norm right now and just take a moment to say how much I appreciate that Jason both loves and accepts my particular brand of crazy.  Anyone who gets to see past the surface with me begins to understand that below the surface is a tempest.  I'm a serious mess about 99% of the time, and sometimes I feel like I'm one loose thread away from that mess spilling out all over the place, and splashing into all parts of my life.  That's why it's nice to have Jason there, sewing the loose threads back together, making a perfectly beautiful rag doll out of the mess of scraps that make up the whole of me.  I don't have to ask, he just knows, and he fixes.  I'm grateful for his ability to see the weaknesses, and work on helping me patch and fix them while at the same time turning a blind eye to the fact that they exist.  It's nice to have someone who can do that, and who never holds it against you.

If I'm going to be entirely honest, I'm not as good at patching his wounds as he is at patching mine.  I'm rash and judgmental with absolutely everyone in my life, including him.  I think I have the best intentions, but I'm pretty famous for doing everything all wrong, and even my efforts to "help" end up hurting.  I sort of wish I had his ability to say just the right thing, and to know exactly how to handle every situation.  Maybe it's just that when he isn't keeping the mess inside me, it spills out and splashes all over him, and then he has to clean my mess off him while still dealing with his own.  I think that it's not until I realize how much it must take for him to keep me from always falling apart that I also realize how hard that must be, and how he must feel like a mess sometimes too and he's just left with me and my clumsiness to help him through it.

Sometimes I think that's what is hardest for me.  Wanting to be everything for him that he is for me, and failing time and time again.  Wanting to do and say the right things, and instead being myself.  It's when I try to help him, and inevitably fail, that I realize how much I appreciate that I never have to worry about whether he can be my rock.  He's what keeps me going, and I probably don't say how much I appreciate it often enough.  I also don't apologize for being so bad at helping him the way he helps me as often as I should.  But the bottom line is, he's responsible for me being the presentable and coherent person I am most of the time.  He gets me, and he doesn't judge.  I appreciate it.  I just don't say it enough.

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