If I was going to do it all again, I would still get married at 19. Maybe I'm still too young to be able to say that with any authority. But really, who is old enough to say that with any authority.
When I was 18, I was going to be a history major. I was going to serve in the Peace Corps for a few years after college, earn a master's degree in library/archival science, and then work up to a job at a major museum, preferably the Smithsonian.
In the realm of college freshman, I was pretty good at answering the where do you see yourself in 5 years question.
In the realm of college freshman, I was pretty good at answering the where do you see yourself in 5 years question.
Then I got married. Which my husband now jokes is "when I killed all of your hopes and dreams." I didn't do Peace Corps. I didn't get a master's degree. And I'm not currently interning in D.C. My "5 years from Freshman year" reality is essentially unrecognizable.
But this isn't a tragedy. My life plans have always been informed by reality. So in my original 5 year plan, I made sure to come to a nice compromise doing what I was interested in but still avoid being on food-stamps for my entire life.
So once I was in a committed lifelong relationship with someone with a gift and desire to work in engineering/programming, "Okay", I thought. We're never going to be no-heat-in-the-winter broke. So what do I really want to do.
My serious regret is that it took me so long to accept this. So I've kind of biffed it.
I've spent the last 5 years mostly wrapped up in what I could get paid to do part-time, not what I wanted to master with my time. (Part-time, because seriously who wants to work full-time?) And I couldn't stop fretting about being jobless because I didn't want to be beholden.
"Beholden" ---the whole idea of being emotionally and financially dependent bothered me. I was a complete addict to my husband and I didn't like it.
So I kept trying to solve the problem. Okay, I don't want to be totally reliant on my husband. So I started looking for a job. And by that I mean "a profession" because it wasn't so much about being reliant on my husband for money, but respect. And...money is how most people quantify respect/admiration (there are no poor astronauts). So actually, yes, indirectly it was about the money.
I was worried about getting published, not just writing a novel. Or what it took to build a CSA, not just garden in my little 4x5 plot. Or build a blog people would be impressed by, not just one I wanted to write (haha...did I say that outloud? Let's just say there's a lot of behind-the-scenes projects that've never made it to "Publish"...and an embarrassing number that did. But that's a whole 'nother post.)
But after a million what-if-I conversations with anyone who would stand still long enough to have one, I asked the real question--what good is it to have a position or job-title to become less reliant on my spouse if staying unnoticed, unhired, failing, or getting laid off is more likely than getting divorced?
Well poops. Dependency is written into our nature. We crave social interaction thus we crave social approval. This is inescapable. We only get to choose which opinions matter most. And Adam is that for me.
So finally--finally--I've decided that it's actually good that I rely on my husband to manage my sorrows and to celebrate my victories. That it's a sign of a healthy relationship that if he died I would have to completely rework my life to reach a new normal.
I dunno, I've never been in anyone else's marriage, but isn't that the point of getting married? We exchanged a legal promise before witnesses and God Himself that essentially said "you can make 5, or 20, year plans based on the assumption that I'm not going anywhere."
And that is the hardest part of being a teen bride. Everyone has to sooner or later come to grips that marriage is a terrifying, liberating co-dependence, but everyone else does it with the illusion that they aren't quite as codependent as they are.
So yes, everything about being widowed or divorced would be devastating. But only a tiny part of that devastation would be the state of my finances, or even how much social cachet I have on my own. That's like saying it would be devastating if it never rained because there wouldn't be any clouds.
That isn't to say that I'd be happy if Adam was the only person on the planet who liked me. I'm just done, forever, worrying about whether I am the boring, financially-unproductive one in my marriage. So what if I am? That's not how my family sees me. People really are worth much more than their professions.
All the love,
Stephanie
P.S. Happy Anniversary Adam. You are the best spouse on the planet. I'd say for a million and a half reasons, but if we took that literally that would be a reason for every second in the month of February. And if I only thought about all the reasons why you're awesome for a solid month, I'd die of thirst and sleep-deprivation. And that would be a pretty crappy anniversary present.
Besides. You and I both know that hyperboles are not your thing. So just for you, just for today I'll be completely accurate. Adam, you're the best spouse on the planet for me, and for a number of reasons which is limited by the constraints of time. So realistically, somewhere around two-hundred. Even if that's boring.
I'll love you forever.
But this isn't a tragedy. My life plans have always been informed by reality. So in my original 5 year plan, I made sure to come to a nice compromise doing what I was interested in but still avoid being on food-stamps for my entire life.
So once I was in a committed lifelong relationship with someone with a gift and desire to work in engineering/programming, "Okay", I thought. We're never going to be no-heat-in-the-winter broke. So what do I really want to do.
- I could be a novelist.
- Or a farmer
- Or an assistant at a Montessori school
- I could start a family whenever the heck I wanted and not have to worry about "lifetime earning loss" or building enough credibility in a field before I was confident that I could return if I left.
- I could not go to grad school
- I could study whatever was interesting
My serious regret is that it took me so long to accept this. So I've kind of biffed it.
 |
| Dressing up during my first semester as my Peace Corps dream. I still want to do a service mission. But, I want actual skills first. Like carpentry or agriculture. Preferably both. With some language skills thrown in. |
"Beholden" ---the whole idea of being emotionally and financially dependent bothered me. I was a complete addict to my husband and I didn't like it.
So I kept trying to solve the problem. Okay, I don't want to be totally reliant on my husband. So I started looking for a job. And by that I mean "a profession" because it wasn't so much about being reliant on my husband for money, but respect. And...money is how most people quantify respect/admiration (there are no poor astronauts). So actually, yes, indirectly it was about the money.
I was worried about getting published, not just writing a novel. Or what it took to build a CSA, not just garden in my little 4x5 plot. Or build a blog people would be impressed by, not just one I wanted to write (haha...did I say that outloud? Let's just say there's a lot of behind-the-scenes projects that've never made it to "Publish"...and an embarrassing number that did. But that's a whole 'nother post.)
But after a million what-if-I conversations with anyone who would stand still long enough to have one, I asked the real question--what good is it to have a position or job-title to become less reliant on my spouse if staying unnoticed, unhired, failing, or getting laid off is more likely than getting divorced?
Well poops. Dependency is written into our nature. We crave social interaction thus we crave social approval. This is inescapable. We only get to choose which opinions matter most. And Adam is that for me.
So finally--finally--I've decided that it's actually good that I rely on my husband to manage my sorrows and to celebrate my victories. That it's a sign of a healthy relationship that if he died I would have to completely rework my life to reach a new normal.
I dunno, I've never been in anyone else's marriage, but isn't that the point of getting married? We exchanged a legal promise before witnesses and God Himself that essentially said "you can make 5, or 20, year plans based on the assumption that I'm not going anywhere."
And that is the hardest part of being a teen bride. Everyone has to sooner or later come to grips that marriage is a terrifying, liberating co-dependence, but everyone else does it with the illusion that they aren't quite as codependent as they are.
So yes, everything about being widowed or divorced would be devastating. But only a tiny part of that devastation would be the state of my finances, or even how much social cachet I have on my own. That's like saying it would be devastating if it never rained because there wouldn't be any clouds.
That isn't to say that I'd be happy if Adam was the only person on the planet who liked me. I'm just done, forever, worrying about whether I am the boring, financially-unproductive one in my marriage. So what if I am? That's not how my family sees me. People really are worth much more than their professions.
Stephanie
P.S. Happy Anniversary Adam. You are the best spouse on the planet. I'd say for a million and a half reasons, but if we took that literally that would be a reason for every second in the month of February. And if I only thought about all the reasons why you're awesome for a solid month, I'd die of thirst and sleep-deprivation. And that would be a pretty crappy anniversary present.
Besides. You and I both know that hyperboles are not your thing. So just for you, just for today I'll be completely accurate. Adam, you're the best spouse on the planet for me, and for a number of reasons which is limited by the constraints of time. So realistically, somewhere around two-hundred. Even if that's boring.
I'll love you forever.
I like your blog...which doesn't make it impressive, but to some small degree that you don't really get to see much of, it makes it appreciated.
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