You're the Hero of Your Story

Marriage is a fairy tale.

At least according to Facebook. There are so many photos with sunshine, and flowers. Mostly in fields, it seems. And the people are always laughing. And then there are the quotes. Oh, the quotes. "A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person." "My husband is a promise that I will have a friend forever." "I look at you and see the rest of my life in front of my eyes."

Whew. That's a lot to live up to. 

But here's the thing. I am from what some would consider a fairy tale family. A few weeks ago, my parents celebrated the anniversary of their 50th year of marriage. Both of them come from similarly happy and life-long unions, one set of my grandparents actually having been married 73 years. And here's what I know, having been raised and surrounded by folks who pretty much have a handle on making this marriage thing work. It is much more gritty, difficult, and complex than all that stuff makes it sound. I've written about this before, but relationships that work involve such a complicated interplay of so many factors, and the quotes, tweets, snaps, and sound bytes that are the passing tokens of superficial acquaintance cannot possibly communicate them. Marriage is a story, but it's not a fairy tale.

For some, that story is truly a romance, and a happy one. Even below the surface of the appearance created by carefully curated social media, there is a strong, healthy, happy, and rewarding relationship that will go the distance. For some marriages, however, this is not the case.

I'm not suggesting that any relationship is perfect, or perfectly easy. But there is a different reality for relationships that are fundamentally working, and those that are not. Just like a healthy person, a healthy marriage can have a lot of room for improvement--but if you are ill, you know it, and if this is the reality of your marriage, you know this post is for you.

A struggling marriage is not always destined for divorce--these partners may have commemorated many years together, and may continue for many more--but it is also not necessarily guaranteed healing, and this makes things complicated. An anniversary is a reason for celebration, but it cannot always be met with pure joy and gratitude. Relationships that do not offer the rewards of a healthy partnership, or are in some way fundamentally dysfunctional, can cause every anniversary to bring mixed emotions. Not only is there the sadness of the inescapable reminder that this occasion is not what it should be, or what you wished or hope for, but others' congratulations can seem out of step and inappropriate--even hypocritical. Anniversaries are not the only time this happens, of course. Weddings, other people's anniversaries, marriage sermons at church, things published by friends on Facebook, even just regular, everyday conversations, can inspire a complex cocktail of guilt, regret, longing, resentment, shame, and even anger.

I understand. I have friends. I go out in public. I read Facebook. I see all the advice, the testimonies, the memes. I've been told, just like you have, to be married to my best friend, and vow to laugh together every day, and have a marriage that makes my kids want one just like it. All those things exist for a reason, and they will likely always exist, and they are meaningful to someone, but it doesn't have to be you. Here is the thing I want you to know.

You don't have to have a perfect marriage, or even a good marriage, to be doing a good job at marriage.

Marriage takes two. Two imperfect, broken, vulnerable people. You are the only one of those people you can control. If you have remained a willing partner, if you have done all in your power to make yourself able to love, if your faith, though battered, has remained unbroken by loss, pain, and disappointment, then you are doing the best that anyone has ever done at marriage, in the face of daunting odds.

You will go on hearing the happy romances, and even sometimes the fairy tales. But know that you are telling a different story, and you can honor your own narrative. Your story is no less real and right. Your story is no less beautiful and powerful. You are telling a story of love, faith, endurance, and sacrifice. You are the hero of your story.

For the Single Moms

I admit, right up front, I am far from an expert at the single mom thing. For one thing, I have only been a single parent for four years, which is a blink of the eye compared with many of my friends who have raised their children alone, maybe even from the beginning, and are still going strong all these years later. Also, my kids do have a dad in their lives, so, unlike many moms I know who are truly going it alone, I do have someone who shares some of the cost and time involved in raising kids, and is invested in their safety and welfare. All of which is to say, I know that there are many mothers out there whose strength, tenacity, courage, and endurance I have not been called upon to match, and I'm sure any one of them is better suited to share these thoughts than I. But since I am all I've got right now, I intend to give it a shot anyway. I've learned a lot in these last four years--here is what I want to tell you, all of you, the single moms who are my friends, companions, support group, inspiration, and sanity, as we walk this path together.

1. You can do it. 

Seriously. You can. I know, I know, my texts say otherwise. They say, "I can't do this," and "Seriously. I can't," and "Please come and get them, someone else should do this." But don't listen to the texts. They are sent in moments of duress, they don't mean anything. We all have those moments. Right? (We do all have those, right? That's not just me, right?)

Believe me now when I tell you, in this (reasonably) sane moment, that you are so much stronger and better than you think, and you can do the things your kids need from you. It's so hard sometimes, I know, to take the high road. It's hard to make the choices that are in their best interests when those don't always coincide with the choices that are in ours. It's hard to act intentionally rather than react emotionally. It's hard not to come home at the end of a long day and yell, because there are dishes everywhere, and they were supposed to start the laundry but they "forgot", and no one but you has EVER emptied an ice cube tray, and after all, we can't do everything ourselves. It's hard to remember in that moment that they couldn't possibly understand the weight, and that we wouldn't really want them to--hard to remind ourselves that it isn't their fault that we are the only ones, and they are children, just children. It's hard to do the full-time day at work and the full-time night at home and the all-the-time activities at the school, and still listen politely, through bone-deep exhaustion, as a part-time parent talks about how difficult things are. It's hard to bite our tongue and swallow our tears and wave them out the door and say only, "Have a good birthday!" or "Have fun!" on Christmas Eve. It's hard to have them so close, every second of every minute of every day, and it's hard--so, so hard--to let them go.

But one thing I know is that when it comes to them, you can do anything. You have made it this far, and everything you have done and are doing is for them. Maybe even the reason you are doing it on your own is because of them. And you have an untold reservoir of strength that even you do not know the depths of, and you will draw on it when the moment comes, and you will not be disappointed with what you find. You may stumble, and you may fall, and it may not feel like it, but I promise--you can do this.

Except when you can't. Because....

2. Sometimes, you just can't.

Honestly, there are things that are just beyond one person's capacity to bear. There is only so much of us to go around. There won't be time, money, energy, or emotion to spare for everything--it's just not possible. Check the homework folder? Nope. Return email? Uh-uh. Clean up this atrocious mess? That would mean I'd have to get up off the couch. Sometimes we just can't go to one more track meet. NOT. ONE. MORE. Sometimes we have to say no to things, things we once did or always wanted to do, things that are important to us or to the kids. Sometimes we have to sit down and have a family meeting to decide that there will be no more cooking dinner--ever--because we just can't do it anymore. (Completely hypothetical. Never happened.) (OK, fine. That one's real.) Sometimes we simply cannot listen to one more second of conversation about the most amazing fun and awesome family game night at Dad's, or force ourselves to smilingly accept the warm, homemade, organic, fresh-baked, chocolate oatmeal cookie from the new woman in our kids' (and ex's) lives. We just can't. We can't even.

But here's the thing. And listen carefully, because this part is important. That's OK.  That's been hard for me to get to, but there has never been a time when it wasn't true. Your kids don't need you to be invincible. They don't need you to be perfect. In fact, they need to know that you sometimes can't. They need to know that you need their help. They need to know that you feel the hurt and pain in your lives together, just like they do--that you are all in it together. They need to know that you sometimes get sad, tired, and angry, sometimes make mistakes, that you are human, just like them and just like everyone else, and that these things are survivable. You are doing more for them by modeling healing, grace, and resilience in the face of all you cannot do, than you ever could by making them think there is nothing you cannot do. One of the most important things they will ever learn in life is that true strength comes only from acknowledging our own weakness--if all they see in us is an unattainable perfection, how will they not simply become discouraged and give up when, inevitably, there comes a time when they just cannot? 

So when you're at the end of your rope, just tie a knot and hang on, because even then, especially then, you are doing what you need to do for them. And, most importantly of all...

3. You are enough.

I know it will never be possible to do everything for them. We can't take away the events of the past. We can't get them all the things we will never afford. We can't give them the father or the family we always hoped they would have. No matter how much time and attention we had to offer them, it would always be possible to find a way that we could do more, give more. But right now, we are giving them the thing they need from us the most, which is ourselves. We are giving all we have, and that is not only sufficient but is actually abundant--many others have so much less. Even though it feels as though there is never enough time, never enough energy, never enough money or resources or sleep to go around, we are doing it, friends, and we have got this. Even when we haven't.

You are enough, just the way you are. You're all the mom they need.