Today is my twentieth wedding anniversary.
If you had asked me a year ago, two years ago, three years ago if I was celebrating (which you wouldn’t ask, because of course why wouldn’t you just assume so), I probably would have said yes.
Unless I knew you well, and then I would have said through gritted teeth, “dreading.”
In the past year I’ve been working on this. Well, maybe working on me. Therapy finally let me see the work I hadn’t been doing. I inherited a lot of don’t-say-what-your-needs-are, have the patience for don’t-make-me-say-it-twice. I spent a lot of time feeling invisible. I’m good at directing my energy anywhere else to get the happy. I’m extremely good at seething.
I still blow up sometimes. I still get tired of repeating myself and giving directives. But I am getting better. I feel hopeful, if not fully happy. That’s been missing for a long time and is more crucial.