(Note: I’m nervous about writing this post because maybe, just maybe, I’ve hit on something that’s not a universal woman thing, but really my own personal, stupid problem. Be gentle.)
On occasion I catch myself thinking something, and it stops me cold because I didn’t know I could sink that low. My next thought will be something like, “Do I really think that?” And then I’ll have to admit to myself, “Yes, you apparently do. You fool.”
Last night, I had one of these incidents. I thought to myself, “I’m sick of working on having a good marriage. It shouldn’t be so much work.”
And then the inevitable thoughts followed: Do I really think that?
It’s plain ridiculous to think that I shouldn’t have to work at having a happy marriage. Clearly, it is not an easy thing to live with someone who is the opposite gender, was raised by different people under completely different circumstances than I was, thinks differently, speaks differently, feels differently than I do. It’s exhausting even to think about it.
Add to this that we’re supposed to consistently make decisions together–small ones and very, very large ones–and I find myself getting jealous of my cats who live their short furry lives sprawled out on the sofa, sleeping for 5 or 6 hours a pop, never talking to anyone, let alone listening.
What kind of marriage would we have if we didn’t work at it? Yes, it can be daunting, discouraging. But, as the old saying goes, nothing worth having comes easy. Or something like that.
Time to quit whining and get back to work. Thank goodness the rewards are so sweet.