{The Confessions of a Crunchy Housewife™}
Last night Sam and I were cooking dinner, and he wrapped his arms around me as we watched Bella play in the living room. I paused for a second before asking, “Are you happy with our little life?”
I’d asked it before, but I wanted to hear it again. And why. To just know for sure that we were both perfectly content with how things are.
He hugged me tighter. “Of course,” he said surprised. “Didn’t you see my facebook status?”
I laughed so hard I cried.
It was pretty sweet though:
Last year on this very day, Sam stopped drinking. It’s been a year of sobriety for us.
Tonight I sit in somewhat awe of where we are. How much our life has changed. In a million years, I would have never imagined this. The Army, El Paso, being so hot you can feel the sweat slide down your back, pursing my dream of writing, working on our marriage and parenting, and sober.
For most of our marriage the thought of “If Sam would only stop drinking my life would be perfect” crossed my mind on almost a daily basis. 7 1/2 years of that.
Well, it isn’t perfect. It never will be and that’s ok. But it’s so much better than I really ever could have imagined.
When he stopped drinking, I suddenly realized that so many other problems had been swept under the (to class it up) beer keg. Suddenly I had to take responsibility for my actions – ones I’d justified forever because he drank.
This past year has been a real come-to-Jesus meeting, as my dad likes to say. Quite literally. I’ve been humbled and humiliated at times to realize how much I didn’t help the situation we found ourselves in. I’ve been quite shocked to find that alcohol had such a hold on me that I only see looking back. How much it seemed to depress me as a mother, wife, and person. It changed me. Alcohol ruined so many of my memories.
Even though she’ll never remember her first 10 months, one day I’ll apologize to Bella for what we did. How we acted with her around. In a sense, attachment parenting became the apology and answer to my guilt for now.
As for Sam and I – where do I begin? There is so much more understanding between us. We still fight and lose our tempers (and yes, I still nag some) – but beneath it is a sense of belonging to each other. I saw how much he wanted to go back into the military, and I was willing to make the sacrifices again to let him do so. I know what this could entail one day and I’m willing to stand beside him proudly knowing that this makes him whole.
He takes an interest in my work, my love of writing. Something I always wished he would do. In fact, the other day (unprompted) he read the Keeping Romance Alive post and told me how funny and true it was. He encourages me to go to conferences, to take time to write and pitch. Never once has he complained about the effort some of this has taken.
As a kind of reminder of how far we’ve come, I set up a page on here for our journey with alcoholism. There you’ll find links to sites that may help, books, and all my posts that talk on it. My email is there for anyone at anytime to just vent or ask advice. I’ll never judge because I get it. All I want to do is help someone to understand they are not alone – and it’s your choice alone what you do. Whether you live or know an alcoholic, or think you might be one.
Our life is not perfect. It’s perfectly ours. I have said it before, and I’ll say it again. I am happy here. It may be 100* out every day. It may be a tad boring. There are many times I wish he didn’t have to work 16 hour days right now.
It’s our life though. And I love it. I know what it could be, because I’ve lived the flip side already. I hold on to our moments – sober and together – and try to focus on what we’ve built this past year. What God had and has in store for us is amazing, I know it. And no matter what comes my way, I’m holding onto that.
Look where we are – how could I say anything else?
We keep it hot around here. Little texts throughout the day to let each other know, “I care. I miss you. Wish you were here.” 8 years and it’s still so easy to send a simple message of how much we still need each other.
And? It shows.
So close to sexting.
Yeah. We're both a tad bit of badass and naughty wrapped into a vacuum coil.
Nothing says, "You are my everything," quite like a loaded, hot under the collar, "Where's the broom?" question.
Oh – you’re welcome.
Rebecca from Daily Rebecca is one of those blogs you find and think, “Oh my. Oh, how much time can I find to read her?” She is smart and witty and so honest that I often catch myself nodding along as I read. She works full time and manages to keep everything together – so of course I am in awe since taking a shower is, like, applause worthy around here. Please to enjoy her ever-so-real post on her marriage:
Let me start by saying I was beyond thrilled when Diana asked me to guest blog for her. I’ve been stalking following her for months now and have fallen in love with her depth, honesty and sweet spirit. I’m what you would call a UUUGE FAN! (said with my best Donald Trump impersonation)
Her For Better or Worse post got me thinking. I just so happen to be writing this post on my 8th wedding anniversary. Wow, eight years…it seems so close to ten, and ten makes me feel like a grownup!
I met my husband Andy at church youth group when I was 11 and he was 13. I had a crush on his friend. Andy was just the silly sidekick…
By the end of 8th grade, I had it bad for Andy. His friend was old news. I wrote about Andy in my diary, I biked past his house, I watched his every move from 10 pews back on Sunday mornings, I wrote my first name with his last name in a million different ways on any piece of paper I could find.
I was smitten.
I daydreamed about marrying him and living The American Dream. You know, 2.5 kids, house in the suburbs, nice vacations: the works.
I had visions of primping for his company parties. I’d look ravishing and he’d tell me I was the most beautiful woman in the world. We’d dart off in our luxury sedan to enjoy a night on the town while the children stayed home with the sitter. In my dreams we were so fabulous.
Fast-forward 9 years.
The reality was that Andy lost his job 2 months before our wedding. The first year of our marriage was kind of like playing house and kind of like me working while he played video games and job-hunted.
We lived in a modest apartment, not a sprawling suburban colonial. We ordered pizza and watched Friends re-runs. I wore sweats and a t-shirt, not diamonds and cocktail dresses. I stressed about having to bring home the bacon and I stewed about Andy not living up to the fairytale.
I nagged & manipulated. He withdrew & became more passive. I regretted getting married so young & he wondered why he felt indifferent.
We kept up the newlywed façade on the exterior but I became increasingly lonely and depressed on the inside.
Andy was a nice guy. How could I not be grateful for him? He was everything I’d always wanted. He was kind, he was sweet, he didn’t rock the boat, he wasn’t mean, or critical or anything negative. So why did I want to run away?!
Turns out marriage isn’t what it’s made out to be in books and movies. It’s hard work. Its sole purpose isn’t to make us happy. Yeah, that one was hard for me to swallow too.
Marriage is great. It’s intimate and rewarding. It brings our true selves to the surface, and, if we’re willing, it can refine us into the people we were created to be. Go ahead and look up refine (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/refine). Ouch, right?
But remember, it’s the struggles that make the victory so much sweeter.
I’d need a few hours and at least 4 lattes to get through the story of our marriage. What I can say is that all of the hard times have molded us into different people than we were on our wedding day.
We may not be living The American Dream as I’d imagined it to be, but we are living out the story of us.
Rebecca is an enthusiastic and outspoken full-time working mom. She blogs at Daily Rebecca about marriage, motherhood, cooking and trying to keep it all together from day to day. Find her on Twitter as @rgould726.
There was a point in my marriage I thought of leaving Sam nearly every day. At least every weekend. He would drink, we would fight, and by Sunday I was so miserable all I wanted to do was to walk out the door and never come back to the mess we’d made.
Because we’ve all been raised in a society that encourages our need to feel happy and comfortable above almost anything else, the thought of living as we were became unbearable. Everywhere I turned I saw/heard/read that I should leave. Because I deserved better. And when I didn’t go anywhere, I started to beat myself up mentally for that failure as well. I’d threaten to leave then went nowhere. Maybe around the block. It became a joke. The night before I actually did leave Sam, I told him I.was.done. He rolled his eyes and snorted. I can’t blame him, I probably had said those words a half million times. [Read more...]
*Note: if you know Sam and I in real life and/or are related to us, you may want to skip this one. Kisses!
There is something about seeing my husband in uniform, all dirty from a day in the field, shooting a gun and with a sunburn that just does it for me.
Really.
He’s such a man. He’s gone crazy on someone who crudely hit on me in front of him. He’s fought in a war and got a medal. He works and goes to school full time to make our life better. His arms are the size of my thighs (great for him, not so much for me). He can crawl through the mud with a 50lb pack on during the day, and then give Bella a bathie at night.
He’s my complimentary opposite in so many ways that make our marriage click.
He’s great kisser.
He makes me swoon. After nearly 11 years together and 8 1/2 years of marriage, I love him more than I ever could have thought possible. In a different way because of what we’ve been through, and in the same way as when I was 16 and crazy about him in high school.
Sam – Even as I write this and you’re playing the lamest video game known to man :p , I am looking at you as my hero. Knowing that, if you were able in real life, you would also destroy the evil swamp cat monster with the laser that shoots from your eyes to protect us. Or just rub my arm up and down forever because although you hate doing it, I love it so much.
I love everything about you. I’m proud to be your wife, and Bella adores you as her daddy. Happy Father’s Day.
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Link up your confession:
I'm opinionated. Sarcastic. A SAHM. Christian. A proud Army wife. I love to write. I'm crazy about cloth diapers. I struggle with anxiety.
My husband Sam is my high school sweetheart and the love of my life. After nearly 9 years of marriage we've faced PTSD, a war, alcoholism, and moving to a place we never wanted to be but ended up liking. God has continually blessed us in moving here.
One of my biggest joys in life, Bella, was born 11/09 and we're pregnant with our second - and third! That's right - twins!
I tend to emotionally dry heave on this blog from time to time - you've been warned.
This? This is my blog. My thoughts, feelings, faith, and life. Uncensored.
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