Marriage. Isn’t. Perfect. I share nice thoughts and comments about my husband from time to time, when the feeling strikes me or when I feel compelled to remind him and everyone that I am thankful for him. These are love notes that for me, as a writer, are one of the ways that I can show affection and care. Because the truth is, I’m not always affectionate or sweet or caring in all of my moments as a wife, or as a mom, or as a friend. I can be difficult… I can be aloof, insensitive, craving alone time because I’ve met my limit for physical or emotional intimacy. I can be moody, sarcastic, cold. There are days that I protect my fragile inner voice with harsh outer words, eye rolls and shrugs. I am not the perfect partner. My partner is not the perfect partner either. I don’t know if there really could be such a thing, because humans just really aren’t perfect in any way.
My husband and I do a thousand small things that annoy each other. Our reactions to those peccadillos range on any given day depending on the external factors that we’ve faced out in the world, or the kids, or the dogs, or the hormones, or the lack of sleep, or the whatevers. There are also a thousand pieces of an everyday puzzle that determine how we greet the small annoyances that we exchange back and forth. Some days we can laugh about it. Other days, I can’t fathom a cleaned dish touching the counter top, and he can’t understand why I left the refrigerator door open … again! And on these days perhaps our voices grow louder than they would on a different day, when less stress has swept through our household. On these days, maybe we argue about nothing for a while, until we don’t want to argue anymore, when on other days I would simply put away the glass that is touching the countertop without a word said, and he would close the refrigerator door once again.
(I realize that dishes and doors aren’t very big issues and it would be easy to rebut my message here, countering that actual marriage issues leave much heavier emotional scars and warrant much larger reactions. This is true. We’ve had our share of challenges that carry heavier weight, but for the most part, we are lucky (maybe not all luck) to always come back to the same page. If you don’t, I a million percent have no judgement on your relationship. It is yours to figure out.)
So, when I say something nice publicly about my relationship or my husband, I absolutely mean it 1000 percent. It is the way I can do a nice thing. It’s part of my love language or whatever they call it. It doesn’t mean that I have a perfect relationship, and it doesn’t mean that marriage is or should be easy.
I find myself this morning, again, with something nice to say. I have to admit that where I am cold or standoffish, or stubborn, or moody, there is a balance usually from my partner in the form of patience, understanding, and support. And often, we switch roles to keep this balance in check. Sometimes he feels low, not himself, not easily able to give as he usually does. In these moments, I take my turn as the patient one, when I can. It’s much more natural for him, but in our nineteen years together, I’ve figured out that I need to put effort into that role as well.
Here is what I really wanted to say: I write because that’s all I know to do. But, for me, it’s the coffee in the morning.
Every morning, when my husband gets ready very early for work, he says goodbye to my half asleep, nonsensical-in-the-morning ass, kisses my forehead and leaves a full thermos of coffee next to the bed for me. He puts it in the cup that will stay hot, adds the creamer the way I like it, and leaves for work. He’s making his coffee anyway, so he does mine right alongside his, but the point is, he doesn’t have to. He does it only because he knows I love it, and that it helps me start my day when I finally get up the hour after he leaves. He leaves the coffee regardless of if we are getting along great, or I’ve been moody all week, or if we’ve had an argument the night before. It’s his way of showing care and affection. It’s a little thing that reminds me that this guy is in the fight of life with me every day.
I was thinking about this all when I took my first sips of hot coffee this morning without having to leave my bed. And I felt the need to say something nice about it. But I know that sometimes, from the outside it doesn’t seem real when all that is told is the good stuff. I guess I kind of feel that the bad stuff wraps itself into the good stuff though. We don’t usually get to appreciation and mutual respect without having gone through some shit together too. As humans, we don’t usually learn to love deeply without also learning what hurt feelings, resentment, and disappointment feel like too. We are precarious beings, and our relationships may be even more so. Our connections take work. My husband is my family. He is the one I turn to first whenever there is trouble in my world. He’s also the one that could hurt me the easiest, and every day we trust each other not to.
And all of this long winded explanation about non perfect marriages is really just so I can say: “thank you for the coffee this morning. It really makes my day.”
Rachael Coughlin 