When Eric and I
first got married, life was less complicated.
Having found each other was everything, even more than we could
have hoped for, and it rendered everything else unimportant.
We both felt for the first time that someone finally “got”
us. We could be serious and
no one would criticize it, or we could be goofy and not lose the
other’s respect. We could
be ourselves, good and bad, and still be loved.
No one would be left, unless they really deserved it.
The promise that when you met the right person you would “just
know” isn’t always a lie. Eric was going
to graduate school while I worked part-time.
We lived in someone’s basement and slept on a futon platform
bed only three inches off the floor.
Every morning when we woke up, we would lounge in bed and talk
about what we’d dreamed of the night before.
Back then, I had vivid dreams every night, and most of them were
good. It is the only time
in my entire life when I felt peaceful.
I wasn’t worried or scared, I felt happy all the time, and when
I imagined the future, I was filled with hope. But, the problem isn’t with my marriage. How happy and certain we are together is dependable. He is my family. But, the better our external circumstances get, the more complicated my internal experience becomes, and I was unable to locate the exact moment when it started nor could I understand why. What I did know was that it had to change. I had to change it.
© Salahub 2003 |