Monday, May 13, 2013

One Year Anniversary

Today is May 13, 2013. Exactly one year since our wedding day.

Happy anniversary to us! 
We made it!

Since that day a year ago we've been in 8 different states and lived in three of them. We've gotten joint bank accounts and settled into a familiar rhythm. Between us we've held six jobs. We've made new friends and said goodbye to others. We've celebrated when we came out under budget and eaten pasta (in every possible form) when we came out over.  We've commemorated each passing month and looked around each time as if we can't possibly be doing this right. But we are. We're doing it right because we're doing it. 

As I sit here on our one year anniversary, I feel comfortable. Safe. Familiar. Happy. Reflective.  This year has taught me that marriage can be both the most thrilling and the most painful part of life. At the same time. And yet, I feel good. And I know I haven't always felt this way.

To my ten year-old self: let me tell ya, you won't find Mr. Right. He may not play guitar, cook you dinner, and he probably won't resemble a celebrity. But I promise, it's going to be all right.

To my fourteen year-old self: just because you don't care for the dating culture of your peers doesn't make you a lesbian. Don't worry. You're very, very fond of men.

To my seventeen year-old self: you have to be dating if you ever want to fit in...with the wrong kind of people! You're not a freak. You're actually quite reasonable. You've got a good head on your shoulders and I believe in you. Don't worry about it. You're a good person who will one day attract the right person. Some day.

To my nineteen year-old self: the pressure's on again in college. No, taking a year to live in Cambodia will not ruin your chances of finding a good guy. In fact, it will actually bring a pretty great guy into your life. Crazy, I know. Just go.

To my twenty-one year-old self: yes, you've known since the beginning. He's the one. It's okay to let yourself sink in. To be seen. To be scared. To say that out loud. And to move forward.

To my twenty-five year-old self (who is celebrating this very day): You're great. You're doing this. And I am proud of you. Keep that guy. Give him a hug. He's pretty much the best thing that has ever happened to you. Expect growth and anticipate hardship. Be intentional about finding reasons to laugh. Or make up reasons. Because this one "wild and precious life" has been enriched by your best friend, roommate, and husband. You two are going to be great because you talk, you feel, you compromise, you laugh, and you experience all of this together.

To fifty more.