Choosing Marriage

I cringe every time I hear the words, “marriage is just a piece of paper” or hear marriage referred to as an antiquated contract. Sure, there are legal ramifications that only accompany a marital bond. There is also the religious institution of marriage that may lack validity to those who classify themselves as agnostic, atheist, or non-religious.  But, marriage is what you make it.  As I see it, marriage is ultimately about choosing someone to become your family. 

After more than ten years of marriage, I still become teary-eyed when I realize that Mike is my family because we chose to make it so. I was thoroughly committed to him for the six years preceding our wedding, but marriage is deeper than just commitment or monogamy.  For me, marriage has been a patient journey toward unconditional love and acceptance of my spouse and myself. 

Most other familial relationships exist because of birth and relation. As a result, there is likely already a foundational love of that family member before hardships are endured and flaws are recognized.  Marriage is a special exception to that. It is a unique opportunity to make a person your family, inclusive of every strength, every weakness, every perfection, and every flaw. It is vowing to a person that you have chosen them to be forever part of your lineage, regardless of the number of years married. Marriage is not always simple, nor is it always certain. When life is difficult and overshadows my marriage, it is not the paper certificate locked away in my fire safe that brings me solace. It is my husband, my chosen family, that brings me comfort. All legal, religious, and contractual implications could be removed from marriage and I would still choose Mike to be my family day after day. As long as marriage remains the path to making that so, I will continue to denounce the "marriage is just a piece of paper" argument. 

More Than My Anxiety

Crippling.

Overwhelming.

Frightening.

Consuming.

Suffocating.

Anxiety is all of these and more. I have struggled with anxiety since pre-adolescence, with it peaking when I turned 15. At that time, I was medicated for depression, which helped manage my anxiety, but by no means controlled it. For the seven subsequent years, I remained medicated, but anxiety always lurked over my shoulder. Whenever I felt the anxiety building, I would shrink inside of myself and make a mental note to avoid whatever situation had stirred it up. Just before I turned 22, I was sure that I had overcome both my depression and anxiety and I chose to discontinue my medication under doctor's supervision. That's when my real work began.

I abruptly realized that the anxiety I had blamed on erratic adolescent hormones was still very much present. Most frightening of all, I had not spent the effort developing coping mechanisms to recognize and quell it. I quickly succumbed to the fact that my anxiety was stronger than me. I resolved that I was weak. I was caught off guard by frequent panic attacks. I was enveloped in anxiety that holed me up inside of my house and inhibited my personal growth. But, I unhealthily suppressed my emotions, avoided reaching out for help, and forced myself to keep smiling.

Then, I became pregnant and my anxiety grew to ever-present heights. I was acutely aware that I was always one trigger away from a panic attack or searching for a giant rock to hide under. Yet, still, I was too stubborn and ashamed to admit my struggles and just kept smiling despite my inner turmoil. Just a few months after Danica was born, clouded by countless sleepless nights and surmounting anxieties, I shouted unspeakable words at my husband. After my emotional explosion, I sat in the silent shadows nursing my infant daughter and promised her that I would find a way to be better. I had hit my limit. I was at my mental rock bottom. The next morning, I bared my heart to my husband, which is something I should have done years sooner. I then began researching my anxiety with an open mind and enlisted the support of a trusted psychologist. 

In the years since then, I have taken a proactive attitude toward my anxiety and have come to respect it. It is an ongoing journey that requires continuous adaptation. But, I have learned:

1. Anxiety is not my weakness, nor does it define me. It is a characteristic of myself, in the same way that I have brown eyes and a tendency to giggle uncontrollably when I'm tickled. It is not shameful, it is just a trait that sometimes creates obstacles. 

2. Anxiety has allowed me to learn how to recognize my true triggers. It is not the sink full of dishes that will hurl me into a panic attack. It is the feelings of inadequacy I have been swallowing, coupled with feeling like I have a full plate with no outlet, sprinkled with the dozens of other tasks that also need to be completed. Recognizing the root cause allows me to be proactive and verbalize my struggle, which pulls me away from my anxiety spiral. 

3. Anxiety has helped me become a great organizer and multi-tasker. Frankly, making lists and staying organized helps me better control it. When my anxiety is better controlled, my head is clear enough to enlist the necessary coping mechanisms and support to prevent it from getting on top of me. 

4. My struggles have gifted me the intuition to see that my daughter's irritability is not pure defiance, it is anxiety. As a manager of my own anxiety, I hope to model techniques and impart my learned tools onto her. 

5. Anxiety has reinforced the value of introspection and stress management. Prioritizing time for my own solitude is an invaluable gift. Keeping my daily stresses managed through talking about my feelings, deep breathing, and exercise has been a life changer. Rather than allowing my emotions to explode, I can digest the stress and effectively work my way through it.

Sometimes it still feels inescapable, but my anxiety has proven that I have the wherewithal to move beyond it. Perhaps my anxiety has been a gift that has just taken time and patience to unwrap.