- Gender and Relationships»
Marriage is like a House
Cherish, Love, Honor, Obey
Marriage is fragile like a glass house
Any marriage is built like a house and if the supporting framework is weak, the house will eventually fall. The fighting starts slowly. Sometimes it can be disguised as a harmless, funny comment with an irritating grain of truth in it. Over time the fighting increases in frequency and intensity and then, Ka Pow, you reach that final fight. It is the one where the words spoken are so horrendous and hideous, that your glass house shatters in a million tiny pieces and you know deep down in your soul that your marriage is over. The argument is always over something stupid, bread placement on a counter top or in a pantry; will it mold faster in the pantry or dry out the sun? And you think to yourself fifteen years living together and this is what the last fight will be about.
But that is not really what the fight is about. The issues run like a meandering river and much deeper than the calm surface water, we reach for the baggage that has been lying on the bottom dormant for years. These words cut like a knife, “You’re just like your mother.”
“You’re just like your father.”
Our words pierce like arrows to the heart, landing in the weakest spot and dropping us like a wounded deer to our knees. The worst part is when the fighting is finally over and it is like a relief. As if you were trying to hold all the steam in a pressure cooker for years, even though you knew there was a slow leak. Tears will not come. Emotions are drained and you drift through your days on autopilot; a child’s birthday card delivered here, a borrowed book delivered there, the dog needs food, the tires need rotating; I can no longer feel myself.
I am sliding into a dark place I thought I would never be going to and I do not know what will happen or when it will end. I do know I am right with God and he will never leave me nor forsake me. There will be only one set of footprints in the sand for awhile. There is a quiet in this broken house. There is a loud roaring in my head.
Death, I am mourning the death of something I thought would never die. So many arrangements to make. So many people to notify. This process will take over a year. I shall journal my journey and you shall be a voyeur. And so day one is coming to an end as the sun descends into middle earth and the moon is on the rise.
I know sleep will not come easy; there are secrets now.