Let's Get Real About Marriage

I walked down the aisle with my dad to the man I would spend the rest of my life with. I not only had the privilege to walk with my dad, but then have him officiate my wedding. It is still one of the sweetest memories I have with my dad. While officiating, my dad gave us advice. It was something that he had learned from his nearly 30 years of marriage to my mom. In the moment, I listened, nodded and went on to say my vows, not really grasping or realizing how helpful that advice would be in the next few years. I may have been a little too focused on how hot my husband looked, getting to finally live with him, and getting ready to lay a big fat ‘ol kiss on him in front of my dad without feeling too guilty ;).

We still try to live by the advice my dad gave even though some days are just a flat out struggle. One piece of advice was “fight.” Don’t be afraid to create waves or conflict in marriage, because if you don’t, if you choose to say silent, you will make tidal waves. Five years in and Ashton and I still struggle on how to fight. I’m more like a let me say it how it is, sometimes raise my voice, let’s exaggerate the facts, don’t interrupt or mess with me, and you better give me my space after, kind of fighter. And In my opinion, Ashton is more gentle, a don’t yell, let’s be realistic, let’s say exactly what happened, let me state the facts, and can I kiss or joke with you after to make it all go away within two minutes, kind of fighter. Basically, we are polar opposites while fighting. Although it has come leaps and bounds since our first year of marriage it something we work at every day. Communication is hard.

Here is just one example of one of our early-on dysfunctional fights:

We had just had our first daughter, Scotland, and Grandma offered to babysit so we could have a date night. I was so excited my hormonal-self could hardly see straight. My husband and I are both sports fanatics, so of course we chose to go to a baseball game. Being very respectful of our budget, I went out, got a new cute outfit (colors that matched the Mariners), shoes that matched the sports theme, cute new non-maternity pants, did my hair, and (let’s just be real moms) I showered—showers are few and far between when kids come. I was ready to hit the town with my man. I was so excited for Ashton to get home from work so we could get going. When Ashton came home it was clear to see he was distracted with work, on his phone, getting phone calls, emails, etc. The rational side of me thought this: he owns a business, is under a lot of stress, go easy on him. He’ll notice my freshly washed and curled hair when he looks up. The irrational part of me thought, if he looks at that flipping phone one more time I’m going to throw it in the microwave and give our kid her first firework show. When we finally got out the door Ashton, still looking at his phone, asked if I could drive to Seattle so he could work on the way. That’s when, I’m just going to say it, shit hit the fan. When he looked up to see my response or lack thereof, he knew I was hurt, angry, and all of the above. He quickly jumped in the driver’s seat and started driving. At that point I was over it. Angry, hungry, and over it. I was Hangry. I stayed silent the whole drive and the whole Mariners game. I had been so excited to go on a date with my husband, have him tell me how pretty I looked, ask me questions about my day, talk to someone other than a baby, buy me garlic fries, and maybe end the night with Dippin’ Dots. Instead, I let it ruin my whole night and I settled for a salmon Caesar salad. Nothing compared to garlic fries. I had let a small fight turn into a night of silence and tears. I had ruined a date night at a point in our lives where they were few and far between.

Boy do I remember that fight. When I asked her to drive and looked up for her response I am fairly certain that I was not going to make it through the night. I was a goner. However, that was not going to stop me from trying. I went into fix-it mode overdrive. “Honey, I am sorry.” “Honey, I am really busy at work.” I am not sure what else came out of my mouth but I know it started with, “Honey.” Then I tried a little bit of “feel bad for me” defense. “I got off early and it is just emails and you know I have to work.” “It really is not that big of a deal.” The hole I was digging was getting deeper and wider with each passing mile-marker. I think she said she wanted to turn around and go home by the half-hour mark.

Ashley said it right. She wanted to go home and she was not going to have fun that night no matter what.  We were both wrong—me more than her. I get caught up in work. I feel as if I have to answer that last email. I must make sure everything is perfect. The good side of that is I am successful. The downside is the attention and energy this sucks out of me. Whether I say it out loud or not, I far too often rely (most of the time in my head) on my wife needing to be more understanding of my job. For gosh sakes, I work hard. I make money that allows us to live in the home we do, go to the games, etc. How could Ashley not see this?

See, my sin of choice is often self-idolatry. My backward thinking often leads my mind down the path of what “I” have done or what “I” have accomplished. This doesn’t take into account my bride’s contribution, and it also completely eviscerates God’s contribution. My family has a home because God allows it. Money ends up in my bank account because God allows it. It is fights like this with Ashley that help level me back out. I was wrong when it came to preparing for date night. I was wrong for not focusing on our night out. I was wrong for not making sure my wife knows that she is a supermodel in my eyes. I was wrong.

Although we still struggle, Ashton and I have come leaps and bounds from this type of fight. I know that I would rather not ruin a whole night with him and stay angry at something that can be resolved fairly quickly. I am blessed with a husband who listens when something makes me angry, sad, hurt, or happy. He is quick to apologize when he is in the wrong—which I know is difficult for a lot of people, including myself. Learning how to fight is still a struggle for us every day. But we work on it. We communicate. And we pray. Don’t ever stop praying. Currently, I’m trying to practice what I preach…when all I really want to do is cuddle on the couch tonight and watch Monday Night Football—but Ashton wanted to go for a long run on the treadmill. He is now running on the treadmill and I am having a glass of wine watching football. By myself. ‘Nuf said.

Keep fighting: There is no perfect way to fight. What is important is that you do it and then in the good times circle back to it. Work to understand the others position. If it just causes another fight you have not worked through it and you need to get to the bottom of it. These things take time. Engage help of a counselor or trusted couple if needed.  Another important aspect is to fight fair.  Set the boundaries.  It goes unsaid that we do not swear at one another.  We engage and have discussions in front of our children but do not all out fight.  We try our best to stay away from permanent terms, like, “you always”, “you never”.  We do not put down or criticize one another in front of the children.  This list is not exhaustive but discuss the boundaries as it will make for a fair playing field.

Pray: Do this for one another. Out loud and together. Pray for your spouse’s wellbeing, and pray that you are able to learn from your mistakes. We pray together each night when we go to bed. We have the same schedule so it works for us. If you do not go to bed at the same time as your spouse, find another time you can do this.

Learn: This is not the only time we had this fight. However, after a few times we sat down and discussed it. “Why do we keep having this fight?” “What hurt you?” Ashton realized that a few hours of total focus on his bride while enjoying a beer and French fries will make her month. Not just day, but month. Ashley has learned to forgive. When these situations arise she expresses her frustration and verbalizes her hurt. “We planned date night and you hurt me by not paying any attention and asking me to drive just so you could be on your phone.”  Sitting angry and silent on the way to the game (and throughout) led to a fake-smile selfie for Facebook and barely a kiss goodnight. We were both miserable. Ashley realizing she can control her outlook has limited these situations in the future.