For Everything There is a Season

"In order to write about life, first you must live it." ~ Ernest Hemingway

Category: marriage (Page 1 of 3)

Becoming Us

September 2, 2016 / / 2 Comments
Photo Courtesy of Myers Creative Photography

To say I have been going through a dry spell with my writing would be a gross understatement. I just took a peek and saw that my last blog post was over THREE MONTHS ago. I have some suspicions about why that happened but I guess what is most important is that I started writing again while we were away in Ireland on vacation. I actually filled up an entire travel journal about our trip and on the flight home, four of the six hours was spent furiously writing in my journal. The other two hours was dedicated to watching the movie, The Departed. Love that one!

Anyways, I feel like I have my writing mojo back, at least I hope so. The words have been running into my brain faster than I can write or process them and that is always a good thing.

Over the past few days I have been acutely aware that Labor Day Weekend is coming up. Six years ago, Labor Day became my favorite holiday weekend and as the weekend approaches every year, the memories of that weekend always resurface. Many of you will recognize this story, but it’s been a few years since I’ve blogged about it and my perspective on it has shifted some, so bear with me.

In August 2009, I FINALLY moved out of the home I shared with my ex-husband. I moved into an apartment and my only roommate was my pooch, Molly. It was truly one of the best times of my life and over the course of the next year and a half of living there by myself, I personally grew in leaps and bounds. After years and years of living with an emotionally abusive alcoholic, I was on the path of reclaiming myself. I felt so free.

I dated on and off. I wasn’t looking for a serious relationship; I wanted to know what it was like to just date someone…no strings attached. For the most part, that didn’t typically go too well for me. I had also become friends with this man who lived in another state (Ohio) and after almost a year of talking on the phone, we realized we had romantic feelings for each other. We met in person, it went fairly well, but once I returned home, the shit hit the fan. I ended up hospitalized due to my Sjogren’s symptoms, he pretty told me I was too much trouble, and that was the end of that. I wasn’t going down that road again. I knew I deserved better.

That event showed me that I was done with dating. When I was having better days physically, I wanted to use my energy on spending more time with my friends and maybe doing some more volunteer work. I had also come to realize that I really didn’t need to be dating, or have a partner, to feel complete. Once you realize that, the fact that you can be happy all on your own, your life takes on a whole new meaning.

At this time in my life, I was very active in my church. I was there just about every single Sunday and I was active in a lot of volunteer work with the church. I had made a lot of friends there, most of whom also became my friends on Facebook. This is one of the nicer things about Facebook, you get to better know people you already know and see in person every week.

Right after my hospitalization, one of those friends started regularly chatting with me after church. He knew, from Facebook, that I had been in the hospital and wanted to see if I needed anything. He asked me about my writing and even though we didn’t appear, on the surface, to have much in common, we could talk comfortably in a way that made it feel like that fact didn’t matter at all.

As the summer waned on, I began to realize that I REALLY started looking forward to church more than I usually did. It was obvious to me that this man’s presence in my life meant something more to me than my other male friends from church. However, I was determined to stay off the dating scene and be this strong, independent woman who was happy being by herself. Because in all honesty, I WAS happy. And I wasn’t willing to give that up again for someone else. Too much had happened to me. Too much had been lost.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that this man from church was having feelings for me and by the end of the summer, it was obvious that the half hour we spent together talking after church just wasn’t enough. And on the Sunday of Labor Day Weekend 2010, he asked me if I wanted to take Molly and go for a walk with him the next day. I said yes because really, what harm was there in that?

So on Monday, we went for our walk.

And then proceeded to spend the entire day together.

When he dropped me off at home, I knew, with certainty, that my life would never again be the same. I knew that I needed this person in my life every day, without exception.

I make it sound easy, but in many ways, it wasn’t. I was incredibly anxious about the whole situation…about opening up my heart again and about the possibility of losing the independence I had worked so hard to achieve. But I also knew that I could not deny what I felt and while at that point I didn’t know for sure that this man felt the same way, I suspected he might. I decided he was worth the risk.

Our relationship snowballed from there. We went on that walk on Labor Day. On Columbus Day, he told me he loved me. The week later, he asked me to move in with him.

I said no.

Even though I was certain at this point I wanted to be with him forever, I wasn’t ready to leave the safe sanctuary I had built for myself. I needed more time.

I lasted until January.
Hey, what can I say?

As I’m sure you have guessed by now, this gentleman from church is my husband, Chuck.

So why am I telling this story again? Well, it is my favorite story for starters. But, it’s more than that. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how much things have changed for me over the past six years; for Chuck as well. I’ve been thinking about a lot of the decisions we both had to make in order to be together and make this work. I’ve been thinking about our differences and about how on the surface, we would seem an unlikely match; you know, the 60’s hippie marrying the 80’s girl thing. And that’s pretty much just the tip of the iceberg.

But over the past six years, it has become obvious that our differences actually make us better partners for each other, mostly because when you get down to what really matters in a relationship, we are more similar than different.

I’ve had many people tell me how lucky I am to have Chuck in my life. Do I know how fortunate I am that a man like my husband exists in this world? Absolutely. But the thing is, luck didn’t have much to do with it at all. I do believe that God certainly did play a part in terms of us both being in the same location at the same time, specifically our church. I also believe God worked through our former pastor as he was the one that brought Chuck back to our church after many years of being away. There is no way to deny that God wanted us together.

But the rest of it? Definitely not luck either. It was a series of very conscious choices that we both made in order to be together. It was a choice on my part, as a child of God, to not settle for any man treating me in a way that was less than what I deserved. I am the one who decided what my worth was and refused to settle for anything less than that. That’s hard stuff.

I see postings on social media all the time about how terribly women are treated by their spouses. Or how terrible children are treated by their parents and vice versa.I read about how people settle for friends who view them as disposable. If you don’t hear anything else I say in this entire blog post, please hear this…

I don’t care who you are.
You are NOT disposable.
You deserve love and respect just as much as nobody and don’t EVER let anyone tell you differently.
I really wish someone had told me that when I was married to my first husband.
So I am telling YOU now.

If you have people treating you less than the precious gift God intended you to be, you need new people. Like now.

There were other conscious choices my husband and I made as well. Some of them minor, some of them much more important.

I found out long after we got together that my husband was interested in me long before I thought he was. I thought his romantic interest in me grew from the time I got out of the hospital until that Labor Day Weekend. What I didn’t realize was that he was interested in me for almost the whole time he was back in church. I’m guessing that was at least six months, if not longer. But he saw, from Facebook, that I had gotten involved with the man from Ohio and he waited.

He waited.

That’s the kind of love we all deserve.
Someone who is in it for the long haul.
Someone who thinks you are worth waiting for.

Luck certainly had nothing to do with us being together one week in 2011 when I realized I needed to make a decision about whether I was going to stay or leave Chuck. There was no fight, no argument. We didn’t even really have a disagreement. No raised voices. What we did have was a discussion that made it glaringly clear that there was an insurmountable obstacle between us, a deal breaker so to speak. Nothing that he did wrong, nothing that I did wrong….just two very different wishes for our future. There were a lot of tears that week and a lot of soul searching. There was a difficult decision to be made.

I obviously stayed.
And I’ve never looked back.

So why do I mention all this? Because I think that people look at us, use the term “lucky” in describing our relationship, and sometimes think that a relationship like ours is unattainable. I’m hear to tell you it is not. But, it is a lot of hard work. You don’t see our hard work. Well, maybe a few of you do. Our hard work is the day to day stuff that makes our marriage stronger each and every day. You won’t see it on Facebook. You will actually NEVER see a negative post, sarcastic comment, or passive-aggressive statement from one of us about the other on Facebook, or any other social media site. That is part of our covenant to each other. That is part of our hard work together.

I think that is part of why I love this time of year and looking back at the story of how our marriage came to be. It reminds me to not take the hard work for granted, It reminds me of our beginning and how special it truly was. It reminds me that your past hurts do not have to define who you are or where you go in life. And finally, it reminds me that in life, sometimes you just have to take a risk and  grab onto your happiness when it is right in front of you.

Loving Someone With A Chronic Illness

March 11, 2015 / / 2 Comments

This post is being prompted by an incident that occurred last night. One that unfortunately, happens more often than I would like. And much more often than my husband would like. As I have talked about previously on this blog and on its Facebook page, I have been struggling with some issues regarding my feet. The issues started last July and after seeing a doctor, I was diagnosed with plantar fasciitis and tarsal tunnel syndrome in both feet.

The short version of the story is that I have been through months of physical therapy, countless doctor’s appointments, night splints, trigger point therapy, orthotics in my shoes, the list goes on and on. It is likely that Sjögren’s is a contributing factor and possibly the cause of this. Starting in December, I decided, after much consideration, to consent to cortisone injections in both feet. I had one in each foot with some relief, but the relief was only temporary. I then had a second injection in my right foot two weeks ago today and after a few days of some relief, things went from bad to worse, and pretty quickly I might add.

My right foot is now at the point where the tarsal nerve is so messed up and irritated, that a good part of my foot is numb. I am also getting little electric-like sensation from time to time and some pain. I am scheduled for an MRI at the end of this week and have been given strict orders from my doctor to stay off my feet as much as possible, with the exception of going to work. Luckily, I only work about two to three days a month for six and a half hours at a time. I was told absolutely no exercising or long distance driving, and I had to give up the one thing that always helps my stress and that is yoga.

So after working a regular shift at the school yesterday, I started with some pain around 5pm that by 8pm, had me reduced to tears. While I figured it was good that I could actually FEEL something in my foot, the pain became unbearable. Despite how much I go through with Sjögren’s and pain, it is rare for me to end up in tears over it. The pain medicine I could take would likely keep me awake all night, but I decided to go ahead and take it, as well as some heavy duty sleep medication that I save for emergencies like this. Today I woke up rested, and with a numb foot again. But, crisis temporarily under control.

My husband was with me last evening and I have to say, he did a fantastic job of helping me through the evening. It is so hard for him, I know it is. We laid in bed together watching TV for several hours while I worked through this incident. Actually, WE worked through this incident together. However I know it is hard for him because we have talked about this issue enough for me to now understand how difficult it is for him to see me in pain or in a really bad way.

I didn’t really know this or get it when we first got together…how much he struggles when things go bad with me. I didn’t know because he is so stoic and calm. He always tries to cover his fears for my sake. But I know. Now I do anyways.

As we have grown together as a couple, our talks have helped him to understand my needs and what works for me. And the talks have also helped me to understand some of what he is going through when I am having a medical crisis of some sorts. And what works for us may not work for every person with a chronic illness or the person that is trying to care for them or help them.

Last night, like all the other times recently, he really got it right. Trial and error I suppose. And some really good communication on both our parts. For example, when I am in that much pain, I want to be held, but not too tight. Its hard for me to have the TV too loud or too much stimulation around me. I also need some type of physical distraction so what he does is he gently rubs my head, or massages my legs, or some other physical touch that helps my brain distract from the pain that I am experiencing. As long as it doesn’t involve the part that is actually hurting.

Sometimes.

And other times, it does help to touch the part that is hurting, although with nerve pain like I had last night, that was not the case. So how does he know? He asks me. And I am direct in telling him. And it works. And it works when he gets out of bed for the third time to get me the Motrin I forgot to take when I was up the previous time. And it works when he distracts me with ridiculous jokes or stories.

He also listens intently to what I am saying about my pain experience, if I even want to talk about it which if I don’t, we have quiet time. When I talk about it, and he listens, he helps me figure out what the best course of action to take. For example last night, I was trying to decide if I should go ahead and take the pain medication because if I did, I would also have to take something to help me sleep. Otherwise the lack of sleep would worsen the pain cycle. However my husband knows that I am very careful about taking possibly addictive substances like this too often. He helps me think it through out loud to determine if yes, this is necessary or no, I can wait it out and see what happens. Last night, it was necessary.

Its not easy loving someone with a chronic illness.It takes an incredible amount of love and dedication to live this lifestyle each and every day with someone. One thing that I know has helped my husband is that he attends SSF support groups with me. Not only does it give him an opportunity to hear what it is like for other people to live with my illness, but it gives him a chance to talk to other partners, spouses, and caregivers about their experiences. At the last support group meeting we went to, he mentioned to me, after talking with other spouses, that he didn’t realize how many Sjögren’s patients also have a difficult time going out in the evening because by 6pm or so, they are ready for bed. Going out in the evening is a very difficult thing for my husband and I because I am absolutely exhausted and ready for bed. It takes a lot of preparation and pre-planning on my part to get myself out of the house in the evening. And, a lot of rest beforehand. Because he is aware of that, he makes sure to consult with me about activities, especially ones that just involve the two of us. For example, we don’t go to the 8pm showing of a movie. You will instead find us at the 1 or 2pm matinee, where by the way, we save a ton of money going to an earlier show!

I used to feel guilty about the effects my illness has on my husband. I think I even blogged about that very topic at one point. I no longer feel that way though. And the reason for that is simple:

I no longer let my illness define every aspect of my life.
At least most days.
And together, we have established and defined what our normal consists of.

And with the help of his love, I have come to understand that yes, life is more challenging for us than for many other couples, but despite that, I have just as much to offer a partner as anyone else. Throughout all this, all my husband asks from me, both on my good days and on my bad ones, is that I love him.

And I do.
Completely, and without reservation.

And that makes every single day worth fighting for.

What Does It Mean To Love Someone?

December 9, 2013 / / 0 Comments

I have had the topic of love on the brain lately. And by love I don’t mean just the romantic kind, but rather, the love that exists between two human beings, no matter what the relationship is. I was married six months ago, I went to a family wedding recently, I have ended several relationships in the past year for one reason or another, and I have this crazy dog that is getting older whom I love more than just about anything else in this world. My capacity to love is great and my ability to receive love is even greater.

We are so reckless with the term “love” sometimes. The words come tumbling out of our mouths, sometimes without a second thought. Maybe I am a bit of a skeptic on this topic, but to me, there is no such thing as love at first sight. I can hear the readers gasp as they read this, as I have made no secret about my overwhelming and whirlwind courtship with my husband. My attraction to him was immediate, but I did not “fall in love with him” at first sight. That was more of a chemical pheromone reaction.  I fell in love with him when he talked to me on our first date about the impact that his sister’s Multiple Sclerosis has had on him. I fell in love with him when he talked about his two children and what it was like to raise them. I fell in love with him when, seeing how exhausted I was one evening, he went to find the leash and took my dog out for me before he left my apartment for the night.

I have had people tell me they love me at times and it has made me scratch my head: a new friend who tells me she loves me as she is verbalizing, in detail, all the ways in which I have failed as a friend. There is a fine line between open communication and honesty, and someone who is holding your hand to the fire while they are saying things supposedly for your own good. I have received e-mails that start with “I love you but….” while they continue to describe the ways that I have been wrong. I have also done the same; believing that by reminding a person that I love them, it will somehow lessen the blow of my honesty. I have had people tell me they love me while looking me directly in the eye and tell me lie after lie. These events are not exclusive to me; they happen to us all and as human beings, we are capable of doing them to other people.

While thinking about what it means to love, it has raised the question for me if we always understand what love is about. We, as a society, are so frivolous with the word, love, itself. We love this person and that person, oftentimes before we even develop a true relationship with them. We say we love someone based on their gregarious personality, or their compassion for other people, or maybe even because we are obligated to, because they are related to us.

But what is love really about? I don’t pretend to have all the answers, but I know what it is not:

It does not envy.

It does not boast.

It is not self-seeking.

It is not proud.

It does not dishonor others.

Thank you Corinthians 13…

I know love is much more complicated than that. But we all have to start somewhere. Corinthians 13 also says that “love never fails.” But is this true? We hear it said at so many weddings nowadays, but yet half of all marriages end in divorce. Does that mean that we never really loved in the first place or is it possible for love to fail? Or maybe it is more accurate to say that we, as people, failed?

I heard it said recently that love is a verb and not a noun. I understand the point the speaker was trying to make: that love is an action. But, I disagree that it is not a noun. Yes, love is an action or a verb. We love someone. We show love to someone. We do acts of love. But to me, it is also a noun. Love is this THING that is so much greater than ourselves. It is a spiritual force that drives us to do things that we may not normally do, or even want to do. Love compels us to accept those in our lives, despite their faults. Love compels us to forgive. Love is the presence in our homes, churches, schools and such that make our souls sing…

It is patient.

It is kind.

It always protects,
always trusts,
always perseveres,
and always hopes.

That is love.

Our Wedding Vows

September 12, 2013 / / 0 Comments

During my fall cleaning this week I came across our wedding vows. I thought it was quite appropriate since we are leaving in thirteen days for our honeymoon. Looking at each of our vows on paper is interesting because it reflects each of our personalities, especially in the length. It was also interesting because I think I didn’t take all that much longer to recite my vows because I talked so much faster!Enjoy.

Chuck’s Wedding Vows:

Christine, you are the one for whom I waited and I take you as my wife today, my lifelong friend, love, and partner.

I promise to support you in all that you do, to encourage you, and to try and inspire you.

I promise to care for you when you need it and to let you take care of me when I’m in need.

I promise to try to make you laugh, and try harder not to make you cry.

I promise to always listen to your questions and concerns, and to try really hard to respond to them in a timely fashion.

I promise to always appreciate how lucky I am, to love you, and to show that love to you each and every day, in the winter as well as the summer, and on rainy days as well as sunny ones, forever.

All I have, all that I am, all that I will be, is yours.

Chris’s Wedding Vows

Love by Roy Croft
I love you not only for what you are but for what I am when I am with you.
I love you not only for what you have made of yourself but for what you are making of me.
I love you for the part of me that you bring out.
I love you for putting your hand into my heaped-up heart
And passing over all the foolish, weak things that you can’t help dimly seeing there
And for drawing out into the light all the beautiful belongings that no one else had looked quite far enough to find.
I love you because you are helping me to make of the lumber of my life
Not a tavern, but a temple.
Out of the works of my every day
Not a reproach, but a song.
I love you because you have done more than any creed could have done to make me good
And more than any fate could have done to make me happy.
You have done it without a touch, without a word, without a sign.
You have done it by being yourself.

So I Christine, take you Chuck, to be my husband. For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. On this day I promise to be faithful and true to you and only you.

I promise to step outside of myself in order to meet your needs and our needs as a couple.

I also promise to never interrupt or start a conversation during a Celtics play-off game. But only the play off games.

I promise you that I will never take our love for granted.

I promise, from this day forward, to never ever complain about you messing up my bed pillows at night, when all you want to do is be close to me.

I promise that whenever necessary, I will put your children’s needs before my own.

I promise to treat your children and their sisters with the same amount of caring and respect that you treat them with.

I promise to trust you implicitly and without reservation.

I promise to always be your best friend. The person you can count on to confide in and to lift you up when you are down. I will be the gentle hand in the middle of the night and your port in every storm. I promise to do my best to make the rest of our lives together full of joy and laughter. I will always honor our marriage and I will love you all the days of my life.

Why I Am Not Mrs. Myers

June 8, 2013 / / 4 Comments

Not too long ago I posted on this blog’s Facebook page that I was not going to be changing my last name when I got married. I had varied responses to that news and differing opinions not to what I should do, but to what others would do. It was very interesting to hear various viewpoints on this issue.

Since I got married May 18th, it has become quite apparent to me how many people, those who didn’t see that Facebook post, have naturally assumed that I am now Mrs. Myers (my husband’s last name) or Christine Myers. Technically, Mrs. means “the wife of” and I take absolutely no offense to that. I am his wife and very proud of that fact.

I have done a lot of reading on this subject, mostly because I truly struggled with the decision and because it interests me as to why some women change their birth name when they get married and why some don’t. According to the Huffington Post in an article posted April, 2013, only 8% of women now keep their last name after marriage. This is down from 23% in the 1990’s. Although it appears that as a woman who kept her birth name I am in the minority, I don’t think any woman really takes that decision making process lightly.

My name history is as follows. I was born Christine Jeanne Molloy. My dad picked out my first name. My middle name is my mother’s first name. My last name is an Irish surname that represents my grandfather’s family who originally migrated from Ireland to Newfoundland and finally to Massachusetts. When I married my first husband in 2000, I changed my middle name to my birth name (Molloy) and assumed my ex-husband’s last name. By the time we separated in 2008, I was counting the days until I resumed my birth name once again. The biggest reason for that was because I felt that in the years I was married, I lost my identity and I regretted ever changing it in the first place.

When Chuck, my current husband, and I were discussing this issue months ago, he made it very clear that it was my choice. I struggled with the issue enormously because I could make a case to go in either direction. There was a part of me that wanted to take his last name so that we would be identified as a married couple. At first I thought that taking his name would represent our togetherness and our love.

Although I believe in women’s rights, I am not a woman who would be considered a staunch feminist. One of the arguments that is made about women who do change their name when they marry is that if a woman does change her surname, it implies she belongs to a man or another person. That we, as women, need to keep our name in order to not lose our independence. I read that in an article; more than one article actually. I disagree with the fact that changing your name causes you to lose your independence. I also disagree with the fact that changing your name implies you belong to a man. Because no matter what your choice is in regards to your name, the fact is you DO belong to another person when you marry them. Not in a possessive way but in a commitment way. My heart belongs to my husband and just as much, his belongs to me. It has nothing to do with what names we choose to go by.

OK, so then why did I decide to keep my name? Because to start with, it’s my name. I am Christine Jeanne Molloy. The person who with all her strengths and weaknesses, is a person who is proud of who she is. Christine Myers didn’t graduate from nursing school. Christine Molloy did. Christine Myers didn’t survive cancer. Christine Molloy sure as hell did though. Some people might be asking now then, why did I change my name the first time I got married? Because I was 29 years old then, not 42. A lot of how I think changed during those years and I thank god for that.

I did have someone ask me before I got married if I thought I was afraid to change my last name again because of how lousy my first marriage, especially since I was so eager to get my birth name back. I did seriously think about that question because when you are marrying for the second time and the divorce rate for second marriages is around 60%, you need to be honest with yourself and make sure you are carrying as little baggage into a marriage as possible. What I realized was that if I had never been married before, I still wouldn’t change my name now. It’s not fear, just a different viewpoint.

I joked with Chuck when we were having this name change conversation about why couldn’t the expectation be that the man changes his last name? I never in a million years thought he would consider that. But he surprised me. He said that if he didn’t have children who shared his last name that maybe he would consider the possibility. However after I thought about it some more, I realized that for all the same reasons I wanted to keep my surname, so would I want him to keep his. It is who he is and it is where he comes from. I would never want to change that.

This last name issue is my personal decision. I know people who have kept their birth name, have assumed their spouse’s name, have hyphenated the two names, have used two names, and who have completely changed their name. I have no issue with any of those decisions. I don’t disagree and honestly, it doesn’t even matter to me. What does matter to me is how I feel about who I am. Once we stop worrying about other’s people’s choices and focus on our own decisions, the world becomes a much better place to live in.

I did a bit of reading this morning about this issue because one of the questions that was presented to me is how should I be identified in say, correspondence for example? For me, anyone that bothers to send us correspondence, such as an invitation, will not be scrutinized. According to various websites the proper format is to address us as follows:

Ms. Christine Molloy and Mr. Charles Myers

Apparently the woman’s name always comes first and the “and” is important. The “and” indicates that the couple is married. If the couple was not married, their names would be listed in a column format like this:

Ms. Christine Molloy
Mr. Charles Myers

So what would happen if someone sent us an invitation or piece of mail that looked like this?

Mr. and Mrs. Charles Myers

That’s great! While my name is not Christine Myers, I am “the wife of” Charles Myers so no, I wouldn’t have a hissy fit. Because most likely, someone just didn’t know about my decision to keep my name. And again, I am the “wife of”. It would be funny though if we received mail that looked like this:

Mr. and Mrs. Christine Molloy

Throughout this process I have learned that the name I have in no way represents the strength or quality of the love I have for my husband. Anyone who was at our wedding ceremony for at least 30 seconds would have seen that with their own eyes. I have also learned that when I listen hard enough to my own gut, the answers are right there. The day we went to apply for our marriage license there was a space that said “surname after marriage” or something to that effect. I realized that I had not 100% made a decision in my mind before we went to the town hall. And then it happened. My heart said to write Molloy and before I even had a chance to question it, my pen was on the paper writing the letters that have forever known to be a representation of who I am: Christine Jeanne Molloy.

Photo Courtesy of: irishsurnames.com

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