Tomorrow, my husband and I celebrate 11 years together. A milestone that frankly I never thought I would see. I grew up in a household of domestic hell and as soon as I learned what a divorce was I wished that my parents would divorce everyday. I know I voiced my opinion to my mother aloud more than once. From watching my parents, there was nothing about marriage that made me want to participate in that type of hell.
My plan? To be single forever!! I had no plants, no pets, I was always on the move, I traveled, I worked every hour of the day. There was no one that I wanted to be with and no one that was going to change my mind.
Then… I thought I fell in love. It wasn’t. It was a joke, and I was the butt of that joke. After guarding myself for so long, I had my heart broken, but as I believe, and I have been shown again and again, life prepares us for the next phase, and when I was literally swept of my feet (really, it’s hokey I know, but it did happen) I was ready.
Life, love, marriage is what you make of it. There are ups and downs. As much as I love my husband, sometimes I cannot stand him. And I’m sure that he has moments where he feels the same way. We have enjoyed traveling together, have fought, have cried, have laughed our asses off, have two kids and some days just want to say “fuck it!”, but at the end of the day, we have shared 11 years together. The good, the bad and the ugly. We sit comfortably together in silence, we share frustrations, aspirations and tequila.
Is it perfect? HELL NO! But then again nothing in nature is. So I accept and love him as he is. Passionate, good -hearted, an idealist, an excellent father, a beautiful soul, my pain in the butt, a person that challenges me, that loves me, that drives me crazy and with whom I share my life and soul.
So, 11 years later, we joke about the fact that it feels like a lifetime. We shudder in amazement that we haven’t killed each other, and I thank God for him every day.