Is marriage worth fighting for?

Confession: Sometimes my marriage is good but mostly it is not what I thought it would be.

I thought marriage would bring closeness, not distance. I thought that after living in the same home together and cutting out all of the driving between two places we would spend more time together, not less. I thought we would go on adventures together, not sign up for separate bible studies and extra curricular activities. I thought that after disagreements we would have “make up sex,” not emotional distance. 

But here we are 11 years later and the only thing I got right about what I thought marriage would be is this: it’s hard. What I did not realize 11 years ago, is that getting through the hard times is like working a muscle: you have to push through the pain and wanting to quit. Making marriage work is a lot more than just a mental decision or a heart posture. It requires actual work and effort. And no, it does not get easier over time—it just gets simpler. At some point you decide that a good marriage is worth fighting for so you spend less time blaming or making excuses and you accept that you cannot change your partner. So the only thing left to do is work on yourself and what you can control. This blog post is me working on myself and executing what I can control: 2 hours alone in a library study room so I can think, write, process and refresh. 

Right now I’m in one of the hardest times of my marriage. Not the hard of hurt feelings and disagreements and ships passing in the night. That was a lifetime ago. I’m talking about the hard part of fighting for my marriage and being willing to be misunderstood. It’s the kind of hard that actually looks like I’m not fighting for it at all. It actually looks a lot more like separation. Because it is. I am choosing a temporary emotional and mental separation. 

This is the first time in my marriage when I’ve acted with purpose on the thought of separation. In times past, I would think about separation and end up just giving Bryan the cold-shoulder or silent treatment. I would sit with my sadness and make him the enemy. In my silence I would fail to communicate what I needed or wanted in order for repair to take place. Essentially, I would just shut down and shut Bryan out. But I know deep down that this isn’t what I truly want. I want my family. I want a good marriage. I want closeness and friendship. It just isn’t there right now. 

And that is ok. 

Wait, what?

How can it be ok? Doesn’t “ok” mean that I’m ok with it, that somehow it is acceptable and that I’m settling for less than what I believe marriage is supposed to be? Not unless I allow “ok” to mean that. 

When I say that my marriage is lacking in closeness and friendship right now and then I say, “that is ok,” here is what I’m actually saying:

It is ok to tell the truth. 

It is ok to be sad about the truth.

It is ok to pause and ask, “what now?”

It is ok to answer, “I don’t know.”

It is ok to cry and say, “this is hard.”

It is ok to do something different.

And the thing I am doing differently is a hard thing. I’m taking a time out on purpose, which is, to prevent myself from hurting Bryan and my marriage. I’m creating emotional distance—not to isolate myself or push my husband away—I’m giving myself a wide berth so that whatever I do next, I do with kindness and care and conviction. I’m not doing what I normally do, which is, mutually apologize and extend forgiveness and keep doing life as normal. I don’t want to go back to normal because the normal we were living is no longer our best.

If we kept doing life as normal I could sense in my gut that bitterness would grow and we would become the empty nesters who don’t like each other and I would choose divorce. I know myself well enough to know that we were going down that path. We could ignore the signs and pretend everything would all turn out fine in the end or we could choose a different path. 

I’m choosing a different path. 

And as I move in that direction I’m finding that I need some emotional and physical distance from my husband. I don’t know how long it will be for but probably a few weeks or months. When I look at him, I don’t see my friend. I don’t see someone who I want to get to know. But he isn’t a bad guy so this tells me that there is something inside of me that prevents me from seeing the good. It’s like the opposite of infatuating love, when you can see no flaw in your partner even though everyone else can. This is the flip side, where I see a flawed human being but I don’t see Bryan, my special, the one and only in all the world. 

I don’t have all of the answers for what comes next. But I am not afraid because I know that I have the most essential things for the journey ahead: Jesus will guide me, Bryan will meet me, joy will fuel me, gratitude will center me, and open hands will free me.