We weren't new to marriage, and we certainly weren't new to partnership, but without warning, we were new to the struggle. Looking around, it was clear that no one talks about that part. Marriages appear to fit in two categories - lovely or miserable, and we had no idea where to go when our good marriage faltered. Instinctively, we retreated, and we faked it - at family functions and with friends; we faked it all so hard without anyone suspecting we were drowning. Retreating felt natural, but at the risk of imploding, I reached out to my family and oldest friends and was reminded why we nurture these relationships that span hundreds, even thousands, of miles: these are the people who knew us when. These are the people who love John and me equally and will champion our marriage, and when shit hits the fan, that's what you need - a community of people to circle around you, lift you up, and cheer you on. People who will remind you of your greatest strengths but aren't afraid to call you on your weaknesses. We needed our little village to remind us it's all a choice.
Loyalty runs deep in both our bloodlines, and our love for each other runs even deeper, so John and I made a conscious choice to work on our marriage, work on ourselves, and make our family a priority. In the last year, there have been countless tough conversations, but we committed to progress. My sweet dad called me almost daily urging us to keep moving forward because while it's inevitably easier to burn a bridge than to cross it, the reward will never be as sweet. Those words resonated and will live in my heart always. John and I didn't cross our bridge at the same time, but the reward is we both made it across. I hope our marriage is forever changed because of this storm we weathered. Today we celebrate seven years, but more importantly, we're celebrating the new life that we've breathed into our marriage and the village that helped us get here.
