marriage is like walking a dog.

Let's pretend for a moment that I have the laziest dog in the world. I can, in good faith, strap a leash to his collar and drag him up the stairs, through the front door, and up and down the sidewalk for 2 hours a day.

But the thing is, if he never actually walks, if I have to keep literally dragging him everywhere, he'll never make any progress. I'm trying to help him. I want my puppy to be healthy and I know walking will make him happier. So I drag him around and around for his own good.

But the dog still has to walk.

I'm just holding the tether.

In marriage you have your own brain. You make the choice to grow. You make the choice to progress. You have to choose. And so do they.

I can guide my husband around a puddle, I can offer advice. Sometimes he will pull me faster than I planned on going. Sometimes he'll hold me back from acting too spontaneously. And ideally, I'll do the same for him when it's appropriate.

We have freedoms, ideas, dreams, and choices to be made as individuals. The leash is useless if we sit there and cry and pout while they drag us around the front yard. It just wears them out. Sure, my husband has to pull me around every once in a while; I'm not perfect. That's the luxury of a partnership. It just can't BE the entire partnership.

We cannot progress together, unless we also work as individuals.

I have to walk. He has to walk. We have to communicate which direction we want to head. If I suddenly switch directions and he isn't ready or okay with that, we could lose grasp of the leash. I have control only over my own actions. I have to be willing to move or we won't get anywhere. He only has control over his actions. He can try to drag me around, but eventually he'll exhaust all of his energy and we'll both be stuck.

Teamwork succeeds only when individual players are doing their best to win. Marriage isn't a safety net. It's not a backup plan or a horse-drawn carriage into the sunset.

It's promising simply that you'll stick together while you climb this mountain. So make the choice to actually climb. You'll have sore muscles, blisters, and bruises but you'll also see sunrise after sunrise of beauty and magic if you simply improve as individuals toward the same goal.

Be better. Try harder. Encourage your spouse, but remember you can't force them. They are who they choose to be. You can only choose to be better yourself.

around these parts.

you have to do the dishes. you can be happy about it or you can be a grump about it. but you still have to do them. you can keep mental tally marks of who does it more often, but that doesn't erase that they have to be washed.

you have to go to work. you can do it happily or you can leave with a frown. but you still have to go.

yes there are days when i choose to be selfish. i let the laundry pile higher for one extra day or i let dominos make dinner. but then there are days like today:

the power went out and school was cancelled, so we cuddled in bed until noon. and as my husband's cold nose brushed my cheek i thought about how lucky i am.

dishes and laundry and work will always be around. but few are the days of simplicity.

no worries or obligations. just the person you love sitting next to you as you sleepily whisper your dreams to one another and plan the future.

life's obligations are important. but your heart, it's also important.

sometimes you need a day, or a morning, away from distractions to re-align.

life shouldn't be about counting calories or to-do lists or calculating who is making a bigger effort. because even when technology and vehicles and warm showers are stripped away, there will still be people around you. you can be a good person to be around, or you can be exhausting. you can be pleasant or you can be a ticking bomb.

i made a great choice when i chose to marry nathan. but it's my job to make sure he feels that he made a good choice -- every day.

accountability keeps a marriage happy. blame shoves a marriage aside.

you can be the problem or you can prevent it.

and that is what i've learned.

...

gratitude.

Brené Brown is my soul sister.

She is well-known for a TED talk on vulnerability.

She was also on Super Soul Sunday with Oprah, where she reiterated a comment from one of her books that gratitude is the key to joy.

---

I have been single for the majority of my life. The longest relationship I had been in, lasted a month. And I enjoyed being single.

I say this to emphasize the fact that I'm not a relationship expert; I don't have experience or any sort of knowledge on what works for everyone.

But, I wanted to share something that has been on my mind a lot recently:

My relationship has been hard. Hard because I consistently fought it. I am extremely lucky to have a man who is patient and understanding, who is obsevant and  approachable, who communicates when I can't find the words.

I am regularly insecure and often feel inadequate. For me, it seems easier to be alone. It seems easier to deal with my problems and fears in private. It seems easier because it's what I'm used to. When I get stressed or worried, I isolate myself.

Being single was easier because I could be wherever, whenever. I could hibernate and wallow and stuff my face and no one knew or cared.

Now I have someone who notices and sees and wants to fix everything. Man, boys like to fix things. And letting someone help has been terrifying. Opening and releasing my innermost thoughts nearly chokes me.

Vulnerability is the key to love, because (at least for me) love comes from appreciation. And how can there be appreciation without service? How can there be service without needs? There can't.

And in order to see the need we have to observe. In order for others to observe our needs we must communicate them.

Being transparent is frightening. But feeling understood and accepted after opening? That is the most beautiful thing I've ever felt.

That, to me, is love. It's not a perfect first kiss or a fun date. It's not arm candy or consistent plans on a Friday night. Love isn't a full bank account or a ten-year plan.

Love, for me, is sacrifice. It's in the silence after all words are spoken. Love is in the metaphorical hug that can only be felt after you jump off a cliff into their arms.

And love isn't kept once you find it.

Love is work. I always thought it was a feeling, but it's an experience. A constant choice. A choice that I believe reaps everlasting joy.

Joy that is kept when we are continually grateful for what we have and simultaneously offering good things for our partners to be grateful for.

It is hard and uncertain and far-from controllable. But it is worth that jump. It's worth the tears and the sacrifice and the risk.

Most people mistake passion for love, but I think it is more of a silent, solid trust.

I'm grateful for the honest, loyal man I have found. And I thank God every day that I didn't settle for the freedom of spinsterhood or the fleeting fun of previous relationships.

My joy is full. I would've waited thirty more years to experience this.

Don't settle for a ring. Don't settle for butterflies. Don't settle for sarcasm or empty promises.

Hold out for the lung collapse of terror when you find someone you cannot live without. Fight for the real stuff. Don't stand in your own way.

The joy will be worth the wait.

the hardest thing to accept, the easiest to give away.

from the beginning, notes were my thing. sometimes i complimented his freckles. sometimes they were stuck to his back. sometimes they were hidden and sometimes they were hand delivered.

the first note he gave me was folded inside a birthday card. it was a letter, really.

he listed everything he liked about me. at the end of the list he wrote, "i guess i just took the long way to tell you that i love you."

those three words were supposed to be good news, but they stabbed me. because i couldn't say them back.

my whole life, love seemed like this euphoric, magical feeling where the heavens opened and you flew. maybe it is like that for some people.

when i read them i cried. in the following days, each time he'd say it it stung more. there was swearing and praying and even more tears.

because how could he love me.

for ten days he said those words. my silence didn't stop him. he loved me. he knew it. he didn't need to hide it or wait for the "right time."

he told me he wanted to marry me. that he would spend his life ensuring my happiness. that he couldn't promise a perfect future, but that he wanted me to be his, forever.

he said all these things even though i was silent.

part of me was scared to promise the same. part of me was scared i'd have to say it to someone else someday.

mostly i was unsure that what i was feeling was indeed love. but in those ten days i've learned that:

love is 90% being the right person,

10% finding the right person.

i learned that love is a choice. 

love isn't blind; i know his faults, i see his weaknesses. but i choose to look past them. i choose to help strengthen them.

love isn't on a time-table; it doesn't always come at first sight or hit you like a bus.

love is happiness. love is security. love is patience. love is practical and a bit reckless. love is full of possiblities. love is given and recieved.

it took me a while to accept love.

but once i accepted the word from that boy, it was the easiest word to give away.

like you.

if our babies are like you they'll be perfect.

wrinkled foreheads taking the whole world in.
fingers wrapped around mine, love growing with each second.
soft smiles that make my knee caps weak with joy.
poking and prodding me for attention.

if our home is like you i'll stay there forever.

established on solid ground, reaching toward heaven.
safe and offering protection from all of life's unknowns.
a few creaky floorboards that make being human beautiful.
picturesque but humble, quiet but inviting.

"The key to a successful relationship isn't just in the words, it's in the choice of punctuation. When you're in love with someone, a well-placed question mark can be the difference between bliss and disaster, and a deeply respected period or a cleverly inserted ellipsis can prevent all kinds of exclamations."
- David Levithan