FRIENDS WITH EFFORT

Intentional efforts in any relationship was something I was greatly unfamiliar with. Every friendship I fostered, both male and female had always been effortless.

The first four months of my marriage I forfeited due to the comparisons. I singlehandedly robbed us of our honeymoon phase because I believed that friendship could only come in one form, easy. I measured the authenticity of who we were by the standards of my previous relationships.

Naturally, Rico and I are very different. While I am a woman that has never had a shortage of words. Rico is a man who chooses his wisely. I’m often conflicted between Jesus and Trap, he’s the human Shazam for your favorite baptist spirituals.

I punished him for being himself. I punished us because this was a friend I had to actually learn. The survival of this friendship required being intentional. I didn’t have the luxury of having the “what’s understood doesn’t need to be explained” mentality. Assumptions would have driven and killed our relationship.

My dad one day shared with me “what you feast your eyes on, you will soon gravitate to”. My eyes were steadfast on everything I disliked about him, me and us. And it was true, those things became like a magnetic force. The things I wasn’t even looking for, began to look for me. If we had any chance of making it our first year my eyes needed a new focus and it needed to be him.

I had to neglect this code of effortlessness I swore by and simply become a student. I needed to feast my eyes on the things that I loved and appreciated about him because those things were true. Regardless of how I felt, how he made me feel or what I lacked in feelings; I couldn’t discredit who he was or what we had because it was different. Not bad. Just different.

So I started. Every day. I texted him one thing I appreciated about him and one thing I liked. Some days it was deep and other days I struggled to find something cause he had made me mad. But those things became my target. While I was looking for perhaps a change in Rico, I immediately begin to see a change in me. I found myself just really liking dude and developing the tools I needed to foster this relationship, patience.

It’s a shame to think of what I could have jeopardized if I continued to allow familiarity to dictate my judgment. It goes to show, how it’s been doesn’t have to be what it is.

Here’s to kissing “how I think it’s s’pose to be” goodbye!

Kissing My Miss Goodbye

“Beyond the adjustment of being married, I had difficulty trying to intertwine who I was with who I was becoming. Subconsciously I was attempting to navigate being married without dying to myself.” 

I wish I could say that “now you may kiss the bride” is the moment I went from Miss to Mrs. I mean, yes legally I did. However, I have learned quickly that marriage isn’t some fairy dust that turns you into something that you are not already or willing to be.

I guess I always knew that I was wifey material. But I thought being a wife was a role that I would take on once I was little older and a little broken by life. I was much obliged by the idea of being someone’s fine auntie that wore fur coats in the summer and had a long distance boyfriend. I was much more interested in companionship than commitment.

So when I got married it took everyone by surprise. Including me. Something that I knew one day would happen, was happening sooner than I thought. I was more taken back by the peace I felt as I was prepping to embark on the biggest faith decision I have ever made.

A little about my mmaannnz and I. We never dated. We just married. Granted we were friends for five years. I could honestly say that I spent more of that time friend zoning him. Oops! Although we made the decision to marry one another, it almost felt like it was arranged. Our marriage was a strategic decision inspired by the peace of God. We knew enough going in (i.e. financial stability, religious beliefs, family history, life goals and aspirations), but not a lot compared to other relationships. We were not influenced by craze butterflies in the pit of our stomach or false social media depictions of #RelationshipGoals. Just a… “We’re going to get married” and an “okay”, followed by a ten minute drive to the nearest Jared. About a month later we hi-jacked my parent’s church service with an impromptu wedding. And boom! We’re married.

It humors me to reflect on the thought that I wasn’t broken. And how I potentially needed more time to become broken. Marriage has revealed how broken I was really was, or am. For the first time I’d been exposed. And this time, there was no running.

Marriage for me has been more humiliating than I thought and has left me vulnerable. Our first five months I toyed with the thought of if I wanted to stay or not. Beyond the adjustment of simply being married, I had difficulty trying to intertwine who I was with who I was becoming. Subconsciously I was attempting to navigate being married without dying to myself. I came to a harsh reality that I could not and that I had to choose.

I wish I could say that “now you may kiss the bride” is the moment I went from Miss to Mrs. I mean, yeah! Legally I did. But the lifting of my Vera Wang cathedral veil was just the first kiss to kissing my miss (and some other stuff) goodbye!

P.S.
Dying to yourself is a *BEEP*