When I was about 7 years old, my parents split up. They married much too young (she was 16, he was 17). As if that wasn’t bad enough, my dad fancied himself as some sort of Don Juan. Throw in a domineering mother-in-law (my dad’s mum) and a very dysfunctional family (mum’s), and I guess you could say that they had all the odds against them right from the start.
Growing up, I understood that this was the way things were. I grew up as well-adjusted as I could possibly be, considering the circumstances, and never let it bother me. I never expected, therefore, that this would haunt me someday.
I am afraid of a lot of things, but one thing I’ve found that I’m afraid of most is ending up with a failed marriage like my parents. The Hub and I are both headstrong, opinionated, and stubborn, and neither of us are pushovers. As a result, our fights – and there are plenty – tend to be extremely heated and sometimes quite ugly. I hate it, and I know he does, too. But when you both think – no, believe – that you are right and the other is wrong, it becomes a seemingly endless cycle of hurts and tears and unkind words. Rational thought flies out the window, red is all one sees, and we’re left with anger – uncontrollable, burning, and frightening anger.
Because of this, I find myself afraid. Afraid that our marriage is just going to topple over without warning like one of those cardboard displays left outside to face the unforgiving elements for far too long. Afraid that we’ll go too far and say too much that we will get to a point where there will be no turning back. Afraid that the next fight will be another fight too many. And most of all, afraid that no amount of love and kisses and gargantuan efforts to be better people will ever be enough to fix whatever flaw we might have that made us like this.
I want our marriage to work more than anything else in the world. I don’t ever want to give up like my parents before me and every other couple in the world who has. But how does one fight one’s self when one loses control?
