I have been with my husband for nine years and married for six of them.
So I am no expert. Although we are closer than ever, weare still learning, growing, and navigating the waters of marriage.
Last year I wrote a few posts about how my addiction affected my relationship with my husband and how he dealt with some of the circumstances that I created and issues that I brought into our relationship. (If you are interested, you can read them here: https://discoveringbeautiful.com/husband-thoughts-part-1-the-realization/ )
By the time we got engaged and were married, I had been in Recovery for a while.
My moods were finally evening out, I started sleeping at night a lot more, and we finally had time to really focus on one another as a whole couple, and not as one person desperately trying to tolerate, babysit, and save the other.
In other words, we had a pretty solid, healthy relationship.
The photo above was taken in my kitchen. My two oldest boys were hanging out in the kitchen having play-doh wars with little people that they created. I heard my six-year-old holler at me from the kitchen:
“Look mommy, I made a perfect man!”
My husband and I have not been arguing or going through anything recently.
However, this past year I have been tested on what it really means to forgive, heal, and move on.
I have certain days where out of the blue, I have to fight off feelings of anger that creeps in from out of no where.
I have to remind myself that forgiveness is a choice and It is beneficial for both of us.
It is not something that is earned or begged for, it is offered as a gift because of love.
It is a proclamation of peace made by you and is a declaration of your personal acceptance that the situation happened.
You proclaim that you are not a victim, you are not in the dark, you are not fighting anymore.
You are accepting what is for what it is, and you are declaring that you are allowing the healing process to do its thing.
No more going over it repeatedly.
No more rehashing.
No more of me giving in to temptation by drowning him in my witty, sarcastic, or funny references that directly tie into the situation that has been shelved.
So that afternoon when the play-doh playing was happening, maybe I just needed to see the cookie cutter.
Maybe I just needed to hear that little voice tell me that he had in fact, created the ‘perfect man’.
The one that we all know doesn’t exist.
Because that day it hit me like a ton of bricks.
I don’t want a perfect, cookie-cutter man.
If they did exist, I wouldn’t want one.
I like the one that God has placed in my life, for me.
I am not perfect, but in his eyes I am perfect for him.
He is not perfect but in my heart I feel that he is most definitely perfect for me.
That is what counts.