We purchased a new home a few weeks ago. We spent the first few days of home ownership refinishing the kitchen cabinets. I worked on them during the day, and my husband James joined me in the evenings. When we finished, we got in our separate vehicles and drove the 15 minutes back to our temporary housing. Each evening I drove home alone. (Our three-year-old always wanted to ride with Daddy after spending the day with me … plus, James has a DVD player in his truck.)
I turned on the radio and let the tears fall. Life overwhelmed me – both the good and the hard – and I needed an emotional release. By the time we’d pull into the driveway my eyes would be dry. I’d be ready to face the rest of the evening, never thinking to mention my little outbursts to anyone.
I love my husband very much. I can tell him anything. But I don’t tell him everything.Click To Tweet
If you knew me 10 years ago, you knew how unlikely it was that I could/would keep anything completely to myself. I’m a natural blabbermouth and shared life with a trio of roommates. We’d often spend hours sitting on the floor of the hallway between our rooms talking about faith, jobs, boys and everything in between.
When I married, I discovered my husband *gasp* didn’t like talking nearly as much as I did. He listened contently to anything and everything I’d say. But he didn’t have as much to share back as my girlfriends had.
Then we became parents and our conversations were dominated by topics like breastfeeding, infant sleeping (or lack thereof) patterns and matters of diaper changing. It was a riveting discussion time in our marriage. *wink*
When our daughter turned a little over a year old, I left the workplace to stay home full-time with her. And each weekday quickly began to look very similar to every other weekday. When James arrived home I’d show him any projects we’d worked on or expound on any adventures we had pursued that day (like going to the zoo or walking to the park). I’d try to remember any special things our daughter said or did to share with him. Honestly, my brain just isn’t the steel trap it had been prior to becoming a mom and, I rarely remembered much to share.
“A happy marriage is a long conversation which always seems too short.” (Andre Maurois)
And now, while I sometimes miss the hours-long gab fests with my roommates, I treasure some of the thoughts and moments alone. I’m learning the joy of processing individually and with God. Sometimes without (or at least before) talking it through with James or friends. It may have seemed a big deal to cry multiple nights in a row driving home 10 years ago, but today the tears alone offered a wave of healing and grace that needed no further conversation.
Because while I love my husband and share anything with him, I don’t need to tell him everything. Instead I share the big stuff, the important stuff and whatever fun, random little stuff suits my fancy. And sometimes I cry in my car, and he only learns of it when I blog about it later.
And don’t worry, I still get my occasional hours-long blab fests. They are called road trips! And I look forward to quite a few this summer!
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