39. On partnership
More nostalgic reflections on the eve of an anniversary, plus why we should all aspire to be plain-tailed wrens
Summer is bursting with milestones and anniversaries. They ripen on the vine, each asking to be admired and picked and celebrated. My birthday was a couple of weeks ago (I turned 35 which felt significant, read more about it here). This week marks our fourth wedding anniversary. In a few weeks will be my husband’s birthday, the anniversary of when I quit my job, and the anniversary of when I started this Substack.
Having so many memorable moments stacked together adds a reflective tone to the season. I find myself constantly thinking back on last summer, scrolling through old photos on my phone, and studying them for signs of growth, like those old “Spot the Difference” challenges in the back of Highlights magazine at the dentist’s office. Do I look older? Wiser? Less depressed? Anything I can point to with certainty and say, “Look! See, I am different!”
Our wedding anniversary is a funny one. My husband (he gave me permission to use his name - Sam) and I have been together since 2011, and a few years into the relationship we agreed that Labor Day would be the perfect weekend to get married. Unfortunately for us, we chose Labor Day 2020. As Covid cases ticked up, our well laid plans for a big outdoor wedding slowly began to crumble. Finally, the day came when we had to call time of death on our pending nuptials. I mourned the loss heavily, I’m the kind of girl who’s been dreaming of her wedding her whole life, but ultimately, we decided to move forward with a small Covid-friendly ceremony at the local courthouse.
On September 4th, 2020 we were married on the sprawling green lawn, under a less-than-aesthetic plastic tent. I wore a pale lavender silk face mask that I had deemed “bridal-worthy,” the officiant asked us to use hand sanitizer before signing the marriage certificate, and our immediate family watched from a more-than-6-feet distance across the street. Although part of me felt disappointed and sad that the day looked nothing like I’d imagined (Masks! In the wedding photos! The horror!), a larger part of me was glad to finally be married to my husband. A year later, once everyone was safely vaccinated, we threw a big wedding with all of our friends and family and danced the night away, just like I had dreamed. In the end, it made that celebration all the sweeter (and less stressful, we were already married!), and gave us two dates to commemorate. We now jokingly refer to one as “the marriage” and the other as “the wedding.”
In sticking to the theme of growth, this past year has forced our marriage to change and adapt in ways neither of us saw coming. When I experienced my mental health breakdown and quit my job last summer, it impacted not only me, but most of my relationships. Especially my most intimate relationship, my marriage.
One of the biggest things Sam and I have learned over the past year is how to partner through different seasons of life. Like anything, partnerships ebb and flow. There are highs and lows, times when one partner may need to step back in order to create the space for the other partner to step up. Times when one partner is earning more money than the other. Times when one partner needs more rest than the other. Times when one partner needs the freedom to explore their passions or interests. Times when one partner needs more emotional support. This dynamic is fluid, ever-changing. It takes constant adjustment and readjustment (and readjustment...and readjustment...) to ride the waves together.
We like to think of partnership in terms of “balance” which brings to mind the image of scales, but in reality, the scales are hardly ever perfectly “balanced.” They usually lean one way or another. In fact, “balance” shouldn’t really ever be the end goal, as idealistic and untenable as it is.
For Sam and I, the change was significant. For much of our relationship he had been working his way through medical school and residency, taking on a fair amount of debt along the way. I, on the other hand, was steadily working my way up the corporate ladder, growing my confidence along with my savings account. Then, I quit my job at nearly the same time Sam started his full-time work as a physician. The scales tipped seemingly overnight. Now he was working long(er) hours, supporting us financially, while I suddenly had ample free time to grocery shop and cook dinner (something I hadn’t done the first 12 years we’d been together!). The adjustment period was long and uncomfortable as we both tried to navigate our new roles in the partnership. Truth be told, we’re still adjusting a year later.
You could also liken it to taking turns. Sharing and learning to take turns is one of the more complex social skills to develop; it starts in early childhood, as young as two years old. Sam is a twin so I have a feeling he may have a leg up here, as he’s effectively been sharing ever since he was in the womb. Case in point, he’s deeply annoyed by people who don’t want to share dishes when we go out to dinner (rude!).
Over the past few years, I’ve observed my friends parenting their little ones on how to share and take turns. It usually involves lots of positive reinforcement and encouragement: “Can you share the toy with Lyla?” “How about you get two more minutes with the toy and then we let Lyla have a turn?” “How about you let Lyla play with the doll now and she’ll let you play with the truck?” “That’s such nice sharing, thank you.” Part of me wishes I had some omnipresent figure coaching me through it now: “How about you let Sam pick the restaurant?” “How about you cook dinner tonight so Sam can catch up on work?” “How about you spend Christmas with Sam’s family this year?” And sure, I’d like a pat on the back or a lollipop when I do a good job.
One of the biggest things kids learn by sharing is empathy. The idea that another person is entirely separate from you and that they have their own wants, needs and emotions. Pretty mind-blowing stuff for a toddler. And yet even for some adults (myself included) this isn’t always easy to practice. When I started experiencing anxiety for the first time last year it gave me an entirely new perspective on how so many family members and friends struggle. I had a vague understanding of it (yeah, your chest is tight, sounds tough) but it was much harder to empathize until I had gone through it myself. It’s still difficult to fully understand another person’s emotional state or individual experience, but empathy opens up the space for more compassion. Partnership often asks us to not only empathize with another person, but then to set aside our own wants and needs in order to support them in “taking their turn.”
The plain-tailed wren (Pheugopedius euophrys) is an expert at taking turns. These little cuties live in the Andes and sing duets in which the females and males alternate so rapidly it sounds as if only one bird is singing. A recent study found that when their partner is singing, part of the bird’s brain actually shuts down so that they can’t interrupt and sing over their partner. (I’m grossly oversimplifying, but you can read the summary article here). Their brains are in fact designed to let them take turns! Having binged all four seasons of Couples Therapy by now I can only imagine a world in which partners couldn’t interrupt and talk over each other (although Orna does a spectacular job in managing it).
Since our brains aren’t programmed this way (although if you're also obsessed with improv partner dancing, like the video below, it’s easy to believe that there is some psychological linking happening), the last thing that taking turns requires is trust. Trust that when it’s your turn, your partner will step back and let you have your moment in the sun. Knowing that the tides will change again, that the hand of fate will once more tilt the scales, that the dynamic will shift, the roles will transform and the partnership will continue to evolve. “Couples who grow together, stay together” right?
To that end, take all of this with a grain of salt. While four years married is a noteworthy milestone, I know we still have a lot to learn. Some parts of our life feel more settled than they did a year ago, other parts are very much up in the air. At times our partnership is messy and unbalanced, but it’s ours.
For now, Sam will just have to put up with my less-than-stellar singing skills when belting songs in the car at full volume despite my obvious tone-deafness. This is what being married to a Leo/ENTJ/Enneagram 3 looks like!
Until next time, thank you for being here.
P.S. For further reading listening I highly recommend this podcast episode on how to balance inequality in partnership from my favorites at We Can Do Hard Things.
P.P.S. If you enjoyed this you might also like:
From one Covid bride to another, I see you 🤍 I also love what you illustrate here about partnership, how it's a matter of sharing and trusting. There's a great Brené Brown video where she talks about how marriage is never 50/50, it's just a matter of checking in with each other and balancing as best you can.
Happy anniversary fam! Forever special to have both a wedding AND a marriage to celebrate! And Lyla is honored to make the story ;)