Friday, May 18, 2012

An Old-Fashioned Bipolar Thanksgiving and other random thoughts... (Thanksgiving 2009)

Well, Folks, I had a good old-fashioned bipolar thanksgiving. A good portion of laughter with a side order of crazy crying and hiding in my room. We all survived and even managed to enjoy each other a great deal between episodes. Don’t panic, I’m fine, I just didn’t manage my sleep very well and it came back to bite me in the buttered rolls. I’m still not quite back on schedule. As I type it’s pitch black outside our 2nd story window, but I’m looking forward to a relaxing Sunday ahead.

Speaking of Sundays, 2 weeks ago I went to my friends house to do some communal crafting. We (my husband and I) are currently in a new form of self-denial wherein our budget is under strict control. This self-imposed torture necessitates some very creative thinking for holiday gifts. I’m making various complicated items involving feathers and sparkly things. I’m a social liver (not the organ, the verb). So I usually try to find another human to involve in as many activities as possible. I drove to the other side of town where my buddy was making crafts out of boiled sweaters (don’t mock, they’re adorable). We spent 2 hours together and I, being myself, talked pretty much the entire time. My crafty friend listened and loaned me her scissors, and was extremely sympathetic. You see, my 2 hour diatribe expressed my continual confusion and frustration with being a good, mature wife. For those of you’ve who’ve read my 3 previous blogs, I’m sure you’re noticing a theme.

I’ve always wanted to be married. I grew up the only daughter of a pastor and a musician. This meant I’d been to approximately 3 billion weddings by the time I was 12. The first and only item I ever stole was a white lace Barbie wedding gown (no, I’m not kidding, my mom made me take It back and say I was sorry to the sales lady, I cried a lot). There has never been a time in my memory when I didn’t picture myself as the other half of Mr. Right. I’m a hopelessly-hopeful romantic.

After 5 grueling years of dating various Mr. Wrongs and Mr. Almosts, and Mr. Boy-that-was-a-close-call-s, I finally found Cory. He loved me and told me I could eat anything I wanted, and shaved my head, and let me wear combat boots with my entire wardrobe, and held me when I cried, and helped me remember to take my medication and listened to me talk incessantly, and followed me around to various attempts at Christian Rockstar-dom, and still managed to make me believe that he was enjoying all of this.

We got married on an Island at Sunrise one July morning, and I had the luxury of feeling absolutely confident that I had made the right decision. Now, 9 years later, I’m still sure that there is no man out in the world who would be better for me or treat me better than Cory David Wetterlin. The only persistent problem is that I really seem to wish I hadn’t married a man, a really truly Human man.
I think I want a robot, or an angel, or maybe something with a remote control. Don’t get me wrong, Cory’s a great guy, he’s just soooo homo-sapien. You know the type-sometimes makes mistakes, occasionally falls short of my expectations, prone to imperfection. I’m sure you won’t believe this but Cory is Completely incapable of reading my mind!!! Is this behavior to be tolerated? Well, if I ask Jesus, he seems to say yes. He tells me that the fruits of the Spirit are Love, joy, peace, patience, and self –control. He says that love is about giving of my self and serving, not about getting everything I want. He says that if I want to be first I need to be last, and I have to turn the other cheek, and basically put my life on the altar of sacrifice as an offering to Him. I don’t understand how to balance absolute unselfishness with human marriage. It seems impossible, impractical.

So as my friend arranges her woolen masterpieces she listens quietly. I pack up my crafts and she prays with me and we both go our separate ways. I’ve driven about 5 miles when I get a call from her on my cell. “So, Laura, I’ve been thinking and praying about your problems with Cory and I felt like God wanted me to tell you something. I think you need to try not saying anything negative to your husband for the next two weeks. I tried it once, and it totally changed the way I looked at my spouse. Just a suggestion.” I’m embarrassed to tell You, dear reader, that in the last year I’ve had no less then four people suggest this same basic concept to me. I’ve ignored them all. Somehow wool-girl was the voice that finally got through.

So the last 2 weeks have been an exercise in holding my tongue and taming my temper. It hasn’t been easy, but somehow in trying to control Cory less, I’ve felt more in control of myself. I can’t really explain it, I guess it’s a kind of relief to let go of the struggle of trying to make him exactly who I want him to be. I’ve actually enjoyed reminding us both of Cory’s many talents and strengths. I feel….better. I’ve been dared to love unselfishly, and I’m beginning to see the freedom in it. I’m not sure where this will lead, or how I’ll do next week, but for now I’m pleasantly surprised and hopeful. God is Good, and Cory is truly an incredible person.

I guess I’m getting better at this already…..

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