The Internet is marvelous. Writing has always been risky business, but now we have the ability to open a vein and let it bleed in front of the whole world instantly, with no chance to to clean up our mess after we hit submit.
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Marriage.
I have no peer-reviewed journals to quote, nor even a case study, so pardon me for speaking on this subject with so little authority.
In the general world of information I have absorbed in just 8 days short of 25 years, it seems to me that those who grow up under a bad marriage are often some of the most eager to enter into such a covenant of their own, and sadly so much of the time continue the tradition of their ancestors. Perhaps on one level they see the lack of fulfillment in the lives of their parents, and their whole being becomes bent on finding it for themselves. They swear this time things can be different for them, they
will be different. They truly love their spouse, and their spouse truly loves them. Then somewhere along the way, something goes wrong, and they begin to empathize with their parents; a posture they never imagined they would take.
With such an insurmountable pile of evidence in front of them, you'd think they'd all be terrified, rather than anxious to plunge in at the first available opportunity.
There are many people on the planet who have experienced far worse than I have, but with just the tension I have been witness to in my own household, I'm frightened. The very idea of being married to anyone is almost enough to make me want to hide like a child. I don't care what's happening, if the subject is brought up, my mood darkens. I become prickly. That, my friends, is saying something, as I'm a rather prickly person when even in the best of moods.
That prickliness is precisely why I'm so uncomfortable with the idea of being married. It doesn't take much reading of this blog, or much time with me in person, to know I'm introverted. Introversion at its most basic level means being with people drains the introverted one, and conversely being alone is a source of recharging. My leanings are much more chronic than that, and at this point in my life, I want nothing more than to be alone. I love people. I really, really do. I even have pleasant, dare I say wonderful, experiences with people on a regular basis. Yet, even in the middle of those wonderful experiences, I can't say that I wouldn't rather be by myself. Or to dare put it more bluntly without the heavy veil of a double negative, I can say I would rather be alone. Always.
Marriage means 'one flesh.' I'm not even comfortable breathing the same air as someone for too long, how am I supposed to deal with someone being a part of me and myself a part of them? Always? The distress that would bring me is enough to make my self-centered insides pause for at least a moment, but more than that, if I know myself half as well as I think I do, it wouldn't take much for me to start resenting my husband. Even if he doesn't do anything, just by existing. I don't want to resent someone for existing, least of all the person I'm married to. And regardless of what I do or don't want to do, how is that fair?
In this whole frightening situation, added to the aforementioned severe inward leanings is an extreme dislike of conflict. I diffuse it by default. I don't even realize I'm doing it most of the time until it's already done. While I do think that's good in many cases, I do realize how quickly my husband and I would never get anywhere because I don't give us the chance for resolution. "If it's going to cause this much distress, let's forget about it" is my motto. It works like a charm until the charm wears off.
I live in a small house with four other people, two I've been with my whole life, one who's been around for 23 years, and the last whom I've been with for almost 15 years. I'm familiar with sharing space, and possessions, and time, and air. But no one has access to my innermost thoughts and feelings, the exact center of who I am. And I still make my own decisions. I'm still autonomous.
Or am I?
I depend on someone else for the roof above and walls around me. I can't do nearly as much as I imagine I'd like to do because I have to consider those four people at all times. And when I make large life decisions, my first thought after conception of an idea is "What does my family have to say about this?"
Perhaps I've fooled myself into thinking I'm independent. Maybe if I realized I'm already much more attached than I let myself believe, I'd realize the thing I'm really afraid of is something else. I'm afraid of both what I've seen and what I haven't.
