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My husband and I are still considered newlyweds by all means, having only been married a little over a year. Yet, our wisdom exceeds expectations because we were flooded with lessons as soon as we exchanged bands and jumped the broom.
Soon after the nuptials, I learned that when you marry someone, you marry EVERYTHING that comes along with them. This includes their baggage from previous relationships, (this could be a 5 piece luggage set with a diarrhetic, carry-on pet and a large weathered trunk plastered with peeling stickers to represent their former mates), their potential to be anal, (the towels must be folded vertically once, then in thirds with the matching washcloth tucked in the middle and sorted by style and color), or their disgusting habits like leaving used contact lenses around the house so it looks like cartoon eyes are always watching you!! "It always feels like, somebody's watching me...." Grosssssss! (Sorry, personal gripe)
Yes, all of those idiosyncrasies are standing at the altar along with you, adorned in veils and tails when you say, "I do." The greatest factor (and by greatest, I do mean most impactful, not most wonderful), however, would have to be...The Family. Dun dun dun dun (Un)Fortunately, you do marry each other's families. Who knew there would be a plus one...thousand?!
There was no ominous warning before we fell in love to show that once engaged, some of our future in-laws, had the potential to mutate; almost like those sci-fi movies where the pseudo-humans peel back their layers to reveal the flesh eating locusts that lie beneath.
When I first met his nucleus, they were engaging and embracive, warm, fun-loving, and kind. They seemed sincerely supportive of our relationship; so much so that I boasted about having a wonderful, non-stereotypical relationship with my future in-laws. But, Disney movies are fairy tales written by the naive and lonely and sometimes terror wears a dress.
Honestly, had I known about the magnitude of the challenge and stress that was headed my way before I fell in love, I probably would've run barefoot and naked to the highest hill to jump off the ledge onto a blanket of thorns and broken glass instead of inviting it into my life. (Yeah, it was that bad.) And, I'm sure my husband would've plunged with me had he known about the archaic traditions that were in store for him.
But, love didn't give us a choice. Somehow, those factors were masked. Perhaps, we were so enamored with each other that it clouded our perceptions with rose colored beer goggles. Or, perhaps we thought our love could conquer it all and that our families would have no bearing on us; oh, to be a fool in love. There's certainly no logic in it.
Fortunately for us both though, there are bright spots of personal growth in adopting our respective families. I've learned to be far more accepting and forgiving...of myself, and consequently of others as well. He's learned to be more patient and tactful. We've both learned that to love each other is to love everything and everyone that had a hand in creating who we are; as trying as that can be at times.
Despite it all, because we're not only committed to each other, but committed to the marriage (which comes with moms), we have to find a way to sift through their chaos to find our balance. That can only be done one day of acceptance and forgiveness at a time. Now, if we could just agree on flushing those animated eyes, we could really work on not allowing the family matters to matter so much.
