Resplendent memories : A multitude of minutiae*
Marriage is not just about grand gestures-- exotic travels, celebrations of birthdays and anniversaries, gifts that take your breath away and going on adventures together. Although these are special moments that are very enjoyable, the majority of married life comprises of the mundane, the everyday. The minutiae of life. Living for the glorious moments and detesting the daily is like hating your week and living for the weekend-- neither signify a healthy life.
But in these minutiae arise differences. For how could they not? When you live with someone, you are living with a multitude of their quirks- some adorable, some normal and some downright annoying. And as different people who've lived different lives and had different experiences, we're bound to have different ideas, thoughts and opinions. How does one deal with this? How does one enjoy not just the glory of marriage but also the mundane? How does one reduce acrimony and instead live harmoniously? This article is to shed light on these questions, from my perspective.
We both hated chores. The only difference was the way we dealt with it. My policy was: Get it over with as soon as you can. His was: The sooner you do it, the sooner you have to again. Whenever I'd misplace something, I couldn't rest easy till I found it--it would incessantly nag me. He'd simply wave it away and say, Ah it has to be in the house. It'll turn up eventually, there's no point looking for it.
My laundry basket would almost always be gleaming empty, while his pile of clothes stood as tall as the Everest. The bed in the spare room was our common dumping ground, and all folded clothes would lie there, till we put them into our cupboards or sent them off to be ironed. Again, I'd do this the very day they dried up, while he'd leave them on the bed till there was no more space left. As a result, his clothes started invading my portion of the bed, and I'd inevitably end up not finding some article of clothing because it would be mixed up in his clothes. Everyday, I'd look at his clothes in vexation, but wouldn't put them in myself because that would just add to my chores, and I wanted him to do it punctually, which he wouldn't.
One morning, I was all ready to leave for work, and came in to look for a pair of socks. I found one, but the other was nowhere to be seen. And somehow, that single sock pushed me over the edge. I frantically searched for ten minutes, and I couldn't find it. This only increased my frenzy, and I called on my husband to help me find it. He'd just woken up, and was still groggily awaiting his daily coffee. He casually told me : It must be somewhere there. Just pick another for now, you're already getting late.
His casual nonchalance served as the fuel to the fire that was my compulsive anxiety. That's exactly my point. It has to be somewhere here. Where is it? Why can't I find it?
We went back and forth like this a minute, and then I had tears in my eyes. I had a meltdown over a missing sock, and my husband just couldn't comprehend it. But it's just a sock, he looked at me in disbelief. How could I make him see? It wasn't just a sock, it was so much more, it was a difference in mentality. We had different thresholds for chores. I always wanted to finish them as soon as possible, and he wanted to put them off. Every unfinished chore was like a constant interrupt in my head, and every day it would nag me. He on the other hand, occasionally remembered them and managed to somehow complete them at the very last moment. How could I explain to him how I felt? Every molehill of his was a mountain in my head. Was he wrong for thinking it a molehill or me for taking it to be a mountain? We were so radically different, and we lived together now.
What did we do, you ask? Worked our way to middle ground. We had a long conversation. The bed was divided into two halves, and we isolated our clothes. I stopped looking at his laundry basket, and he did his laundry more often than before. I did not care as much anymore, and he cared a little bit more than before. Whenever I search for anything, he steps in to help me before it turns into a bout of anxious frenzy. And I try not to obsess about where everything is, although I still find it very hard. But we've been successful in reaching an equilibrium.
Differences are inevitable. And there's no right or wrong, it's just two people who look at things differently. But what you need for a marriage to thrive is two people who believe in each other. People who are willing to change ever so slightly, if it brings the other person happiness. People who are willing to sit down and have a rational conversation about their differences instead of dismissing the other person's ideas or asking them to change entirely. This is the secret sauce to make the mundane more palatable, to appreciate each others' differences than quibble over them. If you have this, then marriage will be something that brings you joy everyday.
*Title credits: Husband-Amod Anandkumar
But in these minutiae arise differences. For how could they not? When you live with someone, you are living with a multitude of their quirks- some adorable, some normal and some downright annoying. And as different people who've lived different lives and had different experiences, we're bound to have different ideas, thoughts and opinions. How does one deal with this? How does one enjoy not just the glory of marriage but also the mundane? How does one reduce acrimony and instead live harmoniously? This article is to shed light on these questions, from my perspective.
We both hated chores. The only difference was the way we dealt with it. My policy was: Get it over with as soon as you can. His was: The sooner you do it, the sooner you have to again. Whenever I'd misplace something, I couldn't rest easy till I found it--it would incessantly nag me. He'd simply wave it away and say, Ah it has to be in the house. It'll turn up eventually, there's no point looking for it.
My laundry basket would almost always be gleaming empty, while his pile of clothes stood as tall as the Everest. The bed in the spare room was our common dumping ground, and all folded clothes would lie there, till we put them into our cupboards or sent them off to be ironed. Again, I'd do this the very day they dried up, while he'd leave them on the bed till there was no more space left. As a result, his clothes started invading my portion of the bed, and I'd inevitably end up not finding some article of clothing because it would be mixed up in his clothes. Everyday, I'd look at his clothes in vexation, but wouldn't put them in myself because that would just add to my chores, and I wanted him to do it punctually, which he wouldn't.
One morning, I was all ready to leave for work, and came in to look for a pair of socks. I found one, but the other was nowhere to be seen. And somehow, that single sock pushed me over the edge. I frantically searched for ten minutes, and I couldn't find it. This only increased my frenzy, and I called on my husband to help me find it. He'd just woken up, and was still groggily awaiting his daily coffee. He casually told me : It must be somewhere there. Just pick another for now, you're already getting late.
His casual nonchalance served as the fuel to the fire that was my compulsive anxiety. That's exactly my point. It has to be somewhere here. Where is it? Why can't I find it?
We went back and forth like this a minute, and then I had tears in my eyes. I had a meltdown over a missing sock, and my husband just couldn't comprehend it. But it's just a sock, he looked at me in disbelief. How could I make him see? It wasn't just a sock, it was so much more, it was a difference in mentality. We had different thresholds for chores. I always wanted to finish them as soon as possible, and he wanted to put them off. Every unfinished chore was like a constant interrupt in my head, and every day it would nag me. He on the other hand, occasionally remembered them and managed to somehow complete them at the very last moment. How could I explain to him how I felt? Every molehill of his was a mountain in my head. Was he wrong for thinking it a molehill or me for taking it to be a mountain? We were so radically different, and we lived together now.
What did we do, you ask? Worked our way to middle ground. We had a long conversation. The bed was divided into two halves, and we isolated our clothes. I stopped looking at his laundry basket, and he did his laundry more often than before. I did not care as much anymore, and he cared a little bit more than before. Whenever I search for anything, he steps in to help me before it turns into a bout of anxious frenzy. And I try not to obsess about where everything is, although I still find it very hard. But we've been successful in reaching an equilibrium.
Differences are inevitable. And there's no right or wrong, it's just two people who look at things differently. But what you need for a marriage to thrive is two people who believe in each other. People who are willing to change ever so slightly, if it brings the other person happiness. People who are willing to sit down and have a rational conversation about their differences instead of dismissing the other person's ideas or asking them to change entirely. This is the secret sauce to make the mundane more palatable, to appreciate each others' differences than quibble over them. If you have this, then marriage will be something that brings you joy everyday.
*Title credits: Husband-Amod Anandkumar
Wow. That's some lucid writing. As for the topic, yes, it's truly the minutiae that matters. And as regards to the differences, desire and willingness to make things work, along with cool, open and rational minds discussing stuff would iron things out. Contrary to what fairy tales imply, marriage is hard work.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading and for your generous words, Arun! Glad you agree. :)
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