Miles and smiles: Musings on half a decade of married life

 This is a rather late post (my 5th wedding anniversary was on Feb 7), but better late than never, right? I write this as I reflect on the past five years and how my marriage has evolved over this period. There was so much that I could talk about, and I wasn't sure what to focus on. So I asked myself this: What is the most important and meaningful thing that marriage has given me? And to my surprise, the answer was this. Me. More precisely, a new and improved me. Before you conclude that I've lost my marbles, let me explain.

6 years ago, in 2018, I was just finishing my Masters and starting a new job. It was then that I met my to-be husband. In our very first meeting, I felt that he was a very cheerful, positive and grounding presence. As someone who was very influenced by the energy of people around me, I realized that it was very important to surround myself with uplifting people. And so, I went with my instincts and decided that he was exactly what I needed in a partner. Six months later, we were married. Gradually, I started trusting him and opening up to him. I told him about my inner worlds - my thoughts, my dreams, my fears. My anger, shame and guilt.

In this process, I discovered so much about myself that I had never been consciously known or acknowledged. I realized how critical and harsh I was on myself. How little I trusted in my abilities. How much I loathed my so-called "faults." How I cringed at every mistake. And so, in the very first year of marriage, I discovered that I actively disliked myself to a great extent, and the mental chatter that went on in my head was quite negative. At the time, I didn't even think about changing this.

But my husband, who understood all of this quite well, showed me what it could look like to be the opposite. He was always kind to me. He never criticized me or mocked my mistakes. He told me how much he believed in me time and again. I noticed that around him, I felt special. I felt this happiness and peace. The chatter in my head quieted down. I basked in this warmth, and I could never get enough of it.

Soon, I started noticing some real changes. I aspired for bigger things. I was no longer afraid to dream big, or try new things. I quit my job and applied to a PhD program, a dream I'd cherished from school but never dared pursue. I found the time to learn music seriously, and went to classes for vocal and keyboard. I tried out things that I'd never done due to fear of failure. I got into a swimming pool even though I had no idea how to swim. I played badminton even though I knew "I sucked" at it. I cared for two dozen flowering plants even though deep down, I felt I could not remember to water them steadily. Each time I did one of these things, I still heard the voices in my head. Voices from the past, now mingled with my own. Your singing voice is too squeaky. Look at you walking in the pool! Who walks in a pool? That poor rose plant is going to die for sure.

When my husband was around, I would actually tell him how I felt, and he would reassure me to the contrary. Looking at myself through his eyes was so beautiful. I felt better, but the relief was temporary. When he wasn't around, the voices went on incessantly. I felt his absence so much, because not only did I miss him, but I missed me. I missed the me that was happy and peaceful and felt worth something. Gradually, I started wondering: When did I start hating myself so much? I remember being a happy child. I don't remember feeling inadequate or afraid. How did I get from there to here?

Then COVID happened, along with the initial years of my PhD. My life was such a struggle, and the feelings of inadequacy and anxiety only increased. A year later, my father had a stroke, and I almost lost the will to live. I didn't have the energy to go on living this life. I trudged through the days. Sometimes moping, sometimes wailing, but never happy. After that, I felt like something was seriously wrong with me. I dragged myself to therapy. After a while, I came back to these same feelings. Guilt, inadequacy, self-loathing. Paranoid about mistakes and failures. But it didn't have to be like this, my therapist said. You can have a better relationship with yourself.

Except I didn't know how. These behaviors were ingrained in me, and changing them seemed impossible. What if I could see myself the way my husband saw me? Even when he wasn't around, even when I was alone. Then I'd never feel this way. Ever again. I tried to remember all the good things he'd told me, and repeated them over and over again. Every time I hated myself. Every time I felt I was not enough. After a long time, I felt the changes. The anxiety was not as strong. I was able to reason with the guilt. The biggest win was this: When someone else said something that earlier used to trigger my negative thoughts, I didn't feel as affected. It was not a straightforward path, nothing in life seldom is. Many times, I've felt my old patterns return. But after a bad day a week or a month, I would return to focusing on the good. Being around my husband made this so easy. He always had nice things to say to me, and he believed that I was amazing, even on my worst days.

After a long time, I can honestly say that I don't hate myself anymore. I am not as scared of the world, and I am curious and open to new experiences. I am happy to try things even if I fail miserably at them. I am able to look at myself critically without feeling worthless afterward. And every day that I wake up alone, I feel less alone. I have me. Always and forever. This is something that no one can take away from me, and it is so very precious to me. I feel so grateful to have been on this journey, and gotten here. And that, Dear Reader, is what I think of as marraige's greatest gift to me.