Am continually amazed at the aha moments that come with many years of knowledge & experience. It wasn't until the closing weeks of Mom's life that I learned the WHY behind the profoundly baffling way she approached life, a misconstrued understanding of a core principle of faith that had been hopelessly mangled in her mind. It was an essential piece of information finally shared because I'd gotten wise enough to ask a better question & Mom had gotten secure enough to let it register & answer. Some things take time & experience.
Nowhere is that more evident than in my marriage. It's a constant amazement how our relationship reveals new depths of wonder ~and~ moments of arrrrrgggggghhhhhh despair. And epiphanies.
Discovering that Mom believed that a tenet of her faith was that what we think in our heart of hearts is more important than what we ultimately DO was a major AH HA! It didn't erase decades of confusion, but it did explain them. Sure, it was tough going through all those times when Mom would look at me with confusion & hurt etched across her eyes because I just didn't get that while she'd acted unfairly -and- against reason, she done so while in complete agreement with what I'd advocated. To her, being in agreement countered the contrary action.
A similar moment came up just yesterday, with John. I've been increasingly frustrated that certain unintentionally hurtful or just really really irritating behaviors are just as likely to pop up now as they were 26 years ago, when first experienced. The epiphany came thanks to a cellophane-wrapped mint that John was about to unwrap during the musical prelude at a wedding.
I couldn't believe it. Unwrapping a cellophane-wrapped candy is, to me, the equivalent of raking fingernails across a chalkboard. And John knows that. But he wanted that mint & how the unwrapping might rankle me just wasn't on his radar.
Well, that tiny moment in time became a mega aha. Later, John fervently defended himself, pointing out all the times that he used to do it & reminding me that he rarely does it anymore. "You can't see how much I've improved."
With those few words, a big bright flashing light clicked on. A light I might not have been able to see even just a few years back, being so wrapped up in my aggravation. One he might not have thought to express just as he did. But there it was, along with sweet revelation.
I am not being snotty when say that change is just not up John's alley, that if he hasn't changed over 26 years of a great reason - loving me - ain't going to happen. That I've got to change my attitude about it, but the hits will keep on coming. It's not that he doesn't care, not that he doesn't really really really want to be different. He just doesn't get the process of change.
It turns out he genuinely doesn't. Just like my dear old mother couldn't fathom my despair when she'd believe one thing & do the opposite - "But I agree with you!" - John was continually distressed at my inability to see how much he'd improved. Where he once did something frequently, he now does it only rarely. He'd changed.
Sometimes it takes many years of experiencing things to realize what seems to be the root of a problem. To John, 80% improvement is change. And he is right - it is. And it is not what I mean when talking about changing. To me, change means no longer doing something. Ever. Because partial change means it can still happen, I just don't know when or where or how.
We would not have gotten to last night's epiphany without years of experience under our belt, without lots & lots & lots of learning new ideas & possibilities, of being open to discovering that what we'd always thought was one way might be a very different other.
John was right - he has changed. He doesn't unwrap cellophane-wrapped candies without first giving me a heads up. At least not always. Just sometimes. That is, I fully admit, change.
My definition of change is a little different. I've changed because I don't go to bed leaving dishes in the kitchen sink. Ever. I squeegee down the sides of the shower after using it. Always. That's change. I do a really good job of keeping the computer studio tidy, the floor clear of anything that shouldn't be there, books put back where they belong. I do that most of the time, but not always. That's improvement, not change.
If I was to give advice to the young friends who were married yesterday, I'd tell them that remaining open to seeking & hearing what each other speaks in & from the heart won't always make marriage an easy path, but that there is no path without it. That they will discover things - often big shocking "Are you kidding?" things - as years roll by, because they finally have enough life experience or fresh knowledge or new wisdom to safely see & handle gnarly issues, to encounter & face down daunting obstacles. That it's not about learning new things about our beloved that will make the biggest difference, but what new things insights awareness we glean about ourself. So keep looking, stay open, remain loving. Even when you throw in the occasional arrrgggghhhh.
It''s not that it sometimes takes many years for the magic to grow, deepen, become REAL. With relationships, count on ALWAYS!
Graphics:
all Mary Engelbreit
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