I often reflect on my upbringing and how it shaped my views on marriage. My parents’ divorce instilled in me the belief that with enough effort, any marriage could succeed. I witnessed their tumultuous attempts to stay together; the cycle of apologies, reconciliations, and temporary peace followed by turmoil was a constant. They would plan special dates, buy flowers, and emphasize the importance of hard work and forgiveness in marriage. This pattern seemed endless.
Eventually, however, it came to a halt. Their relentless efforts led to a failure I knew I had to avoid in my own marriage. I believed that I needed to exert even more effort. For years, I dedicated myself to the role of a perfect wife. I cooked nutritious meals, kept the house tidy, and even packed my husband’s lunches with little notes expressing gratitude for his hard work. It felt nice, but it also placed an immense weight of expectation on my shoulders.
Initially, my efforts seemed to pay off. I’d have dinner ready when he returned home, and I organized at-home date nights complete with personalized invitations. His appreciation fueled my drive to continue these efforts. I thought if he noticed how much I was trying, our marriage would thrive.
Then we welcomed a baby into our lives. Suddenly, the ideal wife I had fashioned became increasingly difficult to maintain. My husband returned home to a chaotic house, dirty diapers, and a weary wife. My emotional well-being began to deteriorate. I felt responsible for our baby’s cries and believed our marriage would falter if I couldn’t manage it all. I even sought out books that suggested how much babies love their fathers, hoping to ease my guilt.
Despite my best intentions, I felt like I was failing both as a wife and a mother, yet I was unsure how to try any harder. The turning point arrived during a particularly heated argument. Like many couples, we couldn’t even recall the argument’s origins. At one moment, I found myself shouting that I was doing everything possible to make our marriage work, but it just didn’t seem to be enough. What more did he want? Better meals? More income? A tidier house? Increased intimacy?
No, he wanted me to stop overexerting myself. In my pursuit of perfection, I had inadvertently distanced myself from the man I loved. Instead of enjoying time together, I was constantly busy tidying up and organizing. I unintentionally isolated myself from friends, which only intensified feelings of loneliness and jealousy when he spoke about his social life.
Our marriage is still a work in progress, but I’ve learned to let go of the need for perfection. I still send notes in his lunch but have also learned to ask for help when I’m overwhelmed. If I want to finish watching an episode of a show, the dishes can wait until he returns and can help me with them.
By relinquishing my need for control, I’ve rediscovered my affection for the man I fell in love with nearly a decade ago—the one who loves me for who I am, without the need for constant perfection. He reassures me that we won’t follow the same path as my parents.
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In summary, the journey to a successful marriage doesn’t always require perfection. Sometimes, stepping back and allowing yourself and your partner the space to breathe can lead to a more fulfilling relationship.