Kristin Armstrong recently wrote for Glamour magazine about what she wishes she had known about marriage. Here are some exerpts. You can follow the link in the title below to read the full article.
“What I wish I had known about marriage”
The greatest conspiracy in modern history is not Watergate or the shooting of JFK; it’s something far more ingrained and insidious in the way it distorts the truth. The conspiracy is marriage. . . .
Perhaps we are all guilty of holding on too tightly to our own Cinderella stories, thinking that the glass slipper of the perfect marriage will conform to us uniquely. . . .
Here is the truth as I see it: Marriage has the potential to erode the very fiber of your identity. If you aren’t careful, it can tempt you to become a “yes woman” for the sake of salvaging your romantic dream. It can lure you into a pattern of pleasing that will turn you into someone you’ll hardly recognize and probably won’t like. . . .
The incredible disappearing woman
Ten years ago . . . . I had bought my first house . . . . I had adopted a dog named Jake . . . . drove a cute little green Miata that I paid for in full. I was career-minded and single-minded. I was also headstrong and naive; I treasured my self-sufficiency so much that I scoffed at women who gave up their jobs, stayed home to take care of children or relied on men for anything.
Then I fell in love. I met Lance Armstrong. . . . Soon I was joyfully sporting an engagement ring with a hefty rock the size of my dilated pupil in a darkroom. I was so enamored with my new stature as part of a couple that I paid more attention to my left hand than to readying my heart for the journey ahead. I quit my job, rented out my house, gave my dog to an old boyfriend, sold my car and moved to France so Lance could reenter the world of professional cycling. We got married and promptly had three children—a son and then twin daughters—who were breast-fed, toted between countries and utterly adored by their devoted, full-time, stay-at-home mommy. (So much for my scoffing.). . .
If you ask me today what I truly love, I can easily tell you I love God, my family, my friends, fireworks displays, a good red wine, staying up late with a mystery novel, a sweaty run, painting abstract art, indulging my organizational compulsions, laughing until no sound comes out and taking my time. If you had asked me when I was married what I loved, I would have automatically told you the things that I loved about my husband. . . . Making him happy became my happy.
So this once-devout Catholic stopped going to church because it was inconvenient. . . . I quit reading late into the night because the light was bothersome to a tired athlete who needed sleep. I put all the energy and skills that made me a good manager and account executive into errands, planning and mothering. But the beauty of a wife is not found in those things. The beauty of a wife is in her being, not in her doing. During those years I perfected my doing and neglected my being. I remember the day that revelation first hit me: I made a joke to Lance about being opinionated, and he looked at me, sincerely confused: “You?”
Getting back the real me
If I were to do things over again, I wouldn’t have thrown myself so irrevocably into my new life. I would have guarded the things that made me feel like me —the places, the friends —and above all I would have spoken up about my needs. Instead, I will leave you with a lesson about how a woman can hold on to the bright, hard flame of who she is.
If your husband asks what you think, tell him. If you have a preference, voice it. If you have a question, ask it. If you want to cry, bawl. If you need help, raise your hand and jump up and down. I spent five years juggling kids, travel, cooking, smoothing. I never once said that I couldn’t do it on my own, or that I was just plain tired. I became a prisoner to my own inability to say uncle when life squeezed me too hard. The warden was pride, and I remained in maximum security.
The time may come when you realize that the only way to restore the meaning to your marriage is to get back the real you. It requires warrior-size courage to take a stand against the miscommunication, deception and emotional distance that breed in the shadows of inauthenticity. You will have to boldly step up to the line and speak from your heart. You will have to own your words (spoken and unspoken), your actions (done and undone) and the consequences of both. . . .
[I hope my daughters] will bring to their marriages the greatest gift of all: a unique and unshakable sense of self.
Kristin Armstrong is a freelance writer and contributing editor for Runner’s World magazine.
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