Wednesday, 27 May 2009

From M.I.S.S. to M.R.S.

My hubby asked me to write about my journey from MISS to MRS. I immediately dismissed the idea as I had about a million other things I wanted to write about and that topic seemed to come much further down on my list of urgency. I smiled sweetly like only wives do when we pretend to agree and we are trying to mask an internal rebellion. I had already decided about this week's entry and had in fact penned the opening paragraph. But when my husband asked me later on in the week for my feedback on his projects, I noticed how eager he was to understand my points so that he could put it into work. Convicted by the respect my hubby gave me, I took pen to paper, fingers to keyboard and set to work. Today, my birthday I really entered the cinematic world of my mind and screened my final year as M.I.S.S.

Enter MISS me, my afro head far too inflated with marriage theories to allow me through my single friends front doors. This time last year, I had read up on all I thought there was to know about courtship and marriage. I had a tower of books erected beside my bed that was my gateway to marital bliss. I had appointed myself the relationship counsellor to all those around me, my best friend called me the courtship cop! I would sit for hours understanding the mechanics of men and women, their purpose in each other's lives and would shake my head in disapproval at anyone who went against my courtship commandments. My behaviour and actions weren't as helpful as I had intended and I want to take this opportunity to apologise to everyone I may have offended. I have come to understand that true wisdom does not need a fanfare when it arrives. Wisdom needs no introduction or announcements. It is observed by those around you without a lecture, a breakdown of a scripture or the 10 key steps to courtship paradise. I knew little if anything at all then, it was a good foundation but since when did reading the driving test theory prepare you for changing gears or driving on the motorway. I have taken time to observe the lives of the wives around me and realised that they lived quite a different life according the chronicles of wifedom I had played in my mind. I took a deeper look at my character when I started my marriage and realised I had got a lot of things fundamentally wrong. I began to deconstruct the pillars of knowledge I had on the inside of me and decided to become an ambassador for love. This does not mean I put on a maxi dress, wore flowers in my hair and sang 'love and peace to all ', it became more of a personal journey within to speak love louder than any theory, latest revelation or scriptural dissection.

I had never really had much respect for patience; I needed answers last week, success yesterday and the future 60 minutes ago. The last 365 days have taught me something surprising – things don't always happen when I think they ought to. Wow, what a revelation! It seemed that my husband had been assigned as my own personal tutor for patience. I soon became tired of flying off the handle if he didn't reply to an urgent email regarding the wedding colours or if bridesmaids were reluctant to rehearse their all important entry. I admit I do like to have an element of control in my life but I am learning that I do not hold time. It seems so basic but, I realise now that is better to go with the natural flow of things than to force timing to match with your emotions. As clichĂ© as it sounds, some things are worth the wait. I have not quite mastered this eight lettered phenomena, I still take a number of deep breaths and resist the urge to turn into the incredible hulk some times. It seems the more I pray for patience, the more opportunities that seem to come my way for me to exercise it. I believe patience not just to be the ability to wait whilst maintaining your composure and positive attitude irrespective of the timing of a particular event. It's extremely difficult at times especially if you have strong opinions like I often do, holding back can feel as though you are losing a part of who you are. It was important at those times to remind yourself of the end goal and it is not to win the argument but it is to resolve it so that both parties can continue in love. By listening to my internal thought process I can sort through my emotions and try to make my thoughts logical, if I can't make sense of what I am feeling then usually it means it's not worth fussing over. My hubby is not a mind reader so unless I speak logic and reason to him, we will both be intimate strangers. Now when he is in cyber world and I want him to look at the latest Jimmy Choo's I realise that it is not because he doesn't care but that he is in speaking with gigabytes, html, xml, POM and Choo's just don't fit in. I had an incredible knack of turning quite simple tiffs into mountainous arguments that would stretch the entire day. My repertoire of arguments range from heated discussions in oxford circus over the colour of grooms men's ties, whose turn it was to drive whilst on a winters day and a pair of newly acquired boots. Naturally the arguments would start over these little things but my mind had a wonderful way of connecting other completely unrelated issues to form a way of sticky issues. My sweet hubby with a bemused expression on his face, would wonder how we had escalated from the colour of ties to discussing his commitment to our pending wedding. Over the course of the year I have learnt to select my arguments well. It is not every matter that requires a board meeting with your subconscious taking minutes for later reference. Life is too short to argue over boots that's what receipts are there for; take them back or apologise and put them on!

This day last year I was seated opposite my hubby, then fiancé. He had been a little late to meet with me which just seemed to make my already disappointing birthday worse. I love birthdays; the cheesy cards and the copious amounts of cake. Last year, things were a little different. I had been at work all day so there were no cheesy cards until later on in the evening when I met with my hubby. The anger and upset welled up inside of me and no matter how I tried to resist it, the familiar warmth of my tears rolled against my cheek.

'What's wrong?' my hubby asked. Anxious that perhaps his present wasn't as great as I had insisted it was.

'Nothing.' I mumbled.

Wiser than I thought at the time, my hubby persisted. 'What's wrong?'

I threw a tantrum about my birthday, things hadn't gone the way I was used to. Where were the balloons, the excited faces and the birthday girl attention? How could I have a birthday without renditions of Steve Wonder 'happy birthday' recitals! I had spent the majority of the day with work colleagues who didn't understand my rich traditions. If this M.R.S. could see that M.I.S.S. she would slap that M.I.S.S into reality.

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