They say the first year of marriage is the hardest. I’m not sure if I agree with that. In 2009 I was single, getting drunk alone in my bedroom on a Tuesday night, and texting my ex-boyfriend begging him to call me back. THAT year, my friends, was the hardest. But being married does bring it’s own set of worries, stress, and frustration. Yes my bathroom mats are constantly dripping wet, no I can’t buy that Tory Burch handbag because Will wants the septic tank to be serviced, and because my husband is 6’7 my laundry has not doubled. It’s tripled. Then there are the big stressors: budgeting our money, changes with our job, trying to get pregnant (the big stressor), or balancing time with our families. My whole life I was
raised taught exposed to yelling. When your stressed you yell. If you are mad, you yell. I’m Italian and that’s the Terzo way. We don’t have an indoor voice and if you piss us off its not only written all over our faces, but our body and hand gestures too.
It’s taken most of the first year of marriage for Will to learn that when I’m yelling at him, I’m not falling out of love. I’m not running for the hills (I’m in this til the end). I simply have a point to make. And I’m passionately making that point. In the journey of marriage, an argument with your husband should be just a little bump in road. I yell and then I’m over it in 5 minutes and planning my grocery list. But Will sees arguing as the dead end in the road. He’s had to learn that when we fight, we’re “not broken, just bent” and we’ll love each other again. But more importantly I’ve learned that it’s the people you love the most that you don’t yell at. I’d do anything for this man. Even if that means taking my loud passionate yelling and turning it down a
few several notches.
Blog Title Lyrics: Pink’s Just Give me a Reason (featuring Nate Ruess)