One of the many questions that people ask you after you get
married is, “Is it weird being married?” Until now, it seemed be a weird
question. My answer generally resembled something like, “No, of course not.
It’s just like living with my best friend.” And there’s truth to that. Bryce is
my best friend. However, there was nothing normal about living with my best
friend. I had never lived with a friend before. Scratch that. I had. I’d
definitely consider Jenna a friend, but we hadn’t known each other before
living together. Our becoming friends stemmed from the fact that we lived
together. I also had never lived with anybody even close to my age. I’m an only
child. I had no siblings to bother with my deep secrets and thoughts. The
closest I come to living with my best friend is living with my mother, and
well, she’s my mom. Entirely different category. So on the surface my answer is
a reasonable one, but dig a little deeper, and you realize I had no idea what
living with my best friend really meant.
So, I guess my point is now my answer is, “Yes, it is.”
There are so many things you learn and realize when you first move in with
someone. Of course, there’s the odd habits – certain way to fill the
dishwasher, foods you didn’t realize the other person loves or hates, how messy
is too messy, etc. But there’s the traits you learned growing up too, like,
who’s supposed to wash the dishes, how to ask for help, when is a good time to
interrupt what a person is doing. Those are the things that surprised me. It’s
really quite astonishing how much your childhood environment really impacts how
you live life. I’ve had to learn that Bryce doesn’t realize what needs to be
done (which is how I was taught to do chores – if you see something that needs
to be done, do it), but all he needs is for me to ask. And that’s a bigger
issue than you probably realize. But I’m getting off track. The point is it
took (and is taking) some getting used to, having a man living in the same
house.
Furthermore, it really changed the way I saw myself, and
this is probably the thing I’m struggling most with. I had pretty much figured
out who I was as a single young woman. I was confident in that person, and
lived my life that way. But now who was this person? The one with the funny, long
German last name? This one with the ring on her finger? The one who now lived
in the same apartment with some guy and shared the same bank account with him?
I didn’t know. I didn’t know how to make sense of this seemingly new person.
Who was I? Even worse than my lost identity was the fact that I had lost my
surrounding identity. My friends and family. I had moved to a new city, with
very few familiar things in it. My identity crisis was in full swing.
I still don’t know how to be married. That sounds silly, but
it’s true. I don’t know how to be my independent self, yet be interdependent
with my husband. I don’t know how to be confident, yet submissive. I don’t know
how to be a leader, while walking beside someone else. But maybe that’s the
whole problem. Maybe I didn’t learn these things with God before I had Bryce.
Maybe I was so independent, I thought I could control my own life without God.
Maybe I was so confident in myself, I didn’t think I needed to trust God for
anything. Maybe I was trying to lead God, instead of God leading me.
I’m starting to realize that I didn’t really know who I was
when it was just me, because it was just me. I didn't rely on God as my identity. At least not as deeply as I thought. As I needed. As I want now. God is
still molding me, but slowly I am learning to let Him in. The only identity I need to know is that I am His, and He
is mine. That is all that matters.
