A Wife's Identity Crisis

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.