At least that’s how it is for me.
I met my husband when I was 19. Went to college, got married, and finished grad school. I supported my husband’s military career. I drank and partied. I wanted to make him happy and make him love me more. That is how I thought. When I say party I mean drinking, staying up late, smoking marijuana. Nothing too crazy. I was a social butterfly even though I am very much an introvert. That’s when I lost myself.
I feel like I changed myself so much for him. I don’t feel like it was mutual though. I always have gone out of my way to support him. It’s not reciprocated.
Then, thirty hit. We had one child. Slowly my party days were over. I focused on my daughter. I was anxious and still am about drinking around them because, God forbid, something happens and we need to go to the ER, I can’t be drunk. Gone were the late nights of drinking and games. Replaced with late night feedings and diapers. I was mostly okay with it because I love my daughter. It was hard to adjust. I wouldn’t change it for anything. When we moved closer to friends and family, he started going out more and more with his friends or having them over to drink. Which isn’t horrible. But he was useless the next day being hungover and sleep deprived.
I even overheard him telling friends that, “I hear my daughter cry but I know my wife will get up with her so I sleep through it.” Oh wow was I mad! So I started waking him up when she woke up and making him get her. It worked in my favor because I was pregnant with my second. I played that card because I was exhausted. Which probably wasn’t actually playing a card as I really was exhausted while pregnant.
After baby number two I struggled. Worse than when I had my first. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I was just a mom. Where was Carrie? Where was the woman who loved her work and reading and going on walks? She was a mom. A mom crippled by anxiety and depression and could barely leave her house. A mom who was getting burnt out of work and raising two littles. I did nothing for me. I didn’t go out with friends, invite anyone over, I was a hermit. I’m surprised I still have friends.
After baby 2 was one-year-old, I got fed up. I was 50 pounds overweight. I joined WW. I started a boot camp. I fell in love and thrive on having something for me. I even dragged myself to 6am classes because I was so invested. I had something to do where babies weren’t attached to me, I didn’t have to make dinner or work or engage in conversation (you can’t talk when you’re trying to breathe and count). It was amazing. I was happier and healthier. I was at my best when I was 33. Don’t worry I decided to then have baby 3 after losing 30 pounds. Of course. Along came our little boy.
I got myself to boot camp and WW again and felt great. Then, I slowly fell off track since I was struggling with mental health and working along with momming. I am still struggling and my boy is 2.5 years old. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I want out of my marriage.
My husband doesn’t seem to appreciate the fact that I’m the voice of reason and I choose to stay inside with the kids while he is in the garage playing dice or poker until the wee hours. I have started being more firm with my boundaries. I don’t let him slide much but the more I do, the more uncomfortable it gets.
I wonder if he has been so used to me being a passive doormat that he is pushing back against the boundaries. I don’t know where this leaves us. I can say that now that I’m in my 30s I am much wiser. I wish I could tell myself in my 20s what I should look for in a marriage partner and don’t change yourself for anyone. Focus on the long term. Implement your expectations and boundaries early. You can’t control what others do but you can control your responses.
I wonder what my 40s will hold.
