Cerebral Combustion
Confessions of a newly wed
I have long before ascertained the art of disentanglement, an extensive process of irony in a relationship which I have lengthily carried on with the man I am now opportunely married. Each couple has its own mark that is distinctive, whether it be their respective diversities or in itself a singular attachment on the idea of being in a relationship. There were issues I was fixated on before, some tight spots somewhere in between accepting and loving as opposed to loving and accepting. Early on, engrossed with the thought of establishing a perfect liaison, I constantly struggled not because it cannot be achieved but it was merely due to an oblivious obsession of creating an already ideal man to a faultless human being. It was a cataleptic task I did without even asked which eventually exploded back to me in spurts of self-detonating over reactions and later sheer madness. He is in love with me. I never doubted the fact that we were amorously besotted with each other. How we wanted to be so ardently in each other's sight was overwhelming. It never ended but he is not my whole life nor I am his, and the urge we had to withdraw from our seemingly endless attachment is almost always distressing.
There was a time I had to let go, run after my dreams, and chase my destiny. I wanted him to do the same, to be more and to be less of what I do not want. The more I loved him, the more I asked. I demanded of things I thought will be better for him and he did ungrudgingly gave up on what I do not require. He never imposed me to be anything in return which later was the turning point of my substantial realization: that love is not giving up something about who you are, what you do, or have, nor it is asking another person or the person you love for that matter, alter his best or his worst.
Loving just sometimes simply means to compromise. I now knew that asking him to be who I want, I become the woman he does not want. Between us, our love is unquestionable. But as cronies, lovers, partners, allies, there is always a form of art to learn-- taming arguments, tuning up differences, preserving the mystery of passion and even keeping the heat of making love. It is only months when we got married. With our family, friends and God as our witness, we submerged ourselves not only to keep our vows but to sustain it as long as we live, and blissfully impart it to our child and children in the future. The predicaments I had in my life before, confused of what I want and unsure of where my contentment will be, I have all at once collected the recollections of what I longed for since I was a little girl as I stood in the altar and right there with him, I am fulfilled just by knowing I am loved. The day we wed, I am not in his intention to be assured but to affirm that we are together in communion in the Lord's blessing of making us one. There is never a day in my life when I remember I am convinced that marriage in truth works. But knowing the man that he is and genuinely showing each other the best and worst of who we are since we met, we have surrounded ourselves with a strong bond of commitment, patiently growing to care for our imperfections in a way that we understand without conditions nor hesitations.
When we became one, it was easier for me to let go of the expectations and inhibitions I was haunted from the past. Even the life I craved for seemed wrong. In him and being with him, I have found inner peace not because I cannot accomplish it on my own, but my imperfections turn to perfection through the honesty of the man who openly sees the way I am and who I can possibly be. Marriage as I see fragile. Without trust it cannot survive, without faith it can be destroyed, without passion it can wither, without love it will simply dissolve and lead you to another, without money-you both can go to hell.
When we met, we each had our own dreams. But now those dreams became us. When I see him smile and say I love you to me every time, it is my New York, my Paris and Maldives, my pair of Manolo's, my priceless piece of art and much more. We do not feel like we are married at all, rather we are awed for having been sanctified of the love we are so eager to share with each other which shines more than the restrictions of the promises of marriage. Ours is a matrimony in a piece of paper turned to gold.
Any relationship can be singled out by a theory, truth or fact about men and women in general but there is no proven formula for two persons to stay entangled for a long time except for what is meant to be--having the right love not the right person. Because marriage is either destiny or a march of folly.