Being married

I never knew I'd end up in the sort of relationship where I could tell my husband: "I'm having a hard time being married this week," and have him hug me and say, "I know, I know," instead of freaking out and thinking we needed a divorce or a couples therapist.

Because he knew exactly what that meant: I'm having a stressful week, and I really wish I could be able to come home and be absolutely alone.

Last week was possibly the most stressful week I've ever had at work. Even the first week of work, when I didn't know what I was getting into, or how I'd ever be able to do the work--that was less stressful than last week.

I'm used to hiding out with my stress. Being alone, not having to interact with other people, being mindful of every second I have to myself, that's the way I de-stress. It would be so much easier if I could just take a bubble bath, or work out my aggressions at a gym, but I can't.

The good part about it, though, is that Tim is the same way, so he gets my need for being alone. The better part is that talking about it: the stress, the difficulty in learning to deal with having another person there at all times, remaining two people when at times it feels like we're one--it makes me appreciate what an amazing, rare connection we have, and then I'm glad to be married. It's pretty fucking awesome.