Commitment

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I couldn’t recite them verbatim, if you put me on the spot today, and our wedding video exists on a DVD we no longer have the equipment to play. But thinking back to the evening of July 21, 2007, when we stood in a modest-sized Chicago banquet room exchanging original vows before family and close friends, I remember feeling like we totally nailed it.

He pledged to be there to take care of my needs, running out for early morning Diet Mountain Dews or bags of Snyder’s Old Timey pretzels to dip in yogurt at night (such were my tastes at the time 🤷🏼‍♀️). I professed a desire to be more like him — patient, deliberate, slowing my motor to savor the moment — which marked a full 180 from my initial assessment: “I could never date this guy; he’s always #%^*-ing late!” 🤣

This wasn’t the schmaltzy, rom-com-esque attempt at poetry you might expect from such an exchange; it was the perfect combination of deeply personal and down-to-Earth, emotional and irreverent, sweet and silly. Our words were completely creative and totally us, reflecting the playful friendship and genuine affection around which this new marriage was about to be built.

Of course, like most 29-year-old kids, Hubby and I were totally clueless as to what being married was really all about.

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We’ve officially made it to Sweet Sixteen, and Friday, our 16th anniversary, will find us settled in a state of quaint domestic stability — relatively speaking — after four years living alcohol-free. We plan to celebrate by hiking the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania (yes, this thing exists) next week, after I get through this practice test I have to take to prep for the National Counselors Exam in the fall.

Truth be told, the process of becoming a therapist, which presently involves working as a therapist, has turned me into a very tired wife over the past six months, and I wasn’t much of a party girl to begin with.

Sitting down to write this, I feel like nothing I say here can do our story justice, even if I was bursting with energy. I definitely won’t be able to accurately capture my feelings for him. Paying tribute to the guy who’s stood by me, true blue to his vows, through the ravages of addiction and a range of tough transitions, will come across as one big cloying cliché (see: any of my cheesy Facebook statuses from late-Julys past).

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The realities of long-term commitment aren’t all that romantic. Whether you’re talking about staying married or living sober, I’ve learned that the “meh”s are inevitable, and you will go through uninspiring, empty lulls when you wonder, “Is this it?” and question the point of the path you’re on. That doesn’t mean you’re broken or there’s anything wrong. It just means you’re human, and there’s work left to do.

Whether or not you choose to do it determines your chance at “happily ever after.”

So, yeah, it’s natural to plateau between life’s joyous peaks and painful valleys, and for a couple who’s been mired in the cycle of addiction, such periods of “regularness” can feel like a nice gift. The in-between times when nothing is happening are opportunities to be present for and reconnect with each other. I’m not sure that’s what we were doing by bingeing on Mt. Fuji takeout and “John Wick” movies the past few weekends, but you know what I mean. Bouts of boredom are gonna happen in every long-term relationship, and when your passion wanes, that’s when your commitment to the process — of recovery, of growing together — really shines through.

My drinking made our marital roller coaster much wilder than it needed to me for far too long. I very nearly drove us right off the track. My husband could have been like, “🤬 this 💩! I’m out!” many times along the way. And yet, because of that calm, patient, steady manner that maddened and amazed me from Day One, we have a second chance to enjoy our ride.

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My addiction, it seems, was a blessing in disguise, but that’s easy for me to say now. Crises do tend to force us to change, which sometimes turns out to be for the best. Problems can pave the way for great progress, which has certainly been true in our case. For all the good that has sprung from the rock-bottom depths, I’ll always wish I hadn’t made the path quite so painful for my partner.

I hesitate to tell him he’s the reason I’m still sober; that’s a burden no other person should have to bear. Still, in those dull plateau moments of “Really?! This is it?!” when I’m lamenting the awful regularness and questioning my commitment to this alcohol-free life, I think how fortunate I am to spend that life in a sweet, silly, playful, affectionate relationship where I never, ever question whether I am loved! I think how preposterous it would be to take that love for granted. And I think how amazing it is that I now feel capable of matching his loving energy and showing him what he means to me with every little daily choice I make.

Because I am sober, I can finally be true to my (super creative and original!) wedding vows. To get out of my own head and focus on someone else’s needs is “to be more like” my hubby. And considering it took me more than a decade of marriage to wake up to my responsibility and get with the program of an equal partnership, I can’t help but realize:

He’s really not the one who should get razzed for running late. 😏