That compromise came to me the morning following my calm but adamant declaration of cerebral and sentient liberation from the current dynamic of my marriage.
There is no rancor here. When you stand in your truth, there does not need to be. In fact, that is often the hallmark of veracity because when truth is untainted by emotion, it is pure; and purity has no agenda nor does it have a preference for sides.
However, what truth does contain is peace. It is not the kind of peace promoted in wartime nor the sort sung about in churches and temples. Those apply to outwardly mobilized forces of human interaction and the championing of decency as the collective standard; and while they are equally as profound and crucial, they are shared as an objective goal and often a great struggle is necessary to accomplish the ends they promise.
The peace that I am referring to is one that is so subjective and held so deeply within the unique character of its human vessel that not only does it immediately benefit only that person, but it is only applicable to that person.
Quantum physics being applied, of course, insists that the truth and peace of one will eventually benefit all. Unfortunately, that theory cannot be proven because in order for it to work to its perfection, each one of us would have to be aligned with our own truth all of the time, which we are not. That being so, people are bound to get hurt in the wake of our stridency.
This brings me back to my point about the necessary human invention of compromise.
In a marriage the 'two may be joined as one' but that does not imply that they actually are one. In fact, in many marriages the diametrically oppositional forces are so pronounced that it is astounding to both the couple themselves and any cognizant outsider that they are even able to get within a mile of one another without a significant conflict arising let alone sharing the same bed.
But there are forces of attraction that have no logical explanation and purposes behind situations and circumstances that will never be fully known or understood as long as we still need to hold air in our lungs order to live.
This would adequately describe the context within which my marriage falls. Speaking for myself, I am a willing participant in the category of oppositional attraction. At least some of the time. The rest of the time I am watching reruns of "Snapped" and "Forensic Files" and taking notes.
But in terms of compromise, in nearly every relationship I have either observed or been involved in, there is an inequitablility within the partnership which is seldom overtly acknowledged but accepted in vague undertones.
I don't know whether to characterize it as a being a greater need of one for the other, love of one for the other or hold over one by the other; but in any case, there is always one whose upper hand is apparent and heavily laden over the faltering fingers of the other.
Early on in our marriage, the upper hand belonged squarely to my husband. He was older than I, had a respectable job as a school teacher, owned his own home, was an exceptional local athlete often featured in the town newpaper and was extraordinarily handsome. In the prominent Connecticut town in which we lived, he was considered quite a catch and made himself even more appealing by his confirmed bachelorhood.
When we met I was twenty-five, just coming off a disastrous eight-month marriage to an abusive misogynist, a college dropout working at a despicably barren temp job, a closet artist and writer living with my parents and, while I did not yet know it, very newly pregnant from an ill-conceived rebound romance. By my own critical assessment, I was a consummate loser.
Within a year and when my son was three months old, my husband and I married. I adored the man. I also felt indebted. I need not have, but I did. I knew at the outset that we were extremely different that if this marriage were going to work, compromise was key; and since I was the beholden loser, I was willing to do nearly all of it.
Until recently, that dynamic was the basis for and the adhesive of a marriage that at its best is challenging. At its worst, insufferable.
Yet this is not a blame game. It is not a question of one being good and the other, bad. It is a question of being different; of there being so little common ground between our interests and personalities the dirt of it would hardly fill an ashtray. There are no bad guys here.
And what has happened with the children now gone is that my commitment to compromise for the sake of unity is waning. It is not a question of desiring change on his part. People can't do that. I am still willing to sacrifice conversation to the alter of ESPN; and I understand that I will never be understood and, therefore, will continue to do the lion's share of listening only. I also realize that I will only be supported in what I do in as much as he can comprehend what I do, which is fairly slight.
All I am announcing is that I WILL do what I have waited a cycle of child rearing to do and that it would be best to stay out of my way while I'm doing it. Lack of support I can handle because I understand why it is not forthcoming, but obstruction? No way.
Beyond that my commitment to compromise within the marriage remains intact.
I don't have time to upset and reconstruct the whole apple cart and still meet my goals. I'd rather make friends with the occasional worm and keep pushing the wagon. Bad fruit is still edible. You just have to know where to make the cuts.
And sometimes overly-ripe apples yeild extraordinary pies.
You take your piece and find your peace.
