Small Strokes Big Oaks

I have been so fortunate to make the acquaintance of Liana on Twitter (what a cool tool for meeting new, like-minded people!). She has been great fun to interact with, and has been incredibly supportive. When she reacted to a few of my posts, saying she could relate to them, I asked her to write a guest post for me here. I’m so glad she did, because this post is wonderful. She writes about the very real issues we all go through when we find ourselves no longer… well… ourselves in a relationship. This is something we can all relate to.

Some time ago,  Ashley blogged about what it was like to lose yourself in a relationship and find yourself again. She mentioned, among other things, that she believed in love but also in being partners with the person you loved. I identified with her post so much, and felt myself nodding in agreement all the way. But it was this line that really hit home for me: “Somewhere along the line, my life became less important than ours.” I knew exactly what that felt like.

When we met, Radioguy ¹ and I were hard at work on making our career dreams come true. What a coincidence that we were both brought to that college town in Upstate New York by our careers: he a sports broadcaster, I a graduate student. He worked with several sports teams year round. I had just started PhD coursework and was teaching my own classes. When the day was over we’d run over to each other’s apartments’ we’d finish work on the couch or the kitchen table and catch up. Sometimes I cooked, or we went out to dinner, or hung out with friends. Later, we’d sit down and watch tv for a little while before going to bed. I felt we were perfect.

Almost two years later, we decided to move in together. It made sense: we shared expenses and living space anyway, and we both believed in living together before committing to someone for the rest of our lives. We refused to move into each other’s apartment because we thought that would bring tension and a sense of invasion, so we looked for our own apartment.

Months later after we moved in together we started having problems. We argued over laundry. We argued over how to arrange items in the refrigerator. We argued about having space to ourselves (in a one-bedroom apartment, of all places).

I didn’t realize at the moment that part of what made our relationship work was that we had accepted each other for what the other person was. Work late? Sure! Go away for the weekend with friends? Why not? But once we were living together, there was always something I needed or he wanted. There was always something that he didn’t do or that I kept on doing. And I became obsessed with being perfect again.

Here was a big part of the problem: even though I consider myself a feminist, I brought in a lot of expectations about what living together meant. I was all of a sudden consumed by ideas about what I should or shouldn’t do. I thought I should be home early from school when before I would have stayed on campus to work. I resented that Radioguy would stay after games to talk to co-workers, even though he did that before. I thought he should care about chores just as much as I did. I thought a lot during that period.

Once things got rocky, I dissected our relationship nonstop: what can I do?, I thought. I stopped caring about myself and my work. All I wanted to do was heal our relationship. After all, we were supposed to be perfect for each other. Till this day I always remember what Radioguy told me once during that period: just make yourself happy. But I didn’t know how to anymore. I thought it was my job to make us happy again.

Eventually we broke up. Those few months apart were rough; I thought he was my soulmate, and the fact that we couldn’t be together shook me apart. However, that period was good for us. We got back in touch with ourselves. We learned to be happy by ourselves again. I started a new job, returned to my research, even went out with someone else for a while. But we never lost touch, even when we were hurt and upset, and we gravitated toward each other again. Now we live in Kansas City (coincidentally, because of his job) and are raising a daughter together.

I can’t give you a precise answer why we broke up or how we got back together again. This post isn’t about that. What I can tell you is that I learned to recognize that I was bringing into our apartment high expectations of not only him but of myself; I saw myself trying to be a traditional wife, and failing at being a homemaker. In the process, I lost myself. Now that we’re together, I still make time for my research, and have started writing for my own pleasure again. I do what I can around the house, and share responsibilities with Radioguy. And when he does the laundry I leave him alone.

Liana reads, writes, listens, tweets, and dissertates on a regular basis. She’s also a first-time parent. Until recently she taught college-level writing, which allowed her to rediscover the pleasure of writing. You can follow her on Twitter (@literarychica) and read her blog (http://wordsaremygame.wordpress.com).

Want to submit a guest post? Check out the guidelines and email it to samsanator(at)gmail(dot)com.