“For my recent birthday, my husband and I took a trip to San Diego. It was our first vacation together in two years — long before his heart, and our world — stopped. We thought we could use the time to recharge, to reconnect, to remember what it’s like to be someone other than Mom and Dad.
But what happened on that trip was this: we didn’t remember. We had lost our footing in feeling comfortable as a couple. We (mainly me) had no idea what to do without our little people around to distract us. So, I just scheduled a lot of activities and excursions — if we were on the go maybe we wouldn’t feel the gap in our marriage. It was awkward and exhausting, and on the last day, I let my depression get the best of me and didn’t even leave the bed.
I returned home anything but recharged, and very, very regretful.
I regretted the fact that I let a prime opportunity to reignite our marriage slip away. If I couldn’t do it in sunny San Diego, it surely wasn’t going to happen at home in the middle of preschool purgatory. It had been years since our last getaway and who knows when another one would come. We don’t have the time, or money, or babysitters to be jet setting every week.
But a funny thing happens when you open yourself up to the universe — when you’re honest about where you’re at and what you need. Because very soon after the San Diego disaster, my husband came home and said his boss had fought for him to attend their annual President’s Trip — a reward trip someone in his position usually isn’t eligible for — but because of his hard work an exception had been made.
We were going to the Dominican Republic on the company’s dime.
Let me stop and say this: life for me hasn’t always been rainbows and butterflies and fruity cocktails on a white sand beach. It’s mainly been inconsistency and abuse. Which is why when I met my husband, the most steady and stable man I’d ever encountered, I immediately said ‘I do.’
But I wasn’t seeing any of the assets anymore. All I was seeing was the work and the disconnect. We hadn’t even made it to year seven of marriage yet, but I was itchy.
And here’s why.
