Why My Husband Stayed

With Father's Day yesterday, I was brought to contemplate the journey that Isaac and I have been blessed to embark on as couple. I was filled with gratitude for the past, hope for the future, and most importantly, a keen sense of the absolute miracle that we are still together today.

Yes, miracle.

You see, it wasn't too long ago that we were approached by someone we had barely met who asked questions about my Cataplexy (Greek for suddenly struck down) and Narcolepsy. After listening for a moment, he asked a profound question that still echoes in my mind.

"Why did you stay with her?"

My husband's answer was polite. Ironically, we were not offended. We thought about this long after he left. We were moved by his total lack of understanding. And together, in private, we answered the question.

He stayed, or as we like to phrase it, WE stayed because we weren't afraid of this disease. WE stayed because we had already gone through so much before Cataplexy ever hit our lives. We stayed because we had practiced for many years prior the art of showing up each day.

You see, Isaac was 21 and I was 19 when we decided that were ready to commit to marriage. We were immature, short sited, self centered, co dependent, and extremely stubborn kids who decided that as freshman in college, we knew what we wanted in an eternal companion (we are married for eternity in our religion, so... yeah its a pretty intense decision) and we weren't open to any advice unless of course, it supported what we wanted to hear. 

He was from the country,

I was from the city.

I am an extrovert. 

He is happiest on a river, alone, with fish that he never eats. 

I am happiest at taco bell with a crowd of friends who also love taco bell.  

He loves sports. 

I love to decorate. 

He loves nature. 

I love it too, as long as a Walmart is within 15 minutes. 

I love to dance. 

He loves to not dance. 

He is patient.

I am quick to make decisions. 

He believes in slow and steady.

I believe in fast and then faster. 

But we were in love. He was calm, and I was a hyper active outgoing person who didn't have to entertain him. He thought my endless babble was interesting, and I thought his cool and laid back attitude was admirable. He was the most respectful man I had ever met. He was the kindest man I had ever met. He was perfect for me. 

Seriously, we were so in love... and really dumb.

And so we were married. Our happily ever after was about to begin. Time to rest from our worries, and ride into the sunset with our soul-mate. 

And then it hit. The clear and blatant reality that we were completely different. 

In fact, it kills me to write this, but 3 years into our marriage, and 2 kids later, we sat in our counselor's office as he bluntly delivered the news. "You have a 95% chance of getting a divorce in 5 years unless you dramatically change the way your communicate with each other."

Huh? 

I was dumbfounded, sad, humbled beyond belief, and feeling completely helpless. We had been in counseling for nearly 18 months. I felt like we had given it all we had. We had never worked so hard, and we had never been so miserable. 

It felt unfair. 

It felt like his fault. 

It felt like my fault. 

It felt like a dream. A really crappy dream. 

And so we left. And we continued to struggle for a couple more years. Yes, years. Yes, we are slow learners. Remember, we were dumb when we started.... soooo don't judge. 

But the one thing we both had in common was stubbornness. Over time, and a lot of counseling, the stubbornness turned into determination, and then into humility, and then commitment, and lastly into joy. 

After six years of marriage, and three kids, we figured out how to be happy. Genuinely, joyfully happy. And something else blossomed in those 6 years of intense struggle..... gratitude. A real sense that neither one of us had to be there. That we were reliant and completely dependent on the each other to show up each day. Some days: 

We showed up half way. 

We showed up physically as in "Hi I'm here. Yes I'll change a diaper, but don't talk to me" 

We showed up emotionally and had great conversations.

We showed up crying. 

We showed up angry. 

We showed up happy and then irritated because the other person showed up grumpy. 

We showed up happy even when the other person was grumpy (that was a game changer). 

We showed up hurt. 

We showed up excited about life. 

We showed up ready to listen. 

And we kept showing up. Ugly, pretty, nice, mean, weird, off, unsure, scared, excited, and all. There was something magical about showing up each day. There was something totally imperfect about it all. We stopped chasing the "perfect days" and started appreciating each day. 

And the best part about showing up is, you get to try again tomorrow, even when you reallllly screwed up today. Even when you said something so stupid, hurtful, rude, awkward and unforgivable that day, we both knew that we were going to be there tomorrow. 

Fast forward 5 year later and 11 years of  marriage under our belts, and we were sitting around talking about how grateful we were for those short 5 years of counseling we had. We loved each other, and we tried to avoid being dumb the best we could. 

And then "It" happened. I had Narcolepsy with Cataplexy.  We were so busy showing up, that we didn't see it coming. And then, one day: 

I showed up paralyzed. 

I showed up broken. 

I showed up with really messy hair. 

I showed up sad. 

I showed up helpless. 

I showed up unclear of the path ahead. 

I showed up as a house decoration that talks. 

I showed up in walker wheelchair. 

I showed up and fell asleep walking to the front door. 

I showed up unable to carry my part. 

And then by the grace of God, the help of angels around us in the form of friends, neighbors, and strangers, and the tools we learned in counseling, Isaac was empowered. 

He showed up strong 

He showed up and helped me do my hair.

He showed up really sad too (and that helped us heal). 

He showed up with hope. 

He showed up with faith that God would provide a path.

He showed up and listened. 

He showed up and pushed me in the wheelchair.

He showed up and carried me into the house. 

He showed up and carried my part. 

And eventually, just as before, when we both showed up each day,the days turned into years, and we healed. And now as we look forward, we hope and pray that we are privileged to have those years turn into eternity.

So now when people ask us how we did it, how He did it, we simply smile and think:

Show up.
Practice, practice, practice, practice
Show up. 

I hope that if your took time to read this blog, that you understand and that you have the courage to show up too. 

Happy Fathers Day to all the Dads who show up everyday.