To My Husband on Our First Wedding Anniversary

One year ago today we started our life together. Actually, it started long before that. It started with a messy phone number and a girl just getting into chat rooms. It started with a phone call, followed by three months of phone calls, and finally, a trip to the movies. What was Jumanji about, anyway? All I remember is your arms and how safe and comfortable I felt with you. You were the first person who really took the time to care for me and make me a priority in his life. “I [had] been waiting for a [guy] like you to come into my life.” But it was only one year ago, almost four and a half years after the beginning, that legally I could call myself Mrs. William Burr Tyrrel.

Since then, in that one short year, much has happened and many problems have arisen. We’ve argued and we’ve fought and we’ve cried and we’ve been selfish and greedy. Slowly, we are learning to live together.

I want you to know I’m grateful for the decisions I’ve made. I won’t lie and say I have no regrets or that I’d do it all over again exactly the same way, because that's a bunch of bull. I will say that perhaps there are reasons things happened the way they did, and perhaps we needed to struggle to make our bond more indestructible.

“They said ‘I bet they’ll never make it’”. They said that I wouldn’t go to school, but here I am, and you’re the reason why. Where would I be without you? You won’t let me quit, won’t let me give up. You see all the potential inside me and won’t let me throw it away. I love you for that and thank you for that.

So, we go to school full-time, and we work full-time. How else are we going to pay the bills? It’s amazing how we stay on top. In less than a year, we have paid off a third of our mortgage and still have a good chunk of savings in the bank. And they thought we couldn’t survive on our own.

But perhaps we didn’t survive completely on our own. I know it bothers you how I always call my daddy when something goes wrong or call my mom whenever I have a question. Though I never thought of them as a big part of my life when I was growing up, I do now. I’ve found now that I’m not with them, I want to be with them more, but they’re just so far away. I envy you because your family’s so accessible.

I’m sorry that I try to make them inaccessible. I know how important they must be to you, but I try to keep you from them. I do this partly because of the obvious—I can’t stand them and don’t understand why you would want to be around them—but I also do it because I’m jealous and selfish. I never get to see my family, so why should you?

This same theory applies to your friends. Although I have gotten better, I’ll admit that I’m not perfect in this area. Being so far away, I have no friends here; you’re all I have. I’m lonely when you’re not here, and besides, your friends usually just get you into trouble. But I know you need that every now and then. I know you need to get away from me and just hang out. It’s just difficult for me to be alone, even when it seems that I don’t want you there.

Yes, we’ve had our fights and I’ve had my moods. “If I seem edgy, I want you to know that I never mean to take it out on you.” I love you for putting up with me. I love how you can always make me smile, even when I don’t want to. That’s right—don’t use this against me, but here’s my secret: Every time you try, I smile on the inside, but I’m too stubborn to let you know. I believe this has been a difficult year, but it’s one I hope never to forget. It has brought us even closer, though I never thought that was humanly possible.

It has taken some time, but I’ve gotten used to your car-talk and your constant game-playing. And I think you’re starting to learn a little more about the way I function, too. Scary as those discoveries might be, despite your jokes, I think you love me all the same, if not more, faults and all.

Learning to understand each other is the basis of any relationship. Slowly, we are doing that. To live together, we have to acknowledge each other’s views and respect things the other says and values. I’ll admit that I don’t always give you and your values the respect they deserve, but I’m trying to do better. Often, I catch myself and reassess my thought patterns.

I thank you for how hard you try. I thank you for thinking of me and my wants before you do what you normally would have done without thought. “It might have appeared to go unnoticed, but I’ve got it all here in my heart. I want you to know I know the truth.”

Politics, major issues, mathematics, cars…you know I don’t care about any of those. I know it frustrates you that you don’t know where I stand on many issues and that I don’t often share my opinion or back it up when I actually do. For that frustration, I apologize. I wish I could just go on like you do, say whatever’s on my mind, but I have these things floating around in my head. I don’t really know where they came from or why I can’t let them go nor explain them. I wish you could understand what it’s like to be me, to have lived my life, and to have had my troubles. But I guess that goes both ways.

Many times I don’t understand where you’re coming from, and instead of trying to figure out why you think the way you think or live the way you live, I ignore it. I accept it as your fault and move on…but maybe it’s not a fault at all; maybe it also is part of why I love you. Secretly, you challenge me to challenge myself.

Remember that feeling I said I got the first time you held me? It still rings true. Never do I feel safer or more comfortable or more loved than when your arms are wrapped around me. “Just to be with you makes everything seem alright”, “and when I touch you I feel happy inside.”

But the happiness fades every now and then as you do things that perturb me to no end. There are all these little things you do and say that cause me to hate you. “I hate the way you talk to me/And the way you cut your hair./I hate the way you drive [a] car./I hate it when you stare.//I hate your big dumb [dictionary]/And the way you read my mind./I hate you so much it makes me sick –/It even makes me rhyme.//I hate the way you're always right./I hate it when you lie./I hate it when you make me laugh –/Even worse when you make me cry.//I hate it [when] you're not around/And the fact that you [don't] call./But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you –/Not even close, not even a little bit, not any at all.” At times, I love you so much that I hate you.

Over and over again I have told you that I hate you, and I guess in a way that’s true. I hate how you’ve taken my simple life and made it so complex. So many times I have wished that we’d never met so that I could be home with my parents, going to school, working when I want to, having everything paid for, and living a carefree life. But I know that I wouldn’t really be happy, not like I am with you.

Hate and conflict put aside, my love is true, and in ways indescribable. What you have done for me, to me, with me, is more than I ever expected to receive from any one person, and perhaps that’s the best gift you’ve ever given me, better than the expensive jewelry or sentimental what-nots. “I don’t need no money, fortune, or fame. I’ve got all the riches, baby, one [gal] can claim.” “I’ve been so happy loving you.” “Life’s been good to me so far,” and I know it will only get better.

You may ask why I chose to use words other than my own to express my love. Though I know that original thoughts are best, as I was writing, I kept hearing other things pop into my head, and I decided that if someone else has already said exactly what I wanted to say, why try to outdo them?

But now, one year has passed, and many more are still to come. I know we will have many more shouting matches and flying objects, but I also know that I will never stop loving you, not for a second, because if I ever did, I think that I would stop breathing. You are my life, and you are the reason that I haven’t given up on myself, on life, or on love. Nothing I could ever say would come close to telling you everything you have done for me. I love you. “To go on from here, I can’t use words—they don’t say enough.”

Back