Sitting to write this feels like coming out of hibernation.
You may assume my digital silence is due to my status as a newlywed… at least, I’ve heard the assumption once or twice. But as a wise friend told me, “being married is not the work of busyness.” I’d sooner attribute my lack of public writing to the reality that I have Kyle as a constant and active outlet for all of my ideas and thoughts. I feel less compulsion to add to the Internet noise.
But aside from reducing my presence here, it’s a damn good thing I have that man around. Because my time spent not online lately has been spent preparing for our first big adventure together: moving to Washington, D.C.
If you’ve talked to me at all in the past year, you knew this was coming. But what we didn’t publicize so much was that
we didn’t know. At least, not for sure.
When I was accepted to this perfectly perfect grad school program that I really, really wanted to do, Kyle and I were not even dating. (In fact, we had just reconnected after a 6-month friendship hiatus that we now refer to as The Dark Days.)
I was certain that I wanted to be in Manhattan. I was certain that I wanted Kyle to be in my life. But I was not certain enough about moving to DC. So I deferred my acceptance, things moved forward with Kyle, and the DC/grad school conversation stayed on the table.
And it sat there until a month ago.
Even as we planned our wedding and reported our planned move with certainty, I could not ignore the opportunity that marriage presented me:
“It is actually possible, at this point in your life, to buy a house with your best friend in your favorite town, start having babies now, and just do that. Forever.”
And that sounded pretty awesome.
It’s a struggle I never thought I’d have: with an opportunity like acceptance to a great school in a beautiful city with family nearby, I thought of saying, “Thanks, but no thanks, I’d like to be a housewife.” And I cried and cursed the Feminist Movement for giving me the choice. Kyle knew of my internal struggle, and it came up often. It is never easy to want everything and to have to choose one thing.
So Kyle did one of the strongest, most important things he has yet done as my husband:
he chose for me.
We were in DC to find an apartment, and I sat crying one last time about not knowing which path was best. I couldn’t hold off the decision any longer: we could sign a lease in DC that very day, or go back to Manhattan with the intent to stay there. Finally, Kyle said,
“I think there are things that you need to learn and experience that you can’t find anywhere but here. I want to see you be a stronger person. I want to see what you’re capable of. You need this.”
And that was it.
A few friends have asked me how I knew Kyle was “The One.” And the truth is that I didn’t. (On that subject, I feel like this girl Hannah took the words right out of my mouth.) But moments like that are what make me certain that choosing each other was right.
Kyle caught on to a vision for my life, and he reminds me of it when I forget. He has this perspective of who I am at my best that I lose too easily. He is capable of calling me back to my purpose when I’m a sobbing mess of uncertainty.
When the decision to go to DC was finally made, I realized that the day I chose Kyle, I chose to go. He would never let me settle for a life that does not challenge me. And I love him so much for that.
There is so much I want to say here about the value of leadership, community, healthy submission, and the irony of obeying my husband to take the “feminist path.” But right now, I just wanted to give you this picture of what it took to take a step forward.
With all of the adventures I have embarked upon solo, I am most excited and most confident that this one will be full and hard and better than anything I have done yet.
And yes, I’ll try to remember to blog about it.