For those who might be predicting an unhappy ending after reading the first two lines, it’s not a sad story. I’m (happily) married and still figuring out if my husband’s favourite colour is black or blue or grey. For the unaware, it keeps changing but I have made my peace with it because so is the definition of love, for both of us. I’ll be celebrating six years of being married to the man I met at a friend’s engagement and decided to take a leap of faith. No, that’s not the twist here because I believe everyone does that when they decide on forever.
Things were different for me from the beginning, I was marrying an Army officer, a life I had no clue about. I was 30 then and the idea of love had already narrowed down to mere basics–just trust each other through it and go with the flow. Little did I know that I was getting into a relationship that was demanding, emotionally and mentally. During one of our coffee dates, my husband said, “They say a soldier is brave, but the truth is we are brave, our partners need to be the bravest because we do our job, but they do a lot more than that, all alone, and it’s not easy.” I didn’t completely understand what it meant.
We stayed apart for the first few years, and it was then I learned that ‘going with the flow’ also meant dealing with long distance with a smile, and ‘trusting each other’ translated into a deep faith that he would come back, unharmed, even when I knew nothing about his whereabouts. It was then that I learned that love also means being the braver one, more accessible for people around because your partner is not reachable, quite literally. I always thought that I could manage it all because I never got into it thinking it would be easy. Of course, I was the braver one.
How I wish that the list could just end there; I had already transformed into a woman who had a (very) different, rather wild, take on love. And while my husband and I enjoyed our space when we stayed apart, we made sure to go for trips, coffee and movie dates, and cook for each other during his time at home. It was our way to let the other one know we care, of course with a side of regular fights and arguments, and making new relationship rules. Let's say that we were figuring out what it means to share your space, not just physically but also mentally and emotionally. A lesson that was going to hold a bigger meaning in times to come. Three years into the marriage, I went through a loss that altered my life forever, and little did I know that dealing with it would impact my relationship in ways that were unfathomable. Have you ever seen an emotionally wrecked and mentally messed-up person trying to make sense of love and relationship?
When I met my husband a few months after losing my sister, I realised that I had lost my bandwidth to be in love and show signs that I care. Yes, I liked a comforting hug and a shoulder to lean on, but that’s all I could manage. Intimacy, beyond those emotional exchanges, seemed impossible. Everything seemed unnecessary and love was the last thing on my mind—honestly, it wasn’t even on my list. Though I laugh it off at times now, him wiping off my tears was the maximum ‘action’ we’ve had during those months. And in those moments, life changed for both of us.
He’s been understanding but the fear in my head that I was pushing his limits didn’t seem like an exaggerated scenario to me at that time. ‘How long will he put up with this?’, I often used to wonder because I thought all he saw was a girl who was constantly crying. However, what he actually saw was his partner who needed to be supported, loved and perhaps repeatedly told that she’s not alone. Deteriorating mental health can destroy your power to be present, to be there in the moment, forget wanting to love or be loved. Remember what I said about being the braver one? Well, that was what I was fighting against. I wasn’t that anymore!
When you’re in a relationship, nothing that you experience or suffer is yours alone, you go through it together as one unit. And while it wasn’t easy for my husband to manage my emotional expectations while sidelining his own, it was how we realised that love can be found in vulnerabilities. Can you imagine feeling the most peaceful and finding solace while sitting next to each other, shedding a tear or two and knowing you’re in it together. No matter how much you try to manoeuvre it alone, the fact is that you don’t always have to be the braver one, and that reassurance from your partner is nothing but love.
The bottom line is that loving and being with someone when you’re fighting bigger demons in your head is not easy. I realised through these years that loving my partner wasn’t my biggest challenge but allowing him to takeover was what I struggled with. ‘I’m not weak,’ I told myself but was I not? I didn’t want him to feel that pain but fortunately he knew that every time he was pushed away was the time when I needed him the most. And that’s how we found love in just being there, being present, and being heard. The thing about love is that it surprises you when you least expect it. Who would have thought that sharing vulnerabilities becomes the core of a relationship that was built on the idea of bravery and strength? Here I am, 35, still struggling to fix my mental health but knowing that my evening chat over coffee with my husband will be about the number of meltdowns I had without any fear of judgement. If that’s not love, then what is it?
