A successful marriage

My husband always wakes up in a bad mood. Well, actually it’s not always nor exactly a bad mood, but he doesn’t like to talk the first hours of the day and stays often in bed till late. He says he needs to spend time alone as to recharge his “social ability”. What he calls sociophobia, I consider as “being boring”. And somewhat lazy.

My husband captivates everyone around him with the shining smile and eyes that bloom from his face when he’s happy. His non-stop fabric of dreams and his quest for making them come true are contagious. Sometimes I just cannot stop admiring his beauty: he wishes to improve the world with his unique gaze that resembles the ocean; from his sweet lips arise such eloquent advices and the most touching melodies.

My husband seems to suffer from bipolarity: at one moment he is melancholic, out of strength to go out or to do anything, and he even cries. A river. At others, he becomes energetic, he dances, speaks for hours, meets a bunch of people, has thousands of irreverent ideas, writes, transforms himself into a volcano in full creativity.

I cannot get him; how can he be so kind, attentive, vibrant, and all of sudden turns into such a boring and depressed person not willing to chat? During our engagement, I needed to hang out with friends, to drink for relaxing, to travel as to get some fresh air, taking new breath for overcoming his defects. At each new episode of his emotional reclusion, I would feel more and more lonely. It seemed that I couldn’t rely on him all the time.

Once I decided to marry him, I knew I would not only marry his contagious part, but also the contaminated one. I knew I would marry his bad mood, his melancholy, his new grey hair, his ever growing belly fat. I proposed myself to transform every deception of mine into a reception: I accept, respect and receive each of his moments of anger and sorrow, each scene of immaturity, of ignorance or of his chronic dissatisfaction, as a gift. Each one of them I convert into a poem, a drawing, a song, a sculpture. Each one becomes a declaration of love.

Since the day my husband put our wedding ring on my finger, I never suffered from loneliness again. Whenever I doubt, even if for a brief second, our love, I take the ring off. I look behind it for remembering the name of the person who since that day never abandoned me, whom I will never abandon, and who makes me happy even when sorrow arrives: me.