I “called in sick” to the blog on Friday. I post three days a week and I intended to do a make-up post, but, I was sick much longer than I thought I would be.

It is not lost on me that when I get sick, I get to go to bed, just like my husband. This equality is not often allowed, or possible, in all homes. Scott stayed home one day, and I covered half of another, and then we called in our sitter. My sister came up and helped me for half of Saturday and so Scott ended up being able to play in his golf tournament, and then he took the kids the rest of the day. I started feeling better Saturday night, and so I took the kids Sunday morning and he took a three and a half hour nap to catch up. We basically took one kid each for the afternoon and then Sunday night our wonderful sitter came and put them to bed for us and we broke some budget rules and went out to dinner. Most of what we discussed was how grateful we are for each other’s support. It’s just easier to bask in the love of your spouse than it is to waste time whining about doing extra work that is simply unavoidable. We spent the weekend before last learning this lesson the hard way, and then this weekend was for the win. I am sure many remedial lessons will be necessary, but we are working at it.

When I’m not feeling appreciated, or I feel like we aren’t connecting, I bring it up. When it’s not received well, I keep at it. I take breaks, I bring it up again. I try to stay calm. If I lose my temper I tell him I need a break, leave the situation and I come back when I’ve settled. Same for him. Neither of us responds well to yelling. There are the exceptions out there, but mostly I find yelling and empty threats to be ineffective. I try to think about and present both sides. What I am feeling, and what I think he is feeling. Then I tell him to correct me if I am wrong. I ask him to tell me what he thinks I am feeling and why. To repeat what he has heard me say. We try to be kind, but we are also honest and we call each other on our BS.

When I need him to hold me, I tell him to. When I need to hear reassurance, I tell him to reassure me. If he is at a total loss, which he often is, then I leave him to think on it for a few hours, until the next time the kids are asleep, and then we try again. If he doesn’t have anything to say, I wait. I stare at him. I read my book. I watch TV. I don’t pretend everything is alright and I don’t ever give him the impression that I am okay with swallowing it into a meal of resentment to deal with later. He gets mad, he sulks, he tries, really hard, every time. Eventually we sort out everyone’s true feelings, we find the energy to help each other out until we both have gotten to a place where we can be compassionate again. This often requires a break from the kids for each of us to be alone with our own thoughts and to rest. So we take turns.

Mostly each argument lasts a few hours. In very rare cases (like a couple weeks ago) it takes a few days. But once it’s over, it’s over. We don’t bring up the past, because we are legitimately over it. We talk things through and we make sure that we both have reached a resolution. If something isn’t settled, we can sense it and one of us will bring it up right away. This is how we stay connected.

I’ve been watching the Office again. In case you aren’t, the main couple is in marraige counseling for an altogether typical, but typically dangerous, reason: failure to communicate. I feel the pull of it every day between us. The fictional couple has two young kids. So do most of my friends. It’s a dangerous time for marraige, I know we all feel it, because there are just too many things to do and enriching your relationship isn’t one of them. Everyone is tired, and not feeling their most generous, to say the least. Careers are at a head, people are getting laid off, moving from house to house, or dealing with the changing landscape of daycare, to preschool to kindergarten. Pumping at work, puzzling out tantrums and potty training, trying to appease your boss when your kids are sick, finding some kind of fulfillment somewhere in your day. It’s often just too much. It’s not only a struggle to keep sight of your own needs in the chaos, but it is the Death Star, the Temple of Doom, the epic battle of marriage. We just don’t often see it that way because the battle is fought over a marathon, not a sprint with a quick resolution and a happily ever after.

There just isn’t time for life’s little petty differences. Things that you would once hash out, you don’t even bring up. Energy is precious and arguing is an awful way to spend it. This is a good thing, if you are genuinely letting your partner off the hook for something because you can see how tired they are. But letting them off the hook when it comes to connecting and leaning on each other is the easy pile of straws that the camel gets buried under. It is hard to explain what it’s like for you, and what struggles and triumphs feel like on your side of things, and it’s hard to listen, when your partner’s experience feels like a report card of your performance. It often makes real logical sense just not to do it at all.

But whether we acknowledge this or not, we are not islands. We all need someone. My girlfriend called me today to cancel our playdate because she was so overwhelmed. She is such a rockstar that it is reassuring to hear that even the strongest of us gets tired and doesn’t know how to cope with it all. We ended up talking for over an hour while we did our respective tasks, phone squished from ear to shoulder. When it was done, and we had each heard someone else tell us they understood, and thought we were doing great, we both hung up with lighter shoulders. It doesn’t always have to be my husband that lends this support, but if he is at a distance, physically or emotionally, life just feels heavier. I think, that due to some recent losses, I am quicker to close that distance than others may be. I am anxious for it, in fact. I know myself and my tendency to build walls in those spaces. Scott and I have always approached intimacy and being in love as a living thing, not won, but kept and cared for.

Now, thanks to a few years in these trenches with him, I am quicker to begin the unpleasant process of resolving a difference than I once was. And it is unpleasant to say the least. When things do run aground and it takes days to untangle some small but deeply buried hurt, every other thing we had been hoping to accomplish is lost. The laundry isn’t done, there is no food in the house, we are exhausted and behind on Monday. Neither of us is sleeping well, and getting along seems even harder. But I know now that I don’t have to bear this load alone. Putting everything last and forcing our marriage to the top again, above sleep, above laundry, above everything that feels so necessary, gives us that. It gives us each other again. It’s worth it.

Once we break through and we are truly us again, things are wrapped up in double time. We are getting and giving to each other in kind, and passion is here again, that dream of a dream that seemed so recently out of reach. It’s raging and freshly breaking like ocean waves, feeding us strength and washing everything clean in it’s wake. Every day when he leaves and at night before we sleep, we come together, and linger. We are both hungered for and cherished, and it gets stronger, not weaker, each time we find it again. Connecting gives us that.