An engagement ring is a glittering symbol of commitment and betrothal-to-be, but it’s also a sign that having someone to lean on, and letting someone lean on you, is a big and bold change for the better.
“Marriage changes things”, they said. I just didn’t expect it to change me so much.
A long-time work colleague used to refer to me as the “Duracell Bunny”. I had a tendency to attack any and all tasks with the enthusiastic ferocity of that fluffy rabbit we all knew and loved in those advertisements for batteries.
I’ve retained some of that, but have become a little more measured in the past six months and I know what it is: it’s marriage.
Well, the one that’s just round the corner for us, not the entire societal institution. It’s been a surprising revelation for me, to notice my own pace of life slowing from panic to pleasurable. I’m sure there are a lot of reasons for it, but the biggest shift has happened since I started wearing that unexpected rock round my finger.
As we begin charting our way towards that aisle, I’ve realised that a lot of the panic-prance-fast-march I’d adopted as a life strategy was rooted in trying to keep up, and not let anyone down. But as life will always show you, sometimes you need to lean a little on other people. Life sure showed me, as I’ve learnt to love to lean on him.
Just as I’ve learnt to lean, I’ve let him lean too. Learning to make space for him to do so was strange at first, because I’d never really got to that point in every sphere of life with anyone – I’d always kept something to one side, just for me, selfishly. But as we’ve navigated our way towards seven years of being together, and with a wedding in the works, another thing has happened: I’ve slowed down.
That flat panic I used to feel when things-to-do landed before me has dissipated. I’m taking more time to consider things, before hurtling headfirst into work or other pursuits. I’m no longer acting as though everything is urgent (it’s not!) and, somewhere, I’ve discovered that making flippant choices and throwing caution to the wind is not my mode of life transportation now.
In many ways, I’ve learnt to hold life more, because I’m not holding it alone anymore. The almost-smooth routines of our days together, and the regular “what shall we watch tonight?” conversations have become part and parcel of this life we continue to build together.
Feeling secure in the knowledge that he’s not half-contemplating hotfooting it out the door (that was all in my head, I know) has made me appreciate his funny ways even more. This foundation of a life feels strong, and for that, I am intensely grateful.
But in that slowing down, I haven’t just found a nice and comfortable spot in life’s sun. It’s had different effects on other aspects of my life too, as work no longer sends me reeling into a panic, but I’m instead feeling more confident in my abilities to tackle the things that used to feel like bumps.
And, in parenting, knowing that the circle of people who surround my child is strongly constructed and filled with love is a sublime realisation. It’s a good thing I’ve slowed down enough to notice this.
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