ASHLEY
I walked down the aisle with
my dad to the man I would spend the rest of my life with. I not only had the
privilege to walk with my dad, but then have him officiate my wedding. It is
still one of the sweetest memories I have with my dad. While officiating, my dad
gave us advice. It was something that he had learned from his nearly 30 years
of marriage to my mom. In the moment, I listened, nodded and went on to say my
vows, not really grasping or realizing how helpful that advice would be in the
next few years. I may have been a little too focused on how hot my husband
looked, getting to finally live with him, and getting ready to lay a big fat
‘ol kiss on him in front of my dad without feeling too guilty ;).
We still try to live by the
advice my dad gave even though some days are just a flat out struggle. One
piece of advice was “fight.” Don’t be afraid to create waves or conflict in
marriage, because if you don’t, if you choose to say silent, you will make
tidal waves. Five years in and Ashton and I still struggle on how to fight. I’m
more like a let me say it how it is,
sometimes raise my voice, let’s exaggerate the facts, don’t interrupt or mess
with me, and you better give me my space after, kind of fighter. And In my
opinion, Ashton is more gentle, a don’t
yell, let’s be realistic, let’s say exactly what happened, let me state the
facts, and can I kiss or joke with you after to make it all go away within two
minutes, kind of fighter. Basically, we are polar opposites while fighting.
Although it has come leaps and bounds since our first year of marriage it
something we work at every day. Communication is hard.
Here is just one example of
one of our early-on dysfunctional fights:
We had just had our first
daughter, Scotland, and Grandma offered to babysit so we could have a date
night. I was so excited my hormonal-self could hardly see straight. My husband
and I are both sports fanatics, so of course we chose to go to a baseball game.
Being very respectful of our budget, I went out, got a new cute outfit (colors
that matched the Mariners), shoes that matched the sports theme, cute new
non-maternity pants, did my hair, and (let’s just be real moms) I showered—showers
are few and far between when kids come. I was ready to hit the town with my
man. I was so excited for Ashton to get home from work so we could get going.
When Ashton came home it was clear to see he was distracted with work, on his
phone, getting phone calls, emails, etc. The rational side of me thought this:
he owns a business, is under a lot of stress, go easy on him. He’ll notice my
freshly washed and curled hair when he looks up. The irrational part of me
thought, if he looks at that flipping phone one more time I’m going to throw it
in the microwave and give our kid her first firework show. When we finally got
out the door Ashton, still looking at his phone, asked if I could drive to
Seattle so he could work on the way. That’s when, I’m just going to say it,
shit hit the fan. When he looked up to see my response or lack thereof, he knew
I was hurt, angry, and all of the above. He quickly jumped in the driver’s seat
and started driving. At that point I was over it. Angry, hungry, and over it. I
was Hangry. I stayed silent the whole drive and the whole Mariners game. I had
been so excited to go on a date with my husband, have him tell me how pretty I
looked, ask me questions about my day, talk to someone other than a baby, buy
me garlic fries, and maybe end the night with Dippin’ Dots. Instead, I let it
ruin my whole night and I settled for a salmon Caesar salad. Nothing compared
to garlic fries. I had let a small fight turn into a night of silence and
tears. I had ruined a date night at a point in our lives where they were few
and far between.
ASHTON
Boy do I remember that fight.
When I asked her to drive and looked up for her response I am fairly certain
that I was not going to make it through the night. I was a goner. However, that
was not going to stop me from trying. I went into fix-it mode overdrive.
“Honey, I am sorry.” “Honey, I am really busy at work.” I am not sure what else
came out of my mouth but I know it started with, “Honey.” Then I tried a little
bit of “feel bad for me” defense. “I got off early and it is just emails and
you know I have to work.” “It really is not that big of a deal.” The hole I was
digging was getting deeper and wider with each passing mile-marker. I think she
said she wanted to turn around and go home by the half-hour mark.
Ashley said it right. She
wanted to go home and she was not going to have fun that night no matter
what. We were both wrong—me more than
her. I get caught up in work. I feel as if I have to answer that last email. I
must make sure everything is perfect. The good side of that is I am successful.
The downside is the attention and energy this sucks out of me. Whether I say it
out loud or not, I far too often rely (most of the time in my head) on my wife
needing to be more understanding of my job. For gosh sakes, I work hard. I make
money that allows us to live in the home we do, go to the games, etc. How could
Ashley not see this?
See, my sin of choice is
often self-idolatry. My backward thinking often leads my mind down the path of
what “I” have done or what “I” have accomplished. This doesn’t take into
account my bride’s contribution, and it also completely eviscerates God’s
contribution. My family has a home because God allows it. Money ends up in my
bank account because God allows it. It is fights like this with Ashley that
help level me back out. I was wrong when it came to preparing for date night. I
was wrong for not focusing on our night out. I was wrong for not making sure my
wife knows that she is a supermodel in my eyes. I was wrong.
ASHLEY
Although we still struggle,
Ashton and I have come leaps and bounds from this type of fight. I know that I
would rather not ruin a whole night with him and stay angry at something that
can be resolved fairly quickly. I am blessed with a husband who listens when
something makes me angry, sad, hurt, or happy. He is quick to apologize when he
is in the wrong—which I know is difficult for a lot of people, including
myself. Learning how to fight is still a struggle for us every day. But we work
on it. We communicate. And we pray.
Don’t ever stop praying. Currently, I’m trying to practice what I preach…when all
I really want to do is cuddle on the couch tonight and watch Monday Night
Football—but Ashton wanted to go for a long run on the treadmill. He is now
running on the treadmill and I am having a glass of wine watching football. By
myself. ‘Nuf said.
Our Final Thoughts
Keep fighting: There is no
perfect way to fight. What is important is that you do it and then in the good
times circle back to it. Work to understand the others position. If it just
causes another fight you have not worked through it and you need to get to the
bottom of it. These things take time. Engage help of a counselor or trusted
couple if needed. Another important
aspect is to fight fair. Set the
boundaries. It goes unsaid that we do
not swear at one another. We engage and
have discussions in front of our children but do not all out fight. We try our best to stay away from permanent
terms, like, “you always”, “you never”.
We do not put down or criticize one another in front of the
children. This list is not exhaustive
but discuss the boundaries as it will make for a fair playing field.
Pray: Do this for one another.
Out loud and together. Pray for your spouse’s wellbeing, and pray that you are
able to learn from your mistakes. We pray together each night when we go to
bed. We have the same schedule so it works for us. If you do not go to bed at
the same time as your spouse, find another time you can do this.
Learn: This is not the only
time we had this fight. However, after a few times we sat down and discussed
it. “Why do we keep having this fight?” “What hurt you?” Ashton realized that a
few hours of total focus on his bride while enjoying a beer and French fries
will make her month. Not just day, but
month. Ashley has learned to forgive. When these situations arise she
expresses her frustration and verbalizes her hurt. “We planned date night and
you hurt me by not paying any attention and asking me to drive just so you
could be on your phone.” Sitting angry
and silent on the way to the game (and throughout) led to a fake-smile selfie
for Facebook and barely a kiss goodnight. We were both miserable. Ashley realizing
she can control her outlook has limited these situations in the future.
