When “choosing joy” becomes selfishness

This Christmas season started off rough…Thanksgiving was simple but stressful, leaving me wonder how I was going to make it through the holiday season. I found myself decorating my Christmas tree in tears, only to be softly spoken to by God and reminded that joy can still be found in the darkest of times. I made a conscious choice then and there that for the rest of this season I would choose joy above all…to be happy, regardless of the stress or strife filling our home. I started looking for blessings…for joy in the “happy little bits of Christmas” {part 1 and part 2}. And even when the emotions of Christmas started to overwhelm me, I was able to look to God to hold me together. My faith was refreshed as I realized how Christmas has changed for me and become a more spiritual experience…one where I cannot help but celebrate the birth of the One who I want to praise with my entire being. I have pondered the life of Mary, continued traditions, baked cookies with my son, experimented with photography, and even squeezed in a date with my husband. It’s shaped up to be a pretty stellar Christmas season.

But this weekend, amidst wonderful celebration with family, meaningful gifts shared with each other, Christmas light displays, and holiday shopping…something dark was overshadowing it all.

A lack of communication and connection with my husband. 

I ignored it.

I’m choosing joy daggone it! Ain’t nobody gonna bring this girl down!

Choosing joy definitely has it’s place. It’s been a revolutionary and life-changing month. But there’s a fine line between choosing joy despite heartache and saying “screw you, be a grump, I don’t care! This girl is going to have a happy Christmas no matter what!”

What my husband has gone through over the last few weeks has been a lot less stellar than what I have gone through. His last week in his office was awful. There was frustration, miscommunication…thinking he was done with it all then being told he had to work another three days with people who hate him. People who will celebrate anything and anyone BUT him. There was no going away party, no “hey, we’ll miss you” send-off. No customary awards or military goodbyes. It just ended. The next day he moved to Rear Detachment and they went on like nothing happened.

On top of it all, he was working hard to study for an exam for a certification in a possible career field. He passed, but the test didn’t go nearly as well as he wanted. He was frustrated because he thought he knew the material better. He questioned and second-guessed it all, wondering yet again, “Is this what I’m supposed to do? I have no clue what I’m doing.”

He has a ticking clock in his brain that he cannot silence. Unemployment looms in the distance and fills his heart with terror. He just wants answers…direction. He’s so afraid of making the wrong step, taking the family he loves and is responsible to provide for in the wrong direction and leaving them stranded and it being all his fault. He feels so lost. 

Fear, hurt, depression, anxiety, confusion…that has been his last few weeks.

But I’m choosing joy daggone it! 

My attempts to draw him out of this swirling vortex of negative emotion haven’t gone over very well. And so, in the name of “choosing joy,” I quit trying. I gave up. Because I wasn’t going to let HIM ruin MY Christmas.

And so “choosing joy” turned into choosing selfishness…

After small little fights all weekend all revolving around the issue of “I don’t feel connected to you…” we went to therapy yesterday morning. We “just so happened” to have scheduled our appointments back to back. I had the 1000 slot, he had the 1100. And since we have the same therapist…Oh! How convenient!

We both aired our grievances, our side of the story. I got to go first. YAY!

“You just aren’t being connectable…”

“You aren’t pleasant to be around!”

“I don’t want to get drawn into your negativity!”

All true. But then it was his turn. First, there was anger…frustration. His felt that my feelings were all that matters and he always has to cave in to my side of things. Then there was the letting down, the sharing of all the fear that threatens him at every turn. The burdens that he carries.

I sat there ashamed…yet still holding onto a thread of indignity.

I didn’t say it, but I was thinking it. I carry those burdens too you know! You think it hasn’t escaped my mind that I might be homeless in 6 months either?!?!  

But then he said the words that changed it all:

“I feel ignored…I just want you to notice me.”

Ignored? Unnoticed? Is this what I have done? Have I purposely disconnected from him, shut him out, just so I can have this joy party on my own?

The communication gates flooded open. We talked and shared and figured stuff out. Somehow by the end of the session I was sitting on his lap, cuddling with him, and we were sharing sweet words back and forth. (Yes, our therapist believes in “cuddle therapy.”)

We walked out hand in hand feeling so much better. He said to me, “We were just a little cross-threaded is all…”

Last week a marriage thought came to me while I was teaching piano lessons. It came time to play a duet with one of my students. I never skip over the duet parts because 1) I enjoy playing them and 2) it teaches far different skills to the student. Playing a duet is so hard because you have to keep track of what you are doing, and doing it WELL, without letting your partner mess you up. Yet, you still have to work WITH your partner to create harmony.

It’s a balance.

No matter how great she plays the song on her own, every time we start a duet it’s a struggle. We have to start and restart and practice and struggle together. It doesn’t matter if I play my part flawlessly. I can’t just rush ahead and do my part so great while she struggles to catch up or have a part in the duet too. Otherwise, it’s not a duet.

Sometimes I struggle with my part too, as it’s all sight-reading. (I don’t practice these duets ahead of time.) Sometimes I have to stop because I was the one who made the mistake.

Growth in marriage…choosing joy in marriage…is a balance too. I can “play my part” flawlessly. Choose joy. Praise God. Get wrapped up in the holiday spirit and rush ahead. But my song won’t be beautiful. Because I’m part of a duet.

In piano lessons, sometimes I have to slow down and work my “perfection” into my student’s “imperfection.” And that means patience. That means a lot of stopping and restarting. That means a lot of disjointed harmony for a while. But that’s okay, because we are working on it.

And sometimes, I have to slow down to work my joy into my husband’s pain. Because I can’t expect him to be willing to “rejoice with them that do rejoice” if I’m not willing to “weep with them that weep.”