The Mad Hatter told Alice that she was much more muchier- that she had lost her muchness. I’ve felt this so profoundly at points in my life. Mostly, at the end of, or immediately following the demise of a relationship.
How could I make Sus and Doug’s anniversary ode about me? Well, because I’m muchier, of course, and if we are all being honest, we would admit that we only know and understand the world by reference, by comparison, and by context.
My relationships always demanded of me a shrinking. It was overtly or subliminally suggested that I make myself smaller to suit my partners. I can’t say that I went along with this happily, but I can assure you that I did so in deference to my relationship. I would make sacrifices and if I did, I would be able to relish the fruits of my labor.
It took me a long time, well over three decades, to learn that this is not the way. It took me ages to pay attention, to think to observe Sus and Doug to understand what it looks like to develop and maintain and nurture a relationship that is complicated, but rewarding.
Part of the reason it took me so long is because I clung to an idealized view of love for years, which is why I squished myself into so many teeny spaces set aside for me. I had this singular vision of love as something that was only magical and sparkly and endlessly balanced. For me, a good relationship meant peace and therefore, a great relationship meant keeping the peace, and therefore, a special and everlasting relationship meant doing anything you needed to do in order to preserve that peace.
I didn’t understand that peace can be fickle and even when present, comes at a cost. Not one that is staggering or even unreasonable. Rather, a cost that is carefully weighed and considered. A cost that is pondered and determined to be exactly the right expenditure for such an end.
I didn’t really understand that the cost looks like misunderstandings and heartache, challenges and obstacles, and sometimes, a necessary silence.
I didn’t really understand as a younger woman that what makes that peace so precious is not its perfection, but rather, its value. The price that two people are willing to pay in order to find a space that is wholly theirs and unquestionably safe.
I have seen Sus and Doug struggle and celebrate, laugh and cry, win and lose. I have seen them lift each other up when demanded and mostly, when needed and not asked for at all.
I have been a witness to their fiery commitment and undying loyalty and enviable friendship.
And you see, that’s really the thing. And people say it and no one subscribes to it, because these days it feels trite and old-fashioned. Find your friend is the thing that they say. And they did, Sus and Doug. They found their best friend. And not a friend that overlooks all of your flaws and gently dusts the pedestal on which you stand. Oh no. A friend that sees every lump and bump, every insecurity and weakness, and looks you directly into the eyes and says, yes, I know, but I love you anyway. And more than that, I like you, anyway.
Doug cooks fantastically elaborate meals, polishes rocks, sands large misshapen pieces of wood, listens to bizarre sci-fi podcasts, and reads dense mostly unfunny novels.
Sus artfully arranges flowers, mostly avoids cooking, quilts, attends a myriad of plays and shows with me, listens to rom coms, and watches K dramas.
They are supremely different and surprisingly alike.
They have rented and purchased homes, raised two daughters, had long and storied careers (that still continue, amazingly), and always, over the course of their fifty years together (though I can only reliably attest to 45ish), have always given each other space for their very own kind of muchiness.
If that is not the mark of a splendid relationship, I truly do not know what is. So in the end, I am intensely grateful to both of them for showing me what love actually looks like- it’s not perfection, but something better.
So on this milestone, I celebrate their individual and joined muchiness. May they both be muchier, together, for many years to come.
May we all find someone or something, perhaps even something within us, that ensures we never lose our muchiness.
X
L.
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