This is the first day of my life.... Or... Our luckiest number

So it's been a month of married life already?

I am a married woman. Officially. I feel the same. Married, but the same. Is this a problem?

All around me I have been asked:

"AREN'T YOU SO HAPPY ALL THE TIME NOW?!?!"

"HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE MARRIED?!?!"

I don't think men get this question...but there is ALOT of pressure in the response. I once said "It's pretty good" and got the reaction of sheer terror and shock.  Pretty good is apparently not good enough. 

The emotional roller coaster that is my life continues while I try to make sense of it 

all. My sadness for those without a voice, the anger over injustices...yup, still all there. 

Sometimes I cry, sometimes I don't know why. Other times I am joyful, worried, angry, scared, hungry.... I am Emilie, and I like her. 

While I rejoice at having a wonderful partner that loves, supports, listens, enjoys my cooking, at the end of the day, whether I am happy or not all comes down to if I love myself. 

While I believe it's possible to meet that one person and only ever be in a relationship with that person...

I am so thankful that I have learned this lesson for myself and can try not to repeat it. Relationships are great, marriage/partnerships are wonderful, but if you hate who you see in the mirror, the only person who can fix that is yourself (and maybe your therapist). 

So it goes...The belief that married = happy, single = sitting at home with a carton of ice cream. 

You know... I have known some pretty miserable marrieds...

I am looking forward to husband getting off work in a half hour, but would kind of love some pistachio gelato right now as I lounge in bed with my laptop and some Badly Drawn Boy.

Speaking of BDB and uncontrollable weeping...LISTEN!!!!

TEAR! This song gets me every time.

I spent what was supposed to be a romantic getaway weekend at Disney getting sick. Yuck! I am done being dizzy and am able to look at a computer screen without feeling woozy for the first time in days. 

Last night was 4 hours of tossing and turning thanks to antibiotic induced insomnia. 

So today I slept in, cleaned, made some food for the week, kept telling myself to rest and to stop doing chores. 

And then I read the news and watched a few documentaries on Netflix.... DUN DUN DUN!!!!

Yes, it leads to feistiness, it leads to tears for something I can do practically nothing about. But I don't understand how I am not supposed to weep for those who are robbed of their rights. 

Being in a loving/healthy relationship has renewed my sorrow for those who can not marry and that there are still groups of people out there fighting to strip human beings of their dignity and self worth. 

I cry because women who go to planned parenthood for preventative care are hookers in the eyes of influential TV ummm entertainer? I cry because my CHRISTian brothers and sisters are spending their weekends thinking up new ways to spread hate instead of acceptance and the true meaning of Christ and the church. I cry for the girls raised in patriarchal families who are told they have no role or meaning in life other than to marry and reproduce. 

I read a comment on one story that said "If conservative Christians are saying they will choose to call gays 'sodomites' and 'anti-Christians' because it does not imply that they deserve rights like the term gay, I choose to call them xtians because they do not deserve the name of Christ in their title." 

Well.... I cry because no matter what I believe on these topics, I understand that each individual is allowed their opinion...No matter how biased, judgmental or wacky their beliefs may seem to me, if I condemn based on others views I am no better myself. 

Because, you know what.... I can guarantee that someone might stumble upon this and think I am going to burn in hell, and I am ok with that. I am ok with me, pleased with my life, and content in my beliefs. 

So I suppose I should shut up and answer the question...

OF COURSE I AM HAPPY! I have never been happier than to know I get to spend the rest of my days with the love of my life, best friend, and co-writer of a kick ass folk song about a serial killer chainsaw artist. 

Yup, See that, no longer trying to conquer the world on my own.

As long as there is a hand to hold... I know there is someone there to hold me, lift me up and support me. 

Let's just not think of tragic dismemberment...