I used to think that getting married would magically erase all those strange and sometimes awkward dreams I had about past relationships. You know, the ones where I’m kissing an ex or dating a bizarre mix of old flames? My friend, with a knowing look, shook her head and said, “Oh sweetie, those dreams don’t just vanish when you tie the knot.” I must’ve sounded pretty naïve. Why did I believe that marriage could transform my mental landscape?
In my single days, I viewed marriage as the ultimate solution: “Once I’m married, I’ll never feel lonely again. I’ll finally have a sense of purpose. My anxiety will disappear! I’ll connect effortlessly with others and won’t feel awkward at parties. I won’t dwell on past loves.” Reality check: none of that happened. Sure, I’m happier and feel more secure, but thinking that marriage would erase all the angst and worries was wishful thinking. I still tear up when a song reminds me of a past relationship, and my dreams still echo the bittersweet nature of life.
Just last week, I dreamt of making out with a guy whose face I couldn’t quite place. In the dream, we were both young—maybe teenagers—and when I woke up, the rush of innocent joy hit me like a ton of bricks. I realized I’d never feel that way again.
Some people go a bit wild before their weddings—like hitting a club or making impulsive decisions. Not me. I’d waited a long time to say “I do,” and the idea of committing to one person didn’t frighten me. But at times, as I navigate the responsibilities of adulthood, I feel a twinge of fear that the exciting beginnings of life are behind me. I’m now in the middle phase, and soon enough, it’ll be the end.
If marriage is like sealing the fate of your youth and freedom, then having kids is like driving the final nail into that metaphorical coffin. (Of course, I mean this lightly; I hear coffins come with all sorts of fancy latches nowadays.) Nothing quite emphasizes your own mortality like parenting. As Jerry Seinfeld humorously noted, “I adore my baby, but let’s be clear: these little ones are here to replace us.” The thrill of new discoveries now belongs to my child, and I’ve passed the torch of youth on to him.
There are still joys ahead that aren’t tied to youth: improving my home, watching my son grow, and nurturing deep-rooted relationships. Yet, it’s a strange and poignant experience to witness my own aging. I can intellectually grasp that years have flown by, but in dreams, I can vividly relive the bliss of finding a new lover. Dreams serve as a reminder that I am both my current self and an eternal emotional being. It’s a bit daunting to imagine that ageless self trapped in a body that’s aging, longing to break free.
This was the same self that bristled when a bright student corrected my spelling. In a rush, I had clumsily scribbled “r-h-i-n-o-s-e-r-o-u-s” on the board. I felt embarrassed; I knew better! Despite my many quirks—being unathletic, anxious, irritable, and somewhat socially awkward—I pride myself on my spelling skills. I was even a contender in the National Spelling Bee! I envisioned myself as the ultimate Spelling Monarch, reigning supreme. And suddenly, this young prodigy, a mere 12-year-old on his way to the National Bee, swooped in and knocked me off my pedestal.
Just like that, the student became the teacher. I fell from grace, protesting and stumbling, which is pretty much how I feel about aging in general. But the beauty of marriage is having someone to share these moments with, to confront fears together. “I misspelled ‘rhinoceros,’ I’ll never have a new romantic adventure, my knees creak when I climb stairs, and I can’t remember anything!” I confess, and my partner just squeezes my hand. He gets it.
If you’re curious about more relatable experiences and insights into parenting and relationships, check out this blog post on dreams and emotional growth. Also, for those on the journey of parenthood, this resource provides invaluable information on pregnancy and home insemination, while another link offers tips on fertility boosters.
Summary:
Marriage doesn’t eliminate the strange dreams or emotional struggles from the past. As we navigate adulthood, the joys of youth transform but don’t disappear. With partners to share our fears and experiences, we find comfort in the journey of life, even as we face the bittersweet reality of aging.