Happy

I think a lot of women I've come across have their ideas of what marriage should be like, and most of it can be captured in a Pinterest board labelled "Someday..." There are mason jar centerpieces filled with baby's breath, tied with burlap ribbon, wine barrels as gift tables, silhouettes of couples gazing at one another adoringly as dusk settles over them. A sleepover with your best friend everyday, someone in your corner at all times, someone's hand to hold when life gets overwhelming--this is marriage.

Pinterest-ready. (Photo courtesy of Lauren Alisse Photography)

Indeed, I'd say the first seven days or so were exactly as media and society had promised me. Maybe it had to do with the fact that we were staying here:

The Sheraton, Maui (Photo courtesy of me sticking my iPad out the hotel room balcony)

Our wedding took place on a beautiful, 80-degree day, and we were surrounded by loving and supportive family and friends. The honeymoon was a week of snorkeling, horseback riding, ziplining, amazing food, and enjoying each other's company. And then we came home, and in the course of a week, as M moved in his belongings, my beautiful contemporary townhouse took on signs that a surfer now lived here:

Surfboard in kitchen

Wetsuit and beach towel in shower

And worst of all, this:

The Couch.

The Couch. The Couch that M insisted was essential to his happiness in our new home together. My own sofa was a beautiful baby blue with a hint of turquoise, an expensive microfiber that maybe was somewhat uncomfortable, due to narrow seat cushions. The important thing, though, was that my sofa perfectly matched the livingroom accents I had set up as decor. M, however, enjoys using logic--almost as a weapon, I'd say-- listing the reasons that his couch was a necessary replacement: 1) My kitchen stools didn't have backs, and my chaise didn't have arms, so he had no place to comfortably sit in the entire downstairs of our townhouse, 2) his couch was long enough to fit his entire body so he could take post-surf naps, while his feet hung over my old sofa, 3) he'd enjoy snuggling with me more while watching TV on his couch, whereas my sofa would impede our quality time together, etc. etc. Usually, M will allow me to fight his logic with my emotional pleading, but this was one thing he wouldn't back down on. Since I'd never seen that before, I allowed the Salvation Army to adopt my precious microfiber baby and welcomed M's couch into our livingroom with all the warmth of someone unready to be a stepmother.

My immediate next step was to throw a couple of IKEA bedspreads on the thing and tuck in the corners, topped with a crochet blanket and two fancy pillows, but it was an obvious stop-gap solution. I was surprised by how much my new environment affected me. I always considered myself someone able to see the big picture, to appreciate the more important things, like a husband as loving and supportive as M. The old, single Joyce would slap the new, married Joyce with words like, "Three years ago, you were considering feral cat adoption to stave off loneliness! Be thankful it's just a couch!"

But the couch somehow felt more like a harbinger of a new, unsettling era: my life decisions are no longer my own. I can't just spend my time and money the way I want to...M's input actually matters. All my decisions have suddenly become mutually exclusive: selfless or self-centered. Coming home on time to help prepare dinner, spending our--not my--money on make-up vs. groceries, crossing things off a to-do list vs. spending quality time with my husband...all the things I used to manage without thinking now have an impact on someone else if I don't think through my choices. When consciously deciding what we're willing to give up, M and I find ourselves in a new economy of compromises, where the currency takes the form of requests and concessions, motivated (theoretically) by our love for one another.

What I'm trying to say is, Pinterest does not adequately prepare you for marriage.

Last night, M and I watched a documentary on happiness, aptly titled Happy. It investigated the principles of positive psychology, stating that 50% of our happiness is decided by our genetic makeup, 10% is decided by our circumstances (money, status, relationship, etc.), and 40% is decided by deliberate choices we make in order to achieve happiness. It followed the real life stories of people all over the world, in all kinds of societies. The things that really seem to make people happy are trying new things, or new ways to do old things, finding community with family, neighbors and friends, exploring their true selves by pursuing interests and passions (achieving "flow" while being in the zone), and finally, by giving back to the world. One volunteer at one of Mother Teresa's Missions explained, as he carried a man with missing limbs to his bed, that his life was just a loan from God, and he was paying back the loan with interest. He didn't want to just be happy, but to be meaningfully happy.

As M went to bed, and I stayed up, uploading wedding pictures to Facebook (obvi), I thought a lot about the documentary and how much one can do, deliberately, to be grateful, to be happy. Giving back to the world in the context of marriage, to me, meant giving to M selflessly--my time, my attention, my decision-making, and that we would, together, do the same for others. To be meaningfully happy.