Will and I got into a big fight in Mendoza, Argentina just as we arrived. It’s not unusual for Will and I to fight after a long, frustrating travel experience (in this case, 5 hours waiting in line at the Chile/Argentina border), but this was different – it needed more than sleep. It needed a solution.
Will was mad at me. Six weeks abroad, I had fallen into the habit of voicing everything that was bothersome and not voicing anything that was going well. “Why are we in THIS immigration line?” “It would have been better if we got those bus seats.” “Why are these other people so annoying?” “Next time let’s do it this way…” No doubt, I was in a little bit of a funk. I felt like we were traveling too fast. I didn’t have any down time. I was relying on Will’s Spanish too much. The shampoo we brought was leaving some sort of gunk in my hair that made my scalp hurt. We were seeing and doing amazing things, and I was having an incredible time…but I was a little grumpy too.
One thing I took for granted as a single person was that my emotions didn’t usually affect anyone else. If I was in a bad mood, as long as I wasn’t harassing other people, my bad mood only affected me. Now, married and on the road, when I say anything that suggests I’m not happy, my husband stresses about it. And there is no reprieve, such as going to work or the gym or on some errands. We are together all the time, so he has no way to ignore me.
After some talking, arguing, and defensiveness on both sides, I learned that Will needed to know what I was enjoying about the trip. Even when I’m enjoying things, I don’t always say it. But I need to – and on a regular basis. In return, I needed him to listen to some of my legitimate concerns. It was possible to slow down our pace. I could have more down time. We are the only ones controlling our schedule. We committed to both of these things and then sealed the deal with beer and empanadas.
I hadn’t really felt this phenomenon in reverse until we got to Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe. We knew we were going to the falls in low season, which means much of it is dry. We knew this was good because Will wanted to go rafting, and the rafting is better in low water. But when we got to the actual falls, and saw how much more area they usually cover, Will was disappointed.
“Ugh! This is why I don’t have expectations for anything,” Will lamented. I did a double take at the enormous waterfall we were standing in front of. Was this lame? There was no way this was lame, and yet I was starting to feel sad because Will was sad.
I realized that this is what Will was feeling in South America whenever I expressed dissatisfaction. I tried to cheer him up – pointing out everything that was awesome about our experience at Victoria Falls. He eventually perked up, remembering all the reasons why it was good we came during dry season (like Devil’s Pool!) and seeing the awesomeness of the waterfall even at its driest.
With roles reversed, I gained new appreciation for the impact each of us has on each other. When you are together all the time, with very little interaction with other people, your moods become intertwined. Sometimes this requires actively seeking out the positive for the sake of your spouse. Sometimes this requires listening and responding to legitimate concerns that can make or break an experience for the other person. It’s easy to get annoyed with the fact that your mood and choices can devastate another person’s experience – we all want the freedom of our feelings. But if you can let that go, and commit to caring how you affect the other person, the higher stakes will force you out of your funk and help you enjoy your experiences to the fullest.
You can find the first installment of Marriage on the Road here.