Today is the eve of our 9th anniversary. And it isn’t anywhere good. The pressure of the exhausting summer finally took its toll on us. Last week, I detonated. I’ve been whining how tired I am, despite knowing that my workload isn’t anywhere near your workload.
Earlier tonight, you approached me. You were apologetic about the fact that you have overlooked our wedding anniversary tomorrow when you were scheduling my classes. Though I shrugged it off, the way I did it made you feel like you committed a heinous crime. And then we started our argument again about work. I whined again how extremely tired I already am, again not minding that you work 75% more than me.
Just as I have realized I was acting immaturely and selfishly, a more pressing and shocking matter caught our eye: another “casualty” of this hectic season. As I tried to troubleshoot it, guilt immediately followed my shock and sadness.
I felt guilty because I just let you lift the heavy load of this season, without offering any help. I let you do all the dirty work. And as usual, you’re painted as the villain while my character remains unscathed.
I couldn’t help but think: perhaps if I shared your load, you’d have less worries, less stress, and more time. Perhaps you’d have been more charming, more sociable, more patient, more lovable.
But honestly, I don’t even want to imagine sharing your workload. Because I know how heavy it is. I remember how even someone as workaholic as Reg expressed disbelief on how you are able to accomplish the things you do.
It pains me to realize how unfairly you’ve been treated or painted by people, especially because I was at the helm of these unfair people. While you carry a dozen of sacks, I force you to walk and keep up with me while I carry only two ecobags. And I would berate you for grimacing out of pain, because I wanted the people’s approval of us walking together.
I’m having second thoughts publicizing what should be my private letter to you–this is so emotional and raw–but it’s high time I acknowledge you this season. It’s the least I could do after all you’ve done.
To the people who admire or like me, I need you to know that I wouldn’t be what or who I am if Randy were not my husband. I may be the “kind” one in your eyes, but he’s really the “good” one. In fact, I may only be “kind” because I don’t like conflicts and just avoid them when I can. Or because I still haven’t learned the true meaning sacrifice.
A rock is jagged and hard. It is painful to lean on. Nevertheless, it is solid, steady and durable. On a stormy night at sea, you can rest peacefully when a big rock has got your back.
Babe, thank you for being my and many other people’s rock. You may be jaggged and hard, but you’re always good and dependable. I’m sorry for casting a shadow on you, for putting gloom on your spot that people no longer appreciate you.
I pray that I could finally be the partner you deserve, so people could see how great you are. It’s so difficult, but I hope I could.
I know you better than anyone else, and I’m honored to be your wife.
Despite everything, I hope we still have a happy 9th anniversary tomorrow. I love you!
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