Our Unwritten Contract

We all have these. You know, the unspoken expectations we take in to a new relationship, job, friendship…The things we assume everyone knows, because we all think exactly the same and expect exactly the same and can all read each others’ minds.

Right?

No?

So, kind of like how my hubby has ESP and knows what I’m thinking and what I want and how I’m feeling.

No? Really?

So we go in to our marriages with these unwritten contracts. I did. I have dreamed about/planned/thought out how married life would be since I can remember. And yes, my way is the right way.

I won’t work. I’ll be a SAHM. My husband will have a great job and we won’t have to worry about money. We’ll vacation at Disney and the beach. I’ll be home room mom and volunteer at the school. I’ll cook and bake and have a perfectly decorated home. I’ll meet hubby at the door when he gets home from work with a kiss and dinner on the table.

That was my contract. To say it has been broken would be a little bit of an understatement. To say any of it is true…um. Well. No.

So, now that life has happened and choices that my hubby has made and choices that I have made and choices we have made together have our lives going in a completely different direction, I’ve rewritten the contract right? I’ve at least told hubby about the contract right?

No?

No. Because I still want those things. Those things that are out of my reach. Maybe just for now, but maybe forever. And it makes me sad. And being sad about it makes me feel guilty. Guilty for wanting things I don’t have. Guilty for not being thankful enough for what I do have.

I have a sober husband. I have healthy kids. I have a God that loves me and carries me through every day. How can I want more?

No, seriously, how can I want more?

I need to rewrite the contract. With my husband. I need to remind myself of what I do have and not what I don’t.

And I know, there will be people who read this and judge me. And I don’t care. I know I’m not perfect. I know I’m a work in progress. I struggle with this everyday. Some days are harder than others. Some days are…well…maybe not easy, but some days I’m more hopeful than others.

I do trust that God will provide. I also trust that if I make stupid choices, I can’t expect God to bail me out.

I’m starting on my part of the contract. And while it will include stuff about money and other tangible things, it’s going to be more about the intangibles. Love, trust, quality time, understanding, forgiveness, submissiveness…

You know. The important stuff.

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About angelastricklin

Thanks for stopping by! If you're on FB, follow me: www.facebook.com/lifewithgreeneyes Instagram @angelastricklin Twitter @angelastricklin Pinterest @Angela Stricklin I'm a wife, mom of three girls and one fur baby. By day, I'm an HR manager to pay for all things girly girl and occasional fur baby treats. I add things to my Amazon wish list instead of my cart because my girls cost All. The. Money. Instead of sleeping, you can find me writing about faith, marriage, parenting and my favorite things on Facebook , Twitter , Instagram , and Pinterest.
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2 Responses to Our Unwritten Contract

  1. LittleWife says:

    Ooh I liked this. So often I look at my “unwritten contract” and think my Hunky Husband is thinking it, too. I put words in his mouth, so to speak. I didn’t get the laundry folded and put away so he has to dig through a basket for underwear? Well, he must think I’m a terrible wife. I’ve made pizza for supper for the past three days? Well, he thinks I’m awful at providing for my family.

    And he doesn’t think those things at all! It’s all me! I’m hard on myself for not meeting expectations I hold *myself* to. We’ve had lots of arguments in the first year of our marriage that come down to, “I never expected that of you…” “No, I expect that of myself!”

  2. I hear you! My hubby gets home atleast a couple of hours before me (when I’m not traveling) and so he cooks most of the time, helps the kids with homework, does laundry…all the “wife” things I should be doing…And I feel so guilty and think he is mad at me…but he isn’t. He’s home, (he’s a better cook) and he is thankful for the life my job provides us.
    Some day I want to stop trying to live up to my own crazy expectations and realize he’s happy with me, just the way I am 🙂

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