The bathroom is filled with steam and I'm drying off my hair. My husband is away at a conference for the week and I'm getting ready for bed, enjoying the peacefulness of an empty house.
Three sharp panicked barks ring out. It's our dog Lucy, and that's her warning voice laced with fear.
An icy wave washes over me as I realise I've left the front door unlocked. Is there an intruder? I quietly creep over to the closed bathroom door, and strain my ears for the sound of footsteps. The only sound is the washing machine whirring round and round on a spin cycle. No chance of hearing anything over that! Lucy barks several more times and, thump! I hear her jump off the couch.
Why is Chuck never around when I need him?!?
I quickly run through some grappling moves and choke holds in my head (handy having a husband who studies Brazilian Jiu Jitsu!) and arm myself with a can of air freshener to improvise as mace. With a deep breath, I throw open the door.
I scan the living area and spot Lucy standing by the washing machine, begging me with her eyes to come over. It turns out the only 'intruder' is the stream of water running across the kitchen floor. The washing machine is leaking—yes, definitely out of the ordinary. Thanks for the warning, Lucy!
I turn off the machine, throw down a towel and flop on the couch. Out of habit, I mentally relive the last few minutes, analysing my state of mind and reactions, searching for areas to improve my mental performance under pressure.
And then I realise—in that moment, I had blamed the whole situation on Chuck.
Meeting Mr. Incompatible
Chuck and I met in slightly unusual circumstances for beginning a lifetime relationship. An American (in case you hadn't guessed by the name), Chuck was visiting New Zealand on a surfing holiday and happened to be in the same small coastal town as I was for a New Year's Eve. We ran into each other in a bar, met up for coffee the following day and I walked down the aisle 15 months later, resulting in Chuck being awarded NZ residency.
That was over three years ago, and we haven't looked back. Ahem. Ok, maybe not true.
Chuck and I used to argue ALL THE TIME. It would spark from a mundane topic and end in fighting over who would get Lucy if we broke up.
We were (and still are) total opposites on how we view life. Chuck lives in the present without much thought for the future. He envisioned settling in life with a petite blonde who loved spontaneous adventures and had a gypsy soul. I live in the future without much thought for the present and imagined an independent, stable partner, who pushed me to succeed.
At just under two years of marriage, we started relationship counselling. From totally different backgrounds, we had quickly realised we were on different wavelengths. In our first session, our counsellor told us that 10% of couples he sees are incompatible.
"Yep, that's us," I thought. We're part of that unfortunate 10% that's going to spend hundreds on a counsellor only to go separate ways. Future me was upset at the loss of dollars. Chuck was annoyed that I was counting future pennies rather than being present in the moment.
Puppy therapy
Our counsellor chuckled when we told him we'd bought a puppy. He commented on a trend he'd noticed of couples getting a pet when their relationship is in trouble (now I can't look the same at any couple with a dog! Judgmental right?!)
There weren't really any light bulb moments through our nine months of counselling. There were no sudden changes of behaviour or instant flashes of understanding. But looking back, I can see that we both slowly made small modifications that greatly enhance our relationship.
Our relationship is still not easy and a bit of me sometimes still wonders if we're just incompatible, but I think God has made our marriage that way for both of us on purpose.
We fight and then we humble ourselves with each other.
We pray earnestly and rely on God to love each other unconditionally.
We consciously re-write our own internal dialogue that places blame on the other.
Chuck is both annoyingly and wonderfully made up of all the qualities I don't possess and I hope our children, one day, get all the good bits of him and me.
And I also hope that one day, Lucy learns to differentiate between 'stranger' and 'strange water on the floor'.
Claire Debrois grew up in Feilding, New Zealand, and holds a communications degree in public relations from Massey University. She lives with her husband in Wellington and works in account management for a web design company. She enjoys keeping fit and active, and is a field engineer in the Army Reserves.
Claire Debrois' previous articles may be viewed at http://www.pressserviceinternational.org/claire-debrois.html