A Letter on Living in Contradictions
My Dearest Friend,
This life moves like the tides—both beautiful and brutal, forever shifting between highs and lows. I love it. I love the friendships that form fast and last across miles, the community that steps in when you need it most, the purpose that steadies me when I start to wonder what it’s all for. And I hate it too—the solo parenting, the 2 a.m. phone calls, the way the unseen work of keeping a family afloat is quietly placed on our shoulders. Both are true. Both live inside me.
Looking Back
In the early years, the tide of resentment ran stronger. I hadn’t yet learned how to find community, and it was easier to see only the pieces I disliked. Deployments felt endless, loneliness closed in, and I couldn’t imagine what others meant when they spoke of the beauty in this life. At the time, it felt hidden from me.
Where I Stand Now
More than a decade later, the tide has shifted. I know how precious it is when a friendship takes root overnight and somehow endures across years and distance. I’ve felt the steadiness of belonging to something bigger than myself. But I also know the jolt of a phone ringing in the middle of the night, and the ache of realizing that even when Beloved is home, work will still pull him away. I know what it is to solo parent through sick days, school struggles, and sleepless nights. Bun and Bean bring some of my greatest joy, but being their constant caretaker also takes its toll. Joy and weariness ebb and flow together.
There are still expectations—rarely spoken but always present—that we will smile, show up, and hold it all together. I have learned that the heaviness does not erase the love, and the love does not erase the heaviness. Like the tide’s push and pull, both remain, shaping the life we carry.
The Lesson
What I’ve come to understand is this: loving this life and hating it at the same time does not make us ungrateful—it makes us whole. To delight in the friendships, the community, and the sense of purpose, while naming the exhaustion and invisible labor, is not weakness. It is permission—to let the tides of this life wash over you in their fullness, without apology.
To the Spouse Holding Both Truths
If you live in the in-between—proud yet resentful, joyful yet weary—remember that others walk this same shoreline too. Whether you are new to this journey or years into it, you are allowed to feel the ebb and flow. You can love what this life gives and still name what it costs. Your moments of hating it do not undo your love, and your love does not erase the weight you carry.
Both can exist. And in that tide’s rhythm, strength grows—sustained by community.
