Roller Coasters and Peaceful Retreats
My husband loves roller coasters. That's an understatement. He is passionate about them. He loves the design, the feeling of flying and the speed. He gets as excited as a little kid when we go to amusement parks and he was bummed out when he didn't get to be one of the first riders of the new coaster at Kings Island, here in Cincinnati. He's been skydiving. He loves a good thrill.
I'm not as much of a fan. I like roller coasters, as long as they don't jostle me around too much. I get nervous about the ride up and the long ride down. I imagine all of the terrible things that could happen if the ride breaks. What if I fall out? What if the ride gets stuck and we have to climb down on the tiny ladders? I'd rather stay on the ground and watch him ride.
This is a metaphor for our lives. My husband is a steady, realistic person. He likes excitement, but he chooses his thrills. He invites them in. He even creates his own, through his companies. He provides unique experiences for his customers.
I'm an emotional roller coaster. I live through ups and downs all the time. They are internal. They do not come from the outside world or other people. I create them in my own mind. I ride the waves of my own emotions and they take me to very exciting, or terrifying places. My husband has been privy to this for eleven years. I keep waiting for him to get tired of it, but he never does. He even likes it, most of the time. I'm exciting, to him.
I'm his personal roller coaster. He's my grounding force. Emotionally, he stays in the same place. He's rational, even and moderate. He brings me back to a stable place. If I'm down, he lifts me up. If I'm up, he reminds me to come back down.
It's a balancing act. When he gets stressed, I try to provide a calm place to rest. When he's happy, I try to join him. When he's really down, or at least as down as he gets, I'm usually up and try to take him with me. We've done this dance for a long time. It works pretty well, but make no mistake, we are human.
We aren't always in sync. If we're both stressed, we can do the opposite of what the other person needs. It isn't a dramatic thing, but it does happen. I say the wrong thing, at the wrong time. We don't listen closely enough, because our internal monologues are too loud. It's like when the members of a band aren't quite on the same beat, or slightly out of tune. We usually recognize it quickly and fall back into our rhythm, but sometimes it takes a while.
Right now, we're both working hard on our personal and family goals. We're hyper focused on our missions. He is preparing for the sixth Bunbury and his new event, Brandemonium. Bunbury's schedule will be announced today. Brandemonium is still new. He's working hard to ensure that everything goes as planned.
I'm preparing for our older son's first grade assessment. I'm gathering his portfolio so that it can be judged by a certified teacher. This is a state requirement. It's important, only because the law says it is. I'm absolutely confident that Soren has met and surpassed the requirements of first grade. However, the proof is in the pudding. I love tests and being judged, because I do well. Soren will, too, but there's a tiny voice in my head that says, 'What if the certified teacher can't recognize how far my little boy has come in just one year?'
We all have self-doubt. I know my husband is confident in his festival and new event, but what if it rains? What if a band cancels at the last minute. What if no one buys beer? What if ticket sales aren't what they should be? There are so many variables, with both of our professions. We're prepared. We're optimistic, but we both have a healthy dose of insecurity.
That's why our relationship has to be a haven. We have to create a calm, supportive, loving environment for ourselves and our children. We are each other's peaceful retreat from the roller coaster. Do you have a peaceful retreat? Where do you go when things get to crazy, whether it's internal or outside in the world? It could be a physical place, but it's usually a relationship. Find those people. They are everything.
I'm not as much of a fan. I like roller coasters, as long as they don't jostle me around too much. I get nervous about the ride up and the long ride down. I imagine all of the terrible things that could happen if the ride breaks. What if I fall out? What if the ride gets stuck and we have to climb down on the tiny ladders? I'd rather stay on the ground and watch him ride.
This is a metaphor for our lives. My husband is a steady, realistic person. He likes excitement, but he chooses his thrills. He invites them in. He even creates his own, through his companies. He provides unique experiences for his customers.
I'm an emotional roller coaster. I live through ups and downs all the time. They are internal. They do not come from the outside world or other people. I create them in my own mind. I ride the waves of my own emotions and they take me to very exciting, or terrifying places. My husband has been privy to this for eleven years. I keep waiting for him to get tired of it, but he never does. He even likes it, most of the time. I'm exciting, to him.
I'm his personal roller coaster. He's my grounding force. Emotionally, he stays in the same place. He's rational, even and moderate. He brings me back to a stable place. If I'm down, he lifts me up. If I'm up, he reminds me to come back down.
It's a balancing act. When he gets stressed, I try to provide a calm place to rest. When he's happy, I try to join him. When he's really down, or at least as down as he gets, I'm usually up and try to take him with me. We've done this dance for a long time. It works pretty well, but make no mistake, we are human.
We aren't always in sync. If we're both stressed, we can do the opposite of what the other person needs. It isn't a dramatic thing, but it does happen. I say the wrong thing, at the wrong time. We don't listen closely enough, because our internal monologues are too loud. It's like when the members of a band aren't quite on the same beat, or slightly out of tune. We usually recognize it quickly and fall back into our rhythm, but sometimes it takes a while.
Right now, we're both working hard on our personal and family goals. We're hyper focused on our missions. He is preparing for the sixth Bunbury and his new event, Brandemonium. Bunbury's schedule will be announced today. Brandemonium is still new. He's working hard to ensure that everything goes as planned.
I'm preparing for our older son's first grade assessment. I'm gathering his portfolio so that it can be judged by a certified teacher. This is a state requirement. It's important, only because the law says it is. I'm absolutely confident that Soren has met and surpassed the requirements of first grade. However, the proof is in the pudding. I love tests and being judged, because I do well. Soren will, too, but there's a tiny voice in my head that says, 'What if the certified teacher can't recognize how far my little boy has come in just one year?'
We all have self-doubt. I know my husband is confident in his festival and new event, but what if it rains? What if a band cancels at the last minute. What if no one buys beer? What if ticket sales aren't what they should be? There are so many variables, with both of our professions. We're prepared. We're optimistic, but we both have a healthy dose of insecurity.
That's why our relationship has to be a haven. We have to create a calm, supportive, loving environment for ourselves and our children. We are each other's peaceful retreat from the roller coaster. Do you have a peaceful retreat? Where do you go when things get to crazy, whether it's internal or outside in the world? It could be a physical place, but it's usually a relationship. Find those people. They are everything.
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