As I lie awake in the dead of night, feeling furious and exhausted, I can’t help but glare at the ceiling above me. A nasty sinus infection is messing with my sinuses, my period is an unwanted visitor, and the constant interruptions from our little ones have left me utterly drained. But this time, it’s not the kids keeping me up.
Curled up on his side of the bed, my husband, Jake, is snoring like a bear in hibernation. Over the five years we’ve been together, I’ve devised various strategies to dull the thunderous sounds coming from his nostrils. Typically, I try to reposition him or gently pinch his nose, but tonight, neither approach seems effective. So, I resort to my most embarrassing tactic.
I attempt to cuddle him into silence, which usually works wonders for his snoring, but it often leaves me feeling solitary. I’m a well-known stage-five clinger, while Jake is more like a solitary wolf. Time and again, I’ve learned that any mid-sleep affection leads him to growl, shove my hands away, and retreat to the edge of the bed.
Once his back is turned toward me, the room falls blissfully silent. However, I’m left sprawled out like a lone starfish, craving that comforting “little spoon” moment that seems perpetually out of reach. Normally, I’d launch into a lengthy speech about why I wish he’d step outside his comfort zone in our relationship, but at this hour, that feels futile.
Regrettably, sleep is now off the table.
I wish I could say our differences end here and that we are the ultimate soulmates who effortlessly complete each other’s thoughts while binge-watching our favorite shows. But that would be a flat-out lie.
The reality is that while I’m determined to get my toddler to eat her veggies, Jake is perfectly fine with letting her snack straight from the Ritz cracker box. When I’m in the mood for a deep, thought-provoking indie film, Jake is all about the latest action flicks (no offense intended, Keanu). We struggle when it comes to arguments; I want resolution immediately, while Jake takes his time processing his emotions. And while I could dance the night away with friends, Jake is content to stay home so long that no one would even notice if he vanished.
Let’s just say my obsessive tidiness often has me using the show “Hoarders” as a motivation to clean. Yet, on other days, I’m left staring at the scattered action figures that Jake has strewn across our bed, or the trail of socks he leaves in his wake.
Our differences can be infuriatingly amusing. However, there’s one significant area that has demanded a lot of vulnerability from both of us. Two years ago, Jake opened up about living with ADHD since he was a child. A year later, I received a diagnosis of complex PTSD. Navigating through our opposing mental health challenges has been a frustrating comedy of errors. Thankfully, with therapy, we’re learning how to manage these challenges together.
One of Jake’s ADHD symptoms is forgetting crucial things like doctor’s appointments and tax deadlines. Meanwhile, my PTSD compels me to micromanage every detail of our lives, including his. While these might seem like minor annoyances, they represent deeper struggles for both of us.
Jake’s occasionally scattered mind has resulted in a lifetime of shame. He faced bullying from teachers, an educational system that failed to accommodate his needs, and partners who lacked compassion. This led him to hide his diagnosis for years, trying to live as if he didn’t have ADHD. However, parenting brought these challenges to the forefront.
For me, my PTSD, rooted in childhood trauma, has created a need to control my surroundings and manage the feelings of those around me. Since childhood, I’ve been conditioned to excel, please others, and chase perfection, all while shame has taken up residence in my mind. When Jake met me, I was masking my wounds with radical optimism and unhealthy eating habits, completely unaware of my PTSD.
In a peculiar way, both of us have been trapped in our own pressure cookers. Recognizing this has allowed us to discover a common ground we never knew existed. Despite our differences, our shared mental health struggles have ultimately united us when they could have driven us apart. In fact, they almost did — until we realized we were both fighting similar battles.
This past year, Jake demonstrated an unparalleled love by agreeing to move us closer to his family for support. After my PTSD diagnosis, we recognized the immense strain of living in a city on a single income while managing the challenges of a growing family. Jake stepped back from a promising job in animation to prioritize our well-being, showcasing his unwavering loyalty.
Since day one, Jake has consistently chosen me. And even when my mental health convinces me otherwise, he manages to dispel my doubts. He’s always present, trying to understand my struggles, and remains my biggest supporter. While he may express himself differently, Jake’s unwavering grip on my hand reassures me that he’s always there.
I may never fully adjust to seeing my husband in the same old shirts he clings to or dealing with his forgetfulness when it comes to our child’s preschool. And the socks? Oh my goodness, the socks. But after this past year, I’m starting to think that maybe I should indulge in some Ritz crackers straight from the box every once in a while.
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Summary:
This article delves into the contrasting personalities of a couple, Emma and Jake, and how their differences shape their relationship. While Emma is a neat freak and social butterfly, Jake prefers solitude and is more laid-back. Both face challenges related to their mental health diagnoses, but their shared experiences have ultimately brought them closer together. Their journey highlights the importance of understanding and supporting one another while navigating life’s hurdles.