It Takes a Flood Sometimes Pt. I

In my previous posts, I have talked about “being held” and it really made me think about what it means to be held in romantic partnerships. I decided to do one final series within the “to be held series” to share some of my insights. After all, dating and courtship seem to take a big chunk of our dreams, fantasies, frustrations, prayers, and thoughts. 

It also just so happens that my husband and I are celebrating our 2nd Anniversary of being married and although I am no expert, I have definitely learned some things these past two years that I believe are worth sharing. 

So to really kick-off this topic, I am going to begin with a story. 

Two months after Jayme and I got married we experienced the most tumultuous time in our marriage. Yes, only two months of marital bliss and we were hit by a ravenous wind of conflict and strife which propelled us deep into a period I like to call “the flood.” Pun definitely intended here. It all started when I came home from work one day and went to the bathroom and flushed the toilet. Normal human stuff.  I then went to the couch to take a nap and wait for my husband to come home from work. What I didn’t know at the time is that when I flushed the toilet, the toilet flush became stuck creating a perpetual and quiet flush. Not normal stuff. 

When my husband came home from work he walked right past the chaos that was ensuing and greeted me with a hug and kiss. He then slid himself into my blanket and cuddled with me on the couch. We talked about our day and shared our plans for dinner, with the assumption that it was a perfectly normal day. 

Meanwhile, the incessant flush somehow began to rise to the top and spill over the toilet seat and stream over to the kitchen floor creating a literal flood of toilet water. Not normal stuff, AT ALL. 

To make matters worse, we only realized this was the case after our very inquisitive puppy was heard making pitter patter noises in the kitchen with it’s paws. We rose quickly to see what she was doing, only to find that our entire kitchen looked as if it was hit by a tsunami. I looked at my husband quickly in disbelief and then walked apprehensively to the bathroom, to find that the bathroom was also hit by the same tsunami. Our puppy who had no idea what was going on, stood in front of us with her entire fur soaked in toilet water and looked up at us with blissful glee. 

My husband proceeded to bring the lever up from where it had been stuck causing the perpetual flush to finally cease. He then quickly sprung into action and started to dump every towel we owned on the floor to dry up all the water. I however was still in shock and could hardly move. Needless to say, I wasn’t much of a help which only added to my husband’s growing frustration. 

After our entire bathroom and kitchen floor was covered with soggy wet cloth, my husband began to inquire how this could have happened. Flabbergasted, I uttered the only words I could think of to provide some relief, “I don’t know. It wasn’t me.” 

Of course it was me. I was the last one to flush the toilet but I didn’t want it to be me. I prayed it could have been anyone but me. I didn’t want to hold such a heavy responsibility and the shame that went with it. 

Then if my shame and embarrassment wasn’t heavy enough, there was a knock at the door. We opened it to find someone from maintenance wondering if we were okay because the room below us was experiencing a leak from their ceiling. 

We explained what happened and sent him on his way, hoping and praying that we had seen the last of this nightmare, but unfortunately, the nightmare was only just beginning. 

The very next day we received a call from management telling us that they needed to inspect our home for damages underneath our floors. They also told us that the water was very harmful and not only impacted the apartment below us but the apartment below them. We gave them permission to enter our apartment and assess, and within a couple hours later we were told that the damages were so severe, we needed to move out of our apartment. 

But wait, it gets better. Not only did we need to move, we needed to move in 48 hours and our only options were to stay at a hotel (completely out of pocket and wait until they fix all of the damages which could take weeks) or find a new apartment (in a different building because they had no apartments available where we were).  

We chose the latter and within 48 hours, through the grace of God and my husband’s strength of being over-prepared, we found a new place, signed a new lease, packed all of our belongings, and moved into a brand new apartment. 

But as the entire fiasco was unfolding, so were problems in our marriage. 

As we sought to rebuild all that came tumbling down with our apartment, we started to tear down each other limb by limb. Needless to say, the stress of the move took a toll on us and instead of drawing closer together to support one another, we were drawing away from one another and bringing the stress we both were experiencing into our marriage. 

After many conversations and leveling with one another, we were able to work things out but it didn’t fix the underlying pain we both were holding. There were weeks of hurtful words exchanged and we needed to heal the wounds we had inflicted on one another. So being a therapist and feeling convinced that therapy helps, I asked my husband if he would be willing to begin couple’s therapy. 

He agreed and the next couple months we made a commitment to meet with a therapist once a week. Within a couple of sessions, it became clear what our issues were and how we needed to move forward. Out of respect for my husband, I won’t divulge everything but I want to share some things I learned that made a big difference in the way I view and approach intimate partnership. See the next blog post to learn more: It Takes A Flood Sometimes Pt. II