Gentrification of a Marriage

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I’ve been in Atlanta over fifteen years now and in that time, I’ve seen some neighborhoods slide into disrepair and I’ve watched others climb back from near-ruin. It’s fascinating to observe how an area can go from “No way would I ever live there” to “I wish I could afford to live there!” in under a decade.

And this cycle of new hope, establishment, inattention and renewal is not unique to neighborhoods and it effects more than real estate.

We can also witness it in marriages.

A new marriage is like the construction of a new neighborhood. It is full of promise, even as it is devoid of roots and rituals. Everything can seem perfect as no veneer has yet been worn away from use. New friends are made and a different schedule and routine is worked through. Dreams are shared freely and rarely tempered with reality. This is a period of excitement and possibility.

In a relatively short period of time, the new family transitions into a period of establishment and growth. This may be marked by the raising or children or the focus on nurturing careers. Money, time and attention are directed towards the family. The surroundings and environment are personalized to match the needs as the default template of the new marital construction is discarded. This is a period of creation and purpose.

And now is when the problems can begin to occur. The surroundings may begin to feel stale and too constricting. The small issues can grow into larger ones until they crowd out the good. Life gets in the way and places extra demands. Attention and care may no longer directed towards the family and this inattention starves the marriage. This is a period of uncertainty and fear.

In real estate, this is when some people choose to leave the older neighborhood and look for a newer and fresher home elsewhere. Others stay put and still refrain from putting money into their homes, continuing their disrepair. And some stay and invest in their homes, reinventing their existing space.

It’s the same in marriage. You have three choices.

And if you choose to stay and infuse your established relationship with new vitality, take a cue from gentrification:

Much like the early investors and artists that venture into a neighborhood that has seen better days, you have to be willing to take risks and think creatively.

Instead of tearing down everything, look at the underlying structure to see what can be preserved and enhanced.

Be willing to re-purpose. Just because it’s always been that way, doesn’t mean it always has to be that way.

Do those things you have always wanted to do but always put off.  Put those early dreams into action.

Freshen up. Make you and your space inviting and warm.

Know your limitations. Hire help when needed.

Be empathetic and thoughtful when making changes that impact others.

Balance expectations with reality, wants with needs and frustration with thankfulness.

Make your relationship your hub. Your city center. Surround it with what you need.

Talk up your marriage as if it is the most desirable place to be.

Sell it.

And then buy it.

This is a period of renewal.

Hopes and dreams rooted in connection and history.

Best of the old and the new.

Seasonal

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I grew up in South Texas, which basically has two seasons: “knocking on the gates of hell” (where you risk 3rd degree burns just by simply going barefoot)  from about March to October and “I can wear jeans without suffering heatstroke,” frequently called “winter” by the rest of the country. Occasionally, a third season makes a brief appearance when the region receives five years worth of average rainfall in five hours and the interstates turn into swimming holes.

I never really understood seasons as a kid. Fall was marked by the start of the school year and the appearance of jack-o-lanterns (which usually looked as though they needed sunsreen and a fan) rather than by any real drop in temperature. Instead of arriving on the wind in a series of brisk cold fronts, the temperatures slowly seemed to moderate. The lows became a little lower and the highs seemed to struggle to reach their apex before the sun set. Winter was defined by the addition of Christmas lights and luminarios to the fronts of the houses, projecting a cozy ambiance even when you’re in shorts. The deciduous trees held stubbornly to their leaves until spring, when the new growth pushed off the old. Spring, a sign of renewal and life in much of the world, is the season of caterpillars and tree dropping in South Texas. At least until the temperatures grow too hot again for the trees to even bother with such things as leaves.

There were benefits to growing up without seasons – you could camp during fall and winter breaks, a winter coat was an indulgence rather than a necessity, and we used to have “heat days” off school when it was too hot for the busses to run. Nonetheless, there is something to be said for nature’s reminders of the inevitability of cycles and the impermanence of life.

I am now on my fifteenth autumn in Atlanta. And today marks the first day where fall is carried on the breath of the wind through the trees. I celebrated this morning with pumpkin pancakes and a pair of new running shoes.

There’s a slowing, a sense of turning inward, that accompanies the fall. I associate it with reading and cooking and hiking and writing by an open window. I’ve always felt a rebirth in the fall, perhaps because it marks the end of the intense heat and humidity that often terrorizes Atlanta towards the end of the summer. It’s literally a breath of fresh air.

I have fallen in love with the full expression of each season found here. I enjoy the sense of inner nurturing and scaling back in the autumn, the gatherings around the hearth in the winter, the strength of life in the spring and the pure exuberance of the summer. Just as one tires, the next moves in.

I love the reminder that change is inevitable and that every transformation has its own beauty.

And I also appreciate the fact that I can wear jeans in September without succumbing to heatstroke:)

Happy fall, y’all!