A thirty-day honeymoon may sound marvelous for any young couple who is about to get married.
Thirty days of visiting several islands in the Caribbean sounds even better when it comes as a surprise wedding gift.
I couldn't be happier.
There are times when the universe surprises you unexpectedly, in more ways than one could possibly imagine. It may even have so many surprises that you are unable to see all that it is offering.
I traveled as an excited wife, naive and inexperienced in every shape and form but above all ecstatic to begin a new chapter in my life.
Days went by, new husband, delicious food, mesmerizing sunsets, beautiful waterfalls, and unbelievable forests. It was nature at its maximum expression.
But why, as I was contemplating these spectacular views, I felt that deep down there was something that didn't feel quite right. At all.
All that enthusiasm that feeling of euphoria slowly began fading away as the days passed by. But I always seemed to justify the loss of luster with different excuses: sunburn, feeling sick, arguments, disappointment.
One day I came back from an excursion indisposed. We had enjoyed the activity, and I got to try the authentic food from the island. He refused. It later became clear that I had committed a colossal mistake.
It was four days that felt eternal, with both my body and soul unable to function correctly. My body couldn't even bear to tolerate a simple sip of water.
My newlywed spouse blatantly got mad at me for my lack of disposition. He was crazy because I was lying in bed feeling ill and hopeless. He was frustrated that he had to have meals by himself. And all that anger was targeted at me.
The colitis didn't want to leave me.
Now I've come to understand; my body wanted to release all the toxic I was carrying; part of it was from the food, but it was also what I perceived as a poisonous situation, a person, a conflict, or maybe all of the above.
He left me alone. He went to the beach and came back at sundown; he slept on the terrace.
I felt like I wanted to die both physically and emotionally. This was the man that I had just gotten married to. It was a reality that struck me amid my honeymoon.
Where did that sweet, caring guy go?
Finally, as my health recovered, he apologized, and I forgave him.
As the trip continued, I begin to feel the disconnection with my body.
One day I realized that I counted the days that were left before we went back home. I felt tired, and I wanted to be in my home's comfort and start my routine before beginning work.
I needed some time to think, organize my ideas, and put my emotions into place.
The six months before the wedding had been very tense, graduating from college, setting up our new home, planning the wedding, events, appointments, etc.
When the plane landed, I felt like I could breathe again. My energy suddenly shifted. I began going through everything that I wanted to do. I wanted to see my family, my friends, but above all, I wanted to sit down with a cup of coffee, a cigarette, and my thoughts.
I felt like I had too many thoughts that needed to be put in order.
In reality, what bothered me the most was that something that didn't sound well, and I was refusing to hear it. That gut feeling that you choose to ignore, to evade having to deal with the situation. I had the certainty that it wasn't the honeymoon I had imagined. I also knew that Mr. Disney painted reality in his movies that would later tear us apart in expectation.
But something told me that my own reality was far from ordinary.
Going out of the plane and smelling the fresh air that characterizes the place that we called "home" gave me a boost of happiness.
On our way to the baggage claim, we came across with our mothers and maybe some of our siblings, if I can't seem to recall correctly. What I am sure of with vast clarity, and I will never erase this from my head, was what appeared to be a far from a usual question, a rather cruel or maybe passive-aggressive question I could say. Nowadays, I can interpret exactly what it meant.
My ex-mother in law hugged me as soon as she saw me. She took me by the hand, the left arm, she pulled me aside. But she did it abruptly. I knew that what she was about to say was of massive importance. Without hesitation, she asked me, "How did he perform" Those were precisely her words. Her didn't leave my eyes, and her words came out harshly. It seemed as she was trying to analyze my response so she, on her own, could answer the question.
What did she mean? Was she asking about Mr. F's character? Was she wondering if he had gotten me some souvenir gifts?
At that moment, a million different scenarios flew my mind relating to the words "how did he behave."
I have never managed to have a poker face. My expressions can give away immediately what I feel.
At that precise moment, I can imagine that it showed confusion, sadness, awkwardness, and disappointment. That is when I noticed, my ex-mother in law was still grasping my arm.
My naive 22-year-old self from a conservative background couldn't seem to decipher why my ex-mother in law could want to know with that question.
The only answer I could gather was, "It went well."
Was she concerned? Was she nosy? I had no clue.
This scenario was never to be talked about again.
Now it is part of what would be a simple piece of a large puzzle.
Thirty years back, I had never heard nor knew of a person who had married a gay man. It wasn't something that would remotely cross my mind. In my head, gay men didn't get married. End of story. It was unbearably hard for them to come out of the closet, maybe it took a lifetime, but they didn't hide their sexuality and ruined someone's life in the process.
I had been raised with the firm idea that marriage meant a lifetime of the partnership. Like love could possibly last so long. I do admit there may be exceptions. But that is a whole other chapter.
I knew that there were going to be ups and downs. All of that was normal. It was foreseen. Communication was key. Divorce wasn't in the cards.
To be honest, the difference between the man who was my boyfriend for two years before getting married and my husband was inexplicable.
I have to admit that the first time I ever considered separating from him was when the plane landed from our thirty-day honeymoon.
The question that my ex-mother in law had always haunted me throughout the marriage.
Did she know something that I didn't? Now it is evident that she, in fact, did.
Pity that she wasn't able to sit down and talk to me.
I will never know why she let all of this untangle.
We talked about everything. She told me about her childhood. She opened up to me. But never uttered a single word about this precise subject.
What was very curious was that this relationship, this bond, clashed the minute that I got married. This relationship turned into passive-aggressive comments and silent fights. She wanted to keep controlling her son, and I wanted my husband. It was hard, tired, even a motive for therapy. I know that relationships with mothers-in-law are usually not very easy to carry, but I genuinely believe that we could beat the odds. But like she said "jokingly" the day of the wedding, It was now time for her to let her claws out. And evidently, she did.
With this peace in my heart, I now question if she would have prevented all the suffering from happening. Of course, she could. Not accepting her children like they were is a prevalent problem in us, parents. We all want our kids to fit in with the standards laid out by society.
At that moment, she was for her son to get married, have children, and become a successful executive.
And it clearly didn't matter at what expense it came.
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