When I told people I was leaving my job to move to an island with aspirations to be a writer I received a lot of different responses. Shock. Confusion. Skepticism. Encouragement. Excitement. The sentiments ran the gamut. When I told my husband I wanted to quit my job and become a writer he had two words for me.
His response was both immediate and significant. We aren't a couple with excessive means. My income wasn't frivolous. We each pull our weight to create the life we want. We're two smart, normal people. We like good food and interaction in small groups. We like being with our dogs and talking to each other. We can be borderline obsessed with current events. We listen to audiobooks together. We're the best of friends. And, of course, we're each other's primary support system.
What makes him amazing isn't just that he's supportive. It's that he's actively supportive. When I'm brainstorming, he's tossing out ideas. When I have a conundrum, he's the first at the whiteboard with solutions. He gives me my thinking time, but also asks what I'm working on. Not what I've billed for the week, what I'm creating. He shows genuine interest in my projects. In me. In what's important to me.
He also makes sure I'm actively engaged in our life. Whether it's a writing gig or my last office job, he doesn't let the work overwhelm and take time or attention away from what's important. He reminds me of all the best parts of the best people I've ever known. He's not perfect. But he's my perfect. And it's not all about me.
He shares what's important to him, too. He readily offers up his ideas, frustrations, and thoughts. And invites my opinions. We don't have to play guessing games with each other. It's easy to stay on the same page when we're both reading aloud. People often ask, "what did I do to deserve this?" when bad stuff happens. I often ask this same question when pondering what a lucky wife I am.
Don't get me wrong, all marriages and relationships face challenges at times. We've had our own. Again, there's no claim of perfection here. When adversity pops up, we face it together. When we disagree, we hash it out. Or agree to disagree. Bottom line, when we argue we do it respectfully because the person we're looking at is the most important person in our lives. My husband is an amazing man because he has the best heart. The fact that he's intelligent, funny, insightful, complex, and handsome are all just bonuses.
My husband has made me a better person. He's taught me to consider multiple perspectives, to be confident, to be humble, not to be afraid to be me. He's honest and forthcoming. It's what makes him such a great manager, too. He doesn't sugarcoat. You'll always get the truth, even if it isn't pleasant, but he will always offer to help as well. He reminds all, not just me, what it is that makes them special. My husband is an amazing man.
The fact is, we can all be amazing people. We're all capable of the qualities I gushed about above. We all have a significant impact on each other. We too often forget to tell each other when we find moments meaningful. We forget our actions can speak to the most unknown stranger, the best friend, and everyone in-between. We forget that a single action, compliment, or smile may not just make a difference in someone's day, but perhaps their life. It's a big world. What a big difference it would make if we all realized we're all amazing people.
Every one of us.