I have a new bloggy friend who feels like a kindred spirit, though I haven’t known her long at all. I met Dwija from House Unseen. Life Unscripted. through a bloggers’ group on Facebook, and if I hadn’t noticed her because of her name I certainly would have because of her blog. “We bought a house in rural Michigan sight-unseen off the internet,” reads her header. “My husband quit his job in California and we moved our four kids across the country.”

Heck yeah, I want to read this woman’s blog.

Then she friended me on Facebook and holy canoli is this woman funny. As in don’t-miss-her-status-updates funny.

Her story, as it turns out, is even richer than it sounds. (No pun intended.) My heart latched on to her history when she wrote Where I’m From. Several people, including me, asked her to share more about her background. Her response to that request – her humility, her hesitancy, her hilarious vernacular – captures so much about why I totally dig this woman already. (Plus, the post included a giant picture of a musk ox.)

She has started writing those stories, so go read part 1 and tell me you’re not hooked already. (And because you’re going to want them, here are the links to part 2 and part 3.)

So, um, anyway…before I spend a whole post rambling on about my new friend (and I could) I’ll tell you why this is important: She’s here today! And I’m at her place.

We’re doing a post exchange as part of the Friends You Love blog hop. I asked her if she’d play with me, she said yes, so here’s Dwija!

***

Five years ago I was still in my twenties. My skin looked great, I ran five days a week, I had two healthy little girls in pre-school and decent job.

And I was miserable.

Oh, we had money. We owned a charming little condo in Southern California and had two cars. I went out with my friends at least once, maybe twice a month.

And he was miserable.

We had everything “they” say you need to be happy and we just…weren’t. We weren’t happy. Because the one thing we didn’t have was each other.

I’ve read articles and “studies” lately that suggest the secret to a happy, or rather just bearable, marriage is to spend as much time apart as possible. Go on vacations alone. Talk badly behind each other’s backs. Drink a little too much. And then get some better meds.

My friends, if you are willing to endure that kind of painful existence, milquetoast at best, desperately depressing at worst, you are selling yourself short. You are cheating yourself out of the joy that everyone deserves.

When we had money and a house and perfect children in the Land of Fun, we rarely saw each other. We shared no hobbies. We went on no adventures together. He worked nights as a police officer, I worked days in an office. His days off were during the week, mine were on the weekend.

We stopped knowing each other.

So we stopped loving each other.

And you know what? That is not good enough. Not. Good. Enough. I wanted more, demanded more, because I deserved more. You deserve more.

And then the best terrible thing that could have happened to us happened – we foreclosed on our condo. Suddenly we had something in common again: a crisis.

In managing that crisis, we had to lean on one another. We had to make tough decisions and remind ourselves of what our priorities were. Or ought to be. We clung to one another and our relationship and the love we shared for our children and suddenly our lives BLOSSOMED again. Into a two-bedroom apartment just 6 days before baby number three was born and we were filled with JOY.

The peace that washed over our hearts and lit up our days once we prioritized each other over money or “fun” or stuff was nothing short of miraculous.

And now we’re here, in a house we bought for $27K cash sight-unseen off the internet, not knowing when Tommy will get another job or if we’ll ever be able to fix those holes in the ceiling, and we are happy.

You are worth more than tolerable. You are worth more than it-could-be-worse. Believe that. Live that. Make your life and your marriage and your family your hobby. Your adventure. You won’t regret it.

***

Sigh. I love her.

So now that I’ve introduced (some of) you to a fabulous new blogger, please head over to Dwija’s to read my (not nearly so deep) post about the time we were moving my husband out to live with me and ended up giving all his worldly possessions to some strangers.