A Vow to Myself

Integrity / insight.

One time, shortly after our first separation in 2012, there was a gathering at one of the sister wives's apartments. Sister wife is what my ex and her friends call each other which I suppose started as some tongue in cheek reference to the now more well known Mormon label meaning; in a polygamous society, any of the women married to the same man. Ironic in that they all identify as feminists. I won’t bore you with my deconstruction of this rather peculiar term of endearment but it’s always seemed cringe. Anyway, somebody asked the question, “who’s your celebrity crush”? My wheels began turning with other questions like, this is what these people actually talk about? I was relatively new to this crowd, truth be told. When the question came to me, I said my celebrity crush was my wife. It was sincere but I could see she was visibly uncomfortable and embarrassed in front of her friends by my likely misinterpreted earnest response. One of the sister wives must have sensed this and blurted out, no, it can't be her, It has to be a real celebrity! I acquiesced, okay okay, Marion Cotillard, I guess. Honestly, the only real celebrity crush I ever had was Tatum O’Neal and that was after I saw Bad News Bears and Paper Moon when I was a kid. Tatum didn’t come to mind in that particular stressful moment.

At that time, I wanted so desperately to resolve things, to repair our marriage. The other day, I heard an interview with Stephen Jenkinson who wrote a recent book called Matrimony. In the interview, he made a pretty concise statement about how, in marriage, the idea of a sacred vow no longer carries the same meaning as it once did. He didn’t qualify that as good or bad, only something he’s observed having presided over a number of weddings for friends. A distinction was made that rather than a vow, modern commitment is more like a pinky promise. I always felt like my commitment to my ex was set firmly in the vow arena but after we were separated in 2011, and for the 13 years that ensued, her commitment to me felt more like a pinky promise. Good, bad or indifferent, that was my experience. When I heard Jenkinson speak about this I began to realize that the vows we took on our wedding day were pretty much meaningless. I mean, if you think about it, we were married at City Hall by a justice of the peace or some other form of city worker. The whole thing felt impersonal and the vows were written by the state. Even so, that wasn't really the point because we were taking the vow of committing to each other for better for worse, through sickness and in health, as it all universally goes.

When I said she was my celebrity crush, I truly meant it. I was embarrassed by the reactions in the room from the other married people who may or may not have taken their vows seriously. In the moment, I was ashamed that I wasn't playing along with their game. It reminded me of another time when I was 22 and an apprentice at Actors Theatre of Louisville. We were playing another game, a get to know each other kind of game. Essentially we sat in a circle in a rehearsal studio and were asked to first say our name, doing it to a drum beat so it had a rhythm going. It was the first week of the apprenticeship and we were all still checking each other out. So we'd say our name to the beat and then we were asked to add a word describing what we were most interested in, something that helped everyone else understand who we were. It was another embarrassing moment for me because I said Josh Theater and everybody laughed.

Theater was how I identified myself at that point. It was pretty much on my mind all the time. I was living and breathing it and was beyond ecstatic to be at Actors Theatre of Louisville doing what I love most. Everyone else chose various words like sailing or horseback riding or whatever they identified with. But I said theater and everybody laughed. Clearly I didn’t understand the exercise. I felt a similar brand of embarassment then that I did with the sister wives. In both situations it was a sort of naivete type embarrassment yet embodied pure sentiment. I'm remembering this because it would have been nice if I was actually with people who found that endearing or touching in some way. It would have been lovely to have felt appreciated in those two moments or, you know, felt loved and seen.

I wonder now if that was another moment where my ex felt like I was being manipulative or whatever. And here’s the thing, I can now cherish that heatfelt part of myself because it’s goofy and fun, innocent, child-like and yes, maybe naive, but it’s also tells me how much I truly care about the people in my life and the things I do that are meaningful to me. I get no emotional charge in telling this story but it does provide me with some valuable insight. I will no longer engage with anyone who questions my integrity. This is a form of self-acceptance or self-love. I’ve been accommodating other people’s opinions and judgements of me for way too long and I’m done with that. Friendships, romantic relationships, family, doesn’t matter. I’m a human being who flails along like everyone else and my commitment now is to embrace the full catastrophe.

If you don’t dig me for who I am, adios.

If you want to identify me with your projections, adios.

If you want to attempt to pigeon-hole me based on your ideology, adios.

I will stand in my truth and see you, that’s a promise.

I will respond to you and try not to react, mustering as much present moment awareness I can during challenging exchanges.

I will own my own shit and work it out in my own time.

I will apologize when needed.

I will respect and honor your sovereignty, your integrity.

But if you fuck with mine, I’ll surely let you know.