I’ve been married (to the same man) for half my life. Over these twenty-seven years, we’ve navigated the purchase of two houses and adding a second story to one of them; moving cities; finally having babies after almost five years of trying; and the twisty turns of career choice and development. Of course, that’s not all.  

We’re the sandwich generation, so we’ve also experienced the decline and death of one set of parents. My husband undertook a part-time MBA program during the same stretch of time we welcomed our children and renovated our house. The diagnosis of one of our daughters having a chronic illness, resulted in our becoming part of the SickKids Hospital family. We’ve had two much-loved dogs, four camping trailers, and gone on many family adventures. 

A lot of living happens in a quarter of a century—so many moments of joy, laughter, personal growth and learning but also tears, uncertainty, shouty arguments and pain.  In some respects, it feels like we’ve “done it all” (and have the tattoo to prove it!).  

With our kids heading off to university, we’ve had a reset. We’re on our own again.

Yet here we are. On the cusp of a new beginning. The next twenty-five years. With our kids heading off to university, we’ve had a reset.  We’re on our own again. It’s Lisa and Michael against the world. And you know what? We’re excited about it. But it took some work to get here.  
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Reinventing our relationship

By any measure, our courtship was short. There was less than five months between our first date and a marriage proposal! And even crazier, we’d had less than two weeks together in the same city! With the exception of my mother (who set us up—but that’s another story) everyone thought we were rushing things. Looking back, a longer engagement wouldn’t have made a difference to where we are today. At that moment in time, we were ready to commit to each other and the journey ahead. We had similar values about money, work ethic and wanting children, and our chemistry was better than average. It was enough to get us started and, as it turns out, to sustain us through the roller coaster of 25 years of married life. 

over the years, I’m sure that we fell out of love with each other— but luckily never at the same time.

Here’s the good news. I still like my husband. In fact, he’s my best friend. It doesn’t change the fact that over the years, I’m sure that we fell out of love with each other— but luckily never at the same time. You’ve heard the expression, “death by a thousand cuts?” In this context, I am referring to the many small, emotional blows we take in a marriage. After 25 years, the burden of all that marriage baggage can feel overwhelming. At least it did to me. Three and a half years ago I wasn’t excited about the future. In fact, I was dreading it. I wasn’t happy with the dynamics that nearly 25 years together had created between us and, while I wasn’t looking for a way out, I wasn’t first in line for what was coming next. I was neutral at best.

Slowly, we found our way back to each other without being fully aware that we’d gotten lost.

So, what’s changed? Everything and nothing. Our day-to-day looks the same. Same jobs, same hobbies, same basic values. But somehow through a LOT of communication (some of it shouty) we’ve been able to strip away the now ill-fitting “his and hers” roles that had developed in our relationship. Decision-making was renegotiated. We addressed “sensitive” issues head-on: money, menopause, sex and yes — even parenting. Nothing was off the table. Slowly, we found our way back to each other without being fully aware that we’d gotten lost.

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Our routine now is to use our morning coffee as time for talking without distraction (no phones, no TV, just a playful Australian Shepherd vying for attention). Organically we find ourselves setting short-term goals and making longer-term plans. Occasionally one of us will throw in a really long-term vision, like “we are never moving again” to test the idea with the other person. All of this adds up to enthusiasm for what comes next, but we’ve observed three factors that are the fuel to our excitement for the future:  

1. Anticipation. Goals keep you looking forward and optimism is contagious.  Whether you are counting down to a holiday, a night out with friends or the next big snowfall so you can get out on your skis, always look ahead for the next thing that’s going to get you excited.
2. Do things as a couple and as individuals, but don’t forget that shared experiences with others is what builds memories. Nurture and expand your friendships. 
3. Cultivate curiosity and open the door to new possibilities.  Maybe we haven’t really “done it all.”  There are always new foods to try or different music to listen to. Over the holidays my husband went bouldering with our daughters, something he’d never tried before. He came home humbled but exhilarated by the experience, and doubly committed to his New Year’s health goals. 

If someone had asked me 25 years ago—would I rather have a relationship modelled after a merry-go-round or a roller coaster, I may have answered merry-go-round. The screaming highs and lows of a roller coaster aren’t for everyone. You can’t see what’s coming around the corner, laughter can quickly turn to tears and you’re never completely confident that you’re securely locked in position. At the same time, nothing gets the blood pumping like that slow climb up the hill. And the thrill when you reach the peak is nothing short of spectacular.   

When it comes to married life, my husband and I still want to push our comfort zones and ride the roller coaster. Like I said, a lot of living can happen in a quarter century.

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