Happily Ever After: The Life-Changing Power of a Grateful Heart (9 page)

Part of a healthy relationship is not just creating time with each other, but creating time
for
each other. It’s making sure
that your partner nourishes the hobbies and passions and interests that make up the person he or she fell in love with, and vice versa. Not only is it a way of keeping resentment at a minimum, but by encouraging your partner to do what he loves, you are saying:
I love you. I appreciate you. I am grateful for you.

There are few better feelings than those.

H
APPY
L
IFE
, H
APPY
W
IFE . . . AND
P
ARTNER

In a study published by the
Journal of Personality and Social Psychology
in 2012, Amie Gordon and her colleagues found that people who feel more appreciated by their romantic partners report being more appreciative
of
their partners.

Here’s what their results revealed: When you are feeling the most grateful for your significant other, you are more committed to making your relationship last. When you are more committed to making your relationship last, you are more responsive to the needs of the one you love and become a better and more caring listener. When you are a better and more caring listener, your partner feels more appreciated by you. When your partner feels more appreciated by you, they feel more grateful
for
you—and the cycle begins again. As Gordon said, “By promoting a cycle of generosity, gratitude can actually help relationships thrive.”

But not only can gratitude help those in the midst of good times get to better times, it can help those in an otherwise healthy relationship experiencing tough times breeze past them.

According to researchers at the Greater Good Science Center at the University of California, Berkeley, “When we hit a
rocky patch, this research suggests, it’s the upward spiral of gratitude that encourages us to risk vulnerability, tune into our partner’s needs, and resolve the conflict, rather than turning away from him or her.” It builds security and helps partners recognize the true value of their relationship.

To keep your relationship going strong, I suggest taking a note from my friend Erik Williams. With a marriage that is flourishing, he had this to say about the anniversary of his first date with Kim, now his wife:

Eleven years ago today, after weeks of shameless begging, this hot young thing agreed to go on a date with me. To show her how Colorado cool I was, I took her fly-fishing for her first time. No fish . . . strike 1. She falls in and soaks the waders . . . strike 2. We go back to my apartment, where I cook her a fish dinner and burn it beyond recognition . . . strike 3.

I remember that moment where everything had gone wrong: we sat at my kitchen table, and I was simply mesmerized by her. I kept thinking I was blessed among all men for being in that spot.

Flash forward to last night: same girl, different table. This time there was more than charred cod between us. Three kids, two dogs, houses, cars, mortgages, jobs, grey hairs and so much life packed into those years. One of the best parts about my life is that I’m still mesmerized when I look across the table.

I will love this girl every day of my life—and be grateful for the opportunity.

Based on this new research, I have a feeling that as long as Erik holds on to that gratitude, and he and Kim continue to
pass it back and forth between them, the cycle of happiness will last much longer than the decade-plus they have been married. And if my son, Max, has his way, he’s going to marry Bella, their sweet daughter. Erik isn’t so crazy about envisioning his six-year-old walking down the aisle just yet, but if Max keeps his sights set on her, I have every confidence that in his in-laws he would have wonderful marital role models. Role models with hearts full of gratitude.

W
ARM
T
OES
= A W
ARM
H
EART

Holidays are among the best times of the year to show you care. I’m definitely a fan of thoughtfully expressing your love on the days that aren’t related to a holiday, but at the very least, the days of celebration in your culture should be recognized with appropriate gifts. And if you give from a place of love, odds are that the recipient will lovingly accept your gift. Remember the wise words of author Eileen Elias Freeman: “It isn’t the size of the gift that matters, but the size of the heart that gives it.”

When Ryan and I were first together, we were having a casual conversation about gifts. He asked me to name the worst gift I had ever received: socks. As a lifetime wearer of plain white socks, I just never saw the appeal. People usually can’t see them, so why go to the effort? But in that moment, I realized that I had just cast my line out into a sea of cheesy foot coverings and would no doubt be reeling some in the next chance my future husband got.

It turned out that he got that opportunity during our first secret rendezvous arranged by the producers of
The Bachelorette.
We were holed up in a little apartment in Los Angeles
and decided that since we weren’t contractually allowed to be together on December 25, we would make the most of the time we were being given to exchange gifts before Santa got on his sleigh. Lo and behold, box after bag after bag after box was filled with what I had told him were my least favorite gifts, accompanied by a few hats as well. I had never appreciated them before, but Ryan changed all that—especially after I read the silly poem he wrote to go with them:

Why Socks?

Everybody loves diamonds, rings, chains of gold

But what good are diamonds when your feet get cold.

Oh no, there can only be two things for that.

A good pair of socks and a stocking hat.

One hat should do, but when it comes to socks,

They get dirty quick . . . you may need a box.

At least a drawer full. Pair upon pair.

Keep them in a drawer, next to your underwear.

I appreciate the little things, the socks of this life.

So I’ll never forget the importance of my fiancée or wife.

Think of them not as a gift, but a guarantee

That I’ll always love you . . . warm, soft, and wool-free.

Think about how many times you’ve been given a gift that couldn’t have been further from your style. You say thank you, but not for what you just opened. You say it because your mama taught you proper manners and because you know that the old cliché about it being the thought that counts was spot on.

That Christmas I didn’t really want or need a drawer full of comical and cozy socks. Every time I unwrapped another pair, though, my laughter became more genuine and my heart
more full. He had managed to show me that it was truly the little things that could make me feel the most love. And to this day, the little things are what I cherish the most.

A B
LESSED
B
ROKEN
R
OAD

When I first heard the song “Bless the Broken Road” by Rascal Flatts, it was instantly one of my all-time favorites. If you’ve heard neither their version nor the original recording by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, head to iTunes and take a listen. It’s a poignant song about how all relationships, especially the ones that shatter our hearts into teeny-tiny pieces, lead us to the one we are ultimately meant to find.

Every time I hear it, I can’t help but feel it was written for me, and I’m positive that I’m not alone. Many of us can relate to it, and for good reason. Like millions of other fans, I’ve had my share of eye-opening heartbreak on the path to finding the love of my life.

It all started in high school with the first boy I ever loved. I met him in the seventh grade and we became a pair the next year. He was the life of any party, with all-American good looks, a charming personality, a loving mother, a bright future on the football field, and friends in every corner of the school. For about five years, we rode the roller coaster of a high school relationship, going from boyfriend/girlfriend, to boy-interested-in-other-girls/girl-still-infatuated-with-boy-and-acting-like-she’s-not, back to boyfriend/girlfriend, then to just friends, and so on and so on. No matter our status, I wanted to be with him.

My diaries from that time period are filled with hearts and smiley faces, even when he either intentionally or
unintentionally hurt me. I was so blinded by puppy love that I couldn’t see the bottom line: he wasn’t as in love with me as I was with him. It didn’t matter if he had moved on to a girl from a rival high school, or was dating one of my close friends. If he gave me even a morsel of sweet attention, I clung to it, and I’m pretty sure he knew I would.

For most of those five years, I allowed my boyfriend/friend/subject of infatuation to motivate my decisions and most of my happiness, and as it tends to do if we aren’t paying close enough attention, history repeated itself. This time it was with a guy I met during my second year of graduate school. He was new to the University of Miami physical therapy program, and I was new to the single world after ending a two-year relationship. We hit it off and stayed together for nearly two years, but a string of straws in the form of tangible evidence that he was less than faithful broke this camel’s back.

One straw was a handwritten letter from one of his lady “friends” who had been visiting while I was away, saying “be good, or at least be good until we can be bad together.” Other straws included pictures I found of him on spring break dancing in a not-so-innocent way with a girl I had never seen before, and a chain of e-mail messages that discussed what he and his best friend jokingly called “orgy at the Colony.” The Colony was the apartment complex where we lived together, and the weekend they were discussing inviting over a bevy of beauties was one that I had invited him to a wedding and he’d declined, saying his sister would be visiting. Yep, he played the family card, and yep, I bought it.

I continued to deny my instincts and trust that the love I felt for him was mutual. But his actions repeatedly showed
me that I wasn’t a priority in his life, and he wasn’t ready to commit. I just didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to lose him. I didn’t want to be alone.

Over and over again, for years and years, I sacrificed my psychological well-being just to be in a relationship. I blindly loved both of these men to the detriment of my own personal happiness. I deserved more. We all deserve more.

I wish I could spare my younger self the repeated smashing of all the eggs I put in those baskets, but I’ve settled on taking the lessons I learned from them (and the rest of my failed relationships) and using them to be the best wife I can be. Without those failures, I wouldn’t have found relationship success. No experience, no matter how bad, is a waste—unless you waste the lesson. It took a few lessons, but in the end, I couldn’t be more grateful that my broken road led me straight to Ryan and my happy ending.

M
ODERN
F
AMILY

For more and more couples these days, divorce ends up being the only option left in creating a future with hope and happiness—my parents included. Whatever the reason, some couples decide that their lives would be better without the person they once said they wanted to dedicate the rest of forever to. And for some, it’s the wise choice.

Having lived a short forty years, I can count on one hand how many of my friends have decided to end their marital relationships. One of these is a friend from college I became close with through Redsteppers, otherwise known as the dancers who performed with the band during halftime at Indiana University football games in bright red knee-high
leather boots. I had lost touch with her for a few years after we both graduated, but now I see her beautiful face on
E! News.
To me, she was Cathy Sadler. To America, she’s known as Catt.

I knew that Catt went through a divorce and had recently met her new Prince Charming, but I didn’t know the full story until she posted an article she wrote for
Genlux
magazine. The second I finished reading it, I sent her a text asking if I could share it with you here, thinking that if divorce is the only option after all others have been considered, then Catt and her extended family are an excellent example of how to gratefully move forward in the shadow of sadness. She gladly agreed to let me share an excerpt. Happy reading (and
THANK YOU
, Catt!):

A Joy Division

I never thought I’d get divorced. I was a child of divorce and to me the D word was a dirty one.

I was just entering my thirties, my two children were growing and thriving, my career was advancing, but my marriage to Kyle was crumbling. We were college sweethearts, solid friends, and managing our full lives together side by side. But, as the old cliché goes, we were growing apart. After more than twelve years together, eight of them married, our relationship began to dissolve.

But the details of our decline aren’t as important as what came after.

In 2007, I woke up a single mom of two living thousands of miles away from my family back home in Indiana. But I couldn’t lay in bed self-loathing, I had to soldier on for my boys. Thankfully, I had a fantastic TV job in Los Angeles hosting a
show that challenged me creatively and also filled me emotionally. The
Daily 10
cast and crew were like family. My job brought laughter into my life every day and was in many ways an escape from the heartache I was feeling after my divorce.

Time passed, and eventually I began to understand that for Kyle and me, being friends was better than being husband and wife; and I also felt that our children were adjusting well, all things considered.

When my older son Austin turned seven, I hosted a birthday party at our home. Several of the kids’ friends were invited, my girlfriends and their husbands were there, and, of course, Kyle wouldn’t miss it. I knew he had been dating Sarah for several months, so when he respectfully called beforehand to ask if she could come to the party, I said yes.

My friends were astonished. “How are you corralling kids, overseeing the face painting, leading the happy birthday song, and not losing your mind knowing ‘she’ is here?”