Valentine’s Day

Facebook has officially made Valentines Day my least favorite day of the year.

Before I was married, I always assumed I disliked the day because I was single. I assumed when I was no longer single, I’d like it.

I was so, so wrong.

As a married woman, it now is a day full of unmet, impossibly high expectations (on my part) and inevitable feelings of failure (on his part).

If it was a struggle that stayed just between us, I could handle it. Chris and I regularly have the conversation about unrealistic expectations and unattainable standards. It’s a common theme in our marriage. I’ve accepted that it’s part of the Giovagnoni Marriage Deal.

bombBut take this conversation and put it into the context of Facebrag and it blows it up into an emotional atomic bomb.

We had the worst Valentines Day “date” last night. If I were to describe it, you’d laugh because it is so preposterously opposite of everything Valentines Day is “supposed to” represent.

I’m not telling you this to evoke your pity or to throw my husband under the bus.

I am fully to blame for the Disaster Date from Hell.
He was just a victim.

We’ll work through it. We’ll come out stronger on the other side.

That’s how God-centered marriage works … He takes our shit storms and makes them into something beautiful.

But it takes time. And forgiveness and grace and a lot of hard work.

And this morning,  as we are trying to start the healing and recovery process, my Facebook newsfeed is doing what it does best – being a constant source of posts highlighting all the ways we are broken.

The flowers.
The thoughtful gifts.
The family dinners.
The cards.
The surprises.
The updated profile photos, framed in hearts.

Stop looking at Facebook. That seems like it would be a healthy way of dealing with this, right?

But the reality is, Facebook has woven itself into my life in a way that’s difficult to undo. My mother-in-law, who lives in Virginia, keeps up with us and our kids through my posts. If it weren’t for Facebook, she’d know very little about our day-to-day lives. Because of her phone plan, my sister uses Facebook messenger instead of text. My job involves regular posting and sharing Facebook content. I’d have to quit my job in order to delete my Facebook account.

And maybe someday I will make these changes. But not today.

Today I go on using Facebook, trying to fight the lie that we’re broken beyond repair. Fighting the lie that something is wrong with us. Posting our crap for the world to see.

I suspect that underneath the unending flow of flowers and hearts and mushy posts hides a whole lot of pain and hurt and disappointment.

I guess we just wear ours on display.

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