Bear with me as I delve into symbolism here.
Marriage is like a big feast. A large, varied spread for just two people, who are tasked with the responsibility of eating all the food presented to them. The two are eager to begin, portioning out servings rather evenly, while adapting to the preferences of each. Your spouse doesn't like olives so you take the bowl. You don't prefer sesame seeds on your bun, so they take all the tops while you eat the bottoms. After giving and taking, you successfully divide up the food and eat it all.
Each day the meal is a little different. You and your spouse might take turns piling your plates a little higher to help the other out. But you both keep eating the entire meal, and you start to feel your stomach stretching a bit and being able to accommodate more, settling in to a rhythm that leaves you both reasonably full, but not stuffed.
Being married to a grad student is like having this same meal each day, with the same responsibility of polishing it off, but every day a giant pot of thick, creamy, heavy, buttery mashed potatoes is included in the meal. Dutifully, your spouse takes them all, slowly shoveling the starch into their mouth and swallowing every last bite. And you are so grateful that you do not have to stomach such an ordeal.
But you are left with the rest. The spread, that was previously split each day, is now your duty alone to finish. Occasionally the spouse might take on a piece of corn bread or a handful of salad, but most often they are in a coma from the amount of potatoes they have consumed. Everyone is so impressed with the accomplishment of your spouse, because it is a feat to eat so many potatoes. They ask after his or her ordeal, offering sympathy and encouragement as he or she continues to plod their way through. And they need it, because who ever heard of eating so many potatoes?
But what everyone including grad student might not recognize is the efforts being put in by the 2nd spouse to keep eating all the other food. There's not much glory in eating rolls and broccoli and chicken and pickles, but it's still an accomplishment to get it all down. And you don't have any other choice but to get. it. down.
I won't tell you not to go to grad school. We had an incredible amount of people, both close to us and basically unknown, who told us not to go...after we had already accepted. I think it's garbage to say something like that to people eager and excited to embark on an adventure. But I will say that you need to buy bigger plates. You have to figure out how to deal with more. How to cope with responsibility. Learn when to put more on your plate and when to give it to your spouse. It's tricky and I haven't figured it out myself, but I am sure that doing so will strengthen and refine your relationship. Because as hard a grad school is, I'm positive that it's just a crash course for the rest of our lives.
