The one sentence that transformed my marriage...

My husband Chuck does laundry all wrong.

And by wrong, I don’t mean that he messes it up.

He’s actually much better than I am at getting things clean and removing tough stains. He’s very particular and has all sorts of tips and tricks that would make Martha Stewart proud.

So when I say wrong, what I really mean is that he doesn’t do it the way I do it.

We have one of those laundry sorters, the kind with three separate sections for whites, lights, and colors, and he refuses to run a load until the washing machine is completely full.

Which I suppose sounds reasonable in theory, except when you’re waiting for your favorite t-shirt or you run out of underwear. (I’ve learned to stock up.)

And while I guess I shouldn’t really be complaining about the fact that my husband does all the laundry in our home, the truth is that for a long time, this drove me crazy.

Because when I was in charge of laundry, I had a system.

Laundry day meant everything got done—whites, lights, colors, sheets, towels, all of it—start to finish, folded and put away, in one single day. Done and done.

It’s so me. All or nothing. Obsessed or totally uninterested.

So his way made no sense to me. And mine made no sense to him.

But laundry is just the beginning.

Tomorrow Chuck and I will celebrate 20 years of marriage, which is quite a feat when you consider that we are, in almost every measurable way, complete opposites.

I am driven and intense and yes, a tad bit obsessive when I get excited about something. I love a plan. I love a checklist. I want to know exactly what’s happening, and when, and what comes next. I tend to run hot and cold.

Chuck, on the other hand, is laid back and steady. He is also an engineer through and through. Methodical. Thoughtful. But also spontaneous. He does not love a plan. Or a list, for that matter. His favorite way to grocery shop is to wander around the store, Publix flyer in hand, scouting out this week’s BOGOs. (He loves a BOGO!)

In 2013, after my little side-hustle blog turned into a full-time business, we switched roles. I rented an office and went off to work every day, while he became the stay-at-home dad.

The culture shock was real. Not really for him so much, as for me.

Because I had a schedule. He did not follow the schedule.

I had routines. Routines were not his thing.

And dinner every night was somehow always a surprise. I would walk in the door and ask “what’s for dinner?” and he would look at me like I had two heads. Like dinner wasn’t a thing that was going to happen every single day for the rest of our lives.

I had to learn how to let go.

Just like he had to learn how to deal with all that intense Type-A energy now being focused on growing the business that was supporting our family.

It was hard on both of us, and it definitely didn’t happen overnight. In fact, we both spent more time than I’d like to admit being frequently frustrated that the other person wasn’t doing things the “right” way.

And I honestly can’t remember exactly when it started, but at some point we began saying this one dumb little sentence to each other, the sentence that I think is ultimately our secret to 20 years of marriage.

You do you, Boo.

At first it was a joke. But it stuck.

Because what it really meant, underneath the silliness, was this:

Let’s stop trying to change each other.

It sounds simple. But for two people as different as we are, it was a game changer.

We finally stopped contradicting each other and started complementing each other.

Because the truth is that he is the yin to my yang and the calm to my storm. Where I am reckless, he is steady.

We are each better together.

Case in point–a few years ago, we were trying to finish a massive pool refurbishment before our daughter Maggie’s graduation party. It was a big project and while Chuck had been working on it for months, the week before the party, he started to panic that it wouldn’t be done in time.

All I needed was his permission to go full “psycho Ruth,” and I was all in. We worked morning until night, pressure washing, staining the pool deck, assembling furniture, and making it all come together, because I refused to let either of us stop until it was done.

The party was perfect.

And when it was over, Chuck said, “I’m so glad you jumped in. I needed you to be the driver.”

It was the moment I realized that, after all this time, we’ve finally learned how to just let each other be exactly who we are.

Leo Tolstoy once wrote, “What counts in making a happy marriage is not so much how compatible you are, but how you deal with incompatibility.“ Along those same lines, Ruth Bell Graham once said, “A happy marriage is the union of two good forgivers.”

In other words? Maybe the most powerful words in your marriage aren’t “I love you,” or even “I’m sorry.”

They’re I want you just the way you are.

Or, as we prefer to say, You do you, Boo.

And I guess that’s the challenge for all of us. To think about that someone in your life you’ve been trying, whether consciously or not, to change. Your spouse. Your teenager. That annoying coworker.

What would it look like to just let them be who they are?

Not because you’re giving up. But because the energy you’ve been spending trying to be right could be going toward something so much better.

Like figuring out how you complement each other instead.

Live with purpose, friend, and have a wonderful week!

xoxo, Ruth

P.S. What’s YOUR secret to a happy marriage? Let me know in the comments below or hit reply to this email—I’d love to hear it!

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