The Rule I Wrestle With Most

 

The Rule I Wrestle With Most

If I’m honest, there is one rule in our marriage that humbles me more than any other.

Respect.

Of all the structures we’ve built over the years, this is the one I stumble over the most. Not because I don’t value my husband. Not because I don’t love him deeply. But because I am, at times, strong-willed, quick-tongued, and emotionally intense.

Sometimes I talk before I think.

• Sometimes I encounter someone making what I consider a dumb comment, and my restraint evaporates.
• Sometimes stress presses in so tightly that sharpness slips out sideways.
• Sometimes fear makes me defensive.
• Sometimes I deflect because I don’t want to sit in the discomfort of being corrected.
• And sometimes — this is the hardest part to admit — I don’t even realize I was disrespectful until my husband gently points it out and I’ve had time to calm down and reflect.

That one stings.

Because I am not proud when I am disrespectful. It doesn’t feel strong. It doesn’t feel empowered. It feels childish and reactive. And afterward, when the adrenaline fades, I can usually see clearly how my tone, my facial expression, or my words created distance instead of unity.

Respect is more than just “not yelling.” In our marriage, it includes tone, posture, timing, and willingness to receive leadership without contempt. It means I don’t roll my eyes. I don’t mock. I don’t belittle. I don’t weaponize sarcasm. It means I pause instead of pouncing.

And that pause? That is where I often fail.

Most of the time, when I am openly disrespectful — especially if it is willful or sharp — the consequence is a spanking along with another corrective measure. Sometimes it’s writing. Sometimes it’s quiet reflection. Sometimes it’s loss of a privilege. It depends on the situation and my heart behind it.

Spankings in our home are reserved for more serious matters, and disrespect falls into that category because it strikes at the heart of our marriage dynamic. It erodes trust. It undermines leadership. It creates instability.

We treat it seriously because I want it treated seriously.

That part matters.

This is not something done to me without my agreement. This is something I have asked help with. I truly want to break this behavior. I don’t want my stress, fear, or pride to have the final word in our home. I don’t want to be a woman who wounds with her mouth and then shrugs it off as personality.

When I am corrected, especially physically, it cuts through my defensiveness in a way lectures never could. It forces me to stop. To feel. To acknowledge. To reset. And when it’s followed by reassurance and closeness, it reminds me that the goal isn’t punishment — it’s restoration.

The deeper issue, I’ve realized, is rarely the comment itself.

• It’s stress.

• It’s fear.

• It’s insecurity.

• It’s feeling overwhelmed.

• It’s wanting control when I feel out of control.

Disrespect becomes my shield.

But shields create distance from the very person who is meant to be my safe place.

Over time, I’ve become more aware of my triggers. I can now often feel the heat rising before the words come. I am learning to say, “I need a moment,” instead of firing off something sharp. I am learning that strength doesn’t mean winning the exchange — it means mastering myself.

I still fail.

But I fail faster and recover quicker.

And every time I am held accountable, it reinforces something important: my words matter. My tone matters. The atmosphere I help create in my home matters.

Respect is the rule I wrestle with most because it requires the most self-control. It requires humility. It requires surrender of ego.

But it is also the rule that has shaped me the most.

• I am softer now.

• Quicker to apologize.

• More aware.

• More thoughtful.

• More careful.

Not perfect — but growing.

If you’re in a domestic discipline marriage and struggling with the respect rule too, you are not alone. Being strong-willed is not a flaw. It just needs direction. Fire can warm a home or burn it down. I am learning how to contain mine.

And I am grateful I have a husband who loves me enough to help me master it — even when it’s uncomfortable.

Growth rarely is comfortable. - But it is always worth it.