But marriage goes in waves. You've got to be patient. People bail

The words of Anna Benson—“But marriage goes in waves. You’ve got to be patient. People bail and give up on their marriages way too early. They just don’t put the work and the effort into it. You’ve got to suck up your ego a lot of times, because that can be a big downfall.”—speak with the clarity of experience and the gravity of truth. They remind us that love is not a calm sea, but a tide that rises and falls, a rhythm of closeness and distance, peace and storm. In these words lies a lesson as old as time itself: that patience, not passion, is the true anchor of a lasting union, and that the greatest enemy of love is not hardship, but ego.

Marriage, as Benson so rightly observes, moves in waves—cycles of tenderness and trial, of joy and struggle. Many mistake the receding tide for the end of love, not understanding that it is merely the sea gathering strength to return. The heart, like the ocean, cannot be still forever; it must move, it must breathe, it must endure change. To remain steadfast in such motion requires not blindness to hardship, but faith in renewal. Those who endure the storm discover that love, once lost beneath the waves, can rise again—deeper, calmer, more enduring than before.

In every age, those who abandoned love too soon mistook difficulty for doom. Yet the ancients knew: that which is most precious is forged in trial. The blacksmith tempers his blade with fire and hammer; so too must marriage be tempered by struggle. When two souls share life’s journey, the friction of pride and difference will come. But it is through that very friction that understanding is born. To flee when the waves grow high is to forsake the harbor just before the calm.

Consider the enduring story of Nelson and Winnie Mandela. Their marriage was tested not by ordinary storms, but by the cruel years of separation and imprisonment. Distance, misunderstanding, and the weight of history bore down upon them, and though their union did not survive in the world’s eyes, their endurance taught a greater truth—that even love’s trials can forge dignity, patience, and strength. Their story reminds us that love, like all great things, demands sacrifice, and that ego—our need to be right, to be honored, to be first—must often be laid down so that peace may endure.

To suck up the ego, as Benson puts it with earthy wisdom, is perhaps the hardest labor in love. For ego whispers, “I am right,” while love asks, “What is best for us?” Ego builds walls; love breaks them down. The wise know that the moment you triumph over your partner, you lose the battle for harmony. True strength in marriage is not dominance, but surrender—the surrender of pride, of impatience, of the need to win. When both hearts humble themselves, the tide of love returns, washing away resentment like sand before the sea.

And indeed, many today give up too soon. In a world of swift exchanges and instant gratification, we forget that relationships, like gardens, require time to root and bloom. There will be seasons of drought, when affection withers, and seasons of rain, when tenderness floods anew. Those who endure both reap the harvest of wisdom—the quiet joy of companionship built not on illusion, but on shared survival. Love deepens not in the absence of hardship, but in the courage to face it together.

The lesson, then, is this: be patient in the waves. When the waters rise, do not panic; when they fall, do not despair. Tend to love with labor as you would a sacred fire—feeding it with small acts of care, humility, and gratitude. Remember that to love another is to face yourself, to strip away the pride that blinds you to what truly matters. Every time you choose patience over anger, listening over shouting, compassion over triumph, you rebuild the very foundation of your bond.

So let this wisdom pass down through the generations: marriage, like the sea, cannot be mastered—it must be navigated with humility and faith. When the storms come, anchor yourself in patience and love, not pride. When the waves recede, cherish the calm. And when you look upon your partner not as an opponent but as a fellow sailor, struggling beside you through the same storm, you will find that the tide, though fierce, always leads you home.