I broke down today.
Relentlessly crying in my husband’s arms I admitted the truth.
The words were directed at him, but it wasn’t his revelation.
Through the breaks in my sobbing I heard myself admitting the truth to myself.
A month, perhaps a few months ago, he pleaded with me to go to the doctor and to talk about the options of medicine.
I thought he was not giving me enough credit of how well I had been doing lately, and of all the steps I had been taking.
To my mind my improvements were giant leaps.
At the time he had stated the obvious, “It still shouldn’t have to be such a daily struggle.”
I felt like my good days are very good and my bad days are not nearly as wrecking.
Even when something did start to get out of sorts…I didn’t explode.
It was minor to diffuse and everything got lighter and happier in much shorter amounts of time.
Except, more recently, that’s not been the case.
Days that have started off very good will quickly and unexpectedly start to unravel.
I’m not even always sure of the trigger.
It’s like starting to drown.
The overwhelming weight to do simple tasks.
Struggling beneath the crashing waves of ugly thoughts.
And tonight everything just felt wrong.
I couldn’t stop crying.
Praying for courage I knew what I had to do.
“You’re right,” I told him.
I thought I had been doing all the right things, and I know I am doing many beneficial things for all areas of my health.
But I can’t fix myself, and I feel out of control of my emotions.
The amazing thing about my husband is that he is a man of few words.
Sometimes (many times) that can drive me crazy.
I cried out all the lonely and desperately sad words that have wanted to pour out of my heart.
“I love you,” is all he said, and that is exactly and all the words needed.