I can think of times when my husband, who I have been with off and on since my junior year of high school (almost half my life), would look at me and say “What’s wrong?” and I just could not get the words out. Sometimes this would lead to him feeling badly for me, but often I believe he felt frustrated. What was so wrong about my life that I could sob for hours in bed? Was I not grateful for all the good things I had? I wish it were that simple. Truthfully, knowing that I had so much and yet felt so bad just made me feel worse. What a horrid person I am, I’d think to myself. He’s right, why does he even put up with me? And the dark thoughts would keep spiraling, down, down, down.
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