The night my husband and I were supposed to go to a concert, I sat in my parked car hyperventilating from a panic attack.
I was supposed to meet The Balkan Storm there, and I did make it, but barely. I pushed myself through every moment, from getting dressed to getting in the car, parking, and walking in.
And I managed it so well that later, he told me he had no idea I was struggling. Meanwhile, I thought it was painfully obvious I was thisclose to hurling.
Some days, even a simple dinner out feels impossible. For some reason, I currently battle social anxiety and overstimulation; the working theory is that my brain is finally in the headspace (pardon the pun) to process the past.
In other words, the reward for finally being safe and loved is your brain saying, "So hey, remember all those times you didn't get to fall apart? Cool, here they come, so buckle up."
And this man of mine- he doesn’t try to fix it. He just sits there with me, without judgment.
The funny thing is, we both not-so-secretly think we're the crazier one. Like that line from Deadpool: "Your crazy matches my crazy".
So in the moments when anxiety takes over despite my best efforts, he doesn't make me feel anything but loved.
And believe me when I say, compared to my past experience with marriage, this kind of support still catches me off guard in the best way.
But this isn’t just a story about him, or me, or even the marriage. It’s about the life we built when no one thought we would, when even we weren’t sure we could.
For a long time, I wanted love so badly that I would turn myself into whatever someone else preferred. (Yes, it's humiliating to admit this in print, but here we are).
But after a particularly painful heartbreak, I finally outgrew the need for external validation.
So later that night, I sat alone by the fireplace, pen in hand, and made a list of what I actually needed. (Sounds so deliciously Gothic, doesn’t it?).
Page after page, I wrote down the qualities that mattered. He had to have ambition, a sense of humor, self-respect, and a life that didn't revolve entirely around me.
A man secure enough to value a strong woman. Someone determined to leave a legacy, even if it was only in the hearts of his family.
I didn’t actually believe a man like that existed (aside from movies and well-written obituaries).
Writing that list felt a little like casting a spell, because a few weeks later, he materialized.
