How I Married the One Who Tore My Walls Down
After six years, countless adventures and memories, ups and downs (of mostly my moods and anxiety levels) and a few uncertainties and doubts, I married my rock.
I’m complicated. He isn’t. And I learned over the years that this is the recipe for our success as partners. Every day is different for me, and I never know what I/we are going to face. There is anxiety every single day, or my “base,” and from there the anxiety can get much worse, and/or depression hits and I feel completely numb, senseless and emotionless.
Two instances in my past have turned the walls I already built around myself into an unbreakable fortress. In high school, when my depression first surfaced and I struggled with finding my place and my way, someone called me a “misery chick” behind my back. That was nearly 20 years ago, and it still haunts me. Ten years later, I was dropped on a curb at an airport (literally) and stood there and watched a major part of my life walk away because my illness was “too hard” to deal with.
Because of these events, I’ve stayed behind my fortress walls, keeping all of this pain and confusion and worry to myself, so as to not bring anyone else down. “No one wants to see that,” “don’t make anyone uncomfortable,” “keep your appearance light and happy,” I would tell myself, all while self-destructing inside. No one has ever allowed me to truly let go, to let the ugly out, to be completely vulnerable… until him.
For the last six years, he’s chipped away at my walls with incredible patience, kindness and willingness to learn about what I’m going through and importantly, how to take care of himself in the midst of all of this. He’s there through it all. Every day, every phase, every mood, every worry and every fear. He’s proved to me time and time again that it’s possible to live and be loved while trying to manage this illness.
We got married last month on a beautiful fall day at a winery. He was with me before the ceremony in the bridal suite bathroom, me in my dress hovering over the toilet and he in his suit, helping me through an anxiety attack. He was the one who was sure the wedding would go on while others questioned. He was the one who helped me turn the corner to enjoying our wedding day when I met him at the end of the aisle.
With six solid years behind us, I’m confident going into our next adventure that when we arrive at the airport, we’ll be going together and when I’m a misery chick, he’ll be sitting next to me, holding my hand.
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