Letter to My Husband
Letter to My Husband If you're reading this, it means you exist. And that my absolute disbelief in soulmates—or even the idea that someone would sign a piece of paper to build a life with me—was wrong. I want to tell you something important. I can bear exhausting myself, but I can’t bear the look in someone’s eyes when they realize they’re done being exhausted by me. I wouldn’t survive the shame of that moment. It would send me into a two-day depressive episode, where I’ll be clinging to the thought that the world isn’t ending, and I have to get up again. There will be days I’ll collapse, triggered by a memory I’ve buried: the fact that no one protected me when I was sexually assaulted as a child. Most times, I’ll trace it all back to the relationship with my mother—the way I keep trying to mother everyone around me, until they walk away. And maybe you will too. You’ll see me having intense cleaning sessions, lost in daydreams that distract me from reality. It’ll break my back, and...