Why I Love My Husband

I've been a little wound up lately. With hours of final projects and homework assignments weighing me down, along with the termination of my internship and job, and the prospect of applying for "real" jobs, I've been stressed. My tendency during these times is to turn to all of the flaws I see in myself and rip myself to shreds. My mom's voice starts screaming in my head louder than anything else going on in my life, and I start to revert back to disordered thinking patterns. One morning this past week, it got to be so overwhelming as I looked at the number on the scale, and before I left for my 7 a.m. class, I made notes to tape to the fridge. On three sheets of paper, I wrote, "Have you gone to the gym today?" "Eat a salad!" and "No Sweets. No Sugar. Are you really hungry, or just bored?" Before I left for work, Bobby saw them and asked what they were about. When I came home from work, the signs were covered with his own signs. "You are a daughter of God," "Your husband loves you," and "You are beautiful."

Even after I was the one who begged and pleaded for a dog, he's the one that wakes up in the wee hours of the morning to let her outside. He got so stressed out about money and finances, and then let me get a bunch of clothes from Plato's Closet so I'd have something to wear for my job interviews. And so I can start working as soon as possible, he's given up going to Las Vegas for a vacation, even though he needs a vacation more than anything.

I have the best husband in the world. I know everyone says that, but seriously. He's my everything.