I met my husband when I was 23 years old. He was in the academy and carpooling with my neighbor across the road. He and I became best friends. For a year we were best friends. He knew every detail about everything that had ever happened to me before he proposed. He knew I had been molested. He knew I had been raped. He knew that I had the after affects of this. He knew everything. None of that mattered to him. He proposed on Christmas day a few months before I turned 25. He had no idea that I would later get a muscle disease, bone disease, lyme disease, and develop seizures. He had no idea that the PTSD would be something that I would be challenged with in such severe ways. Had he would have known this was yet to come, he would not have cared. The man loves me. He always has.
My legs are atrophied. He carries me down to the beach. He carries me up and down hills. His body seems to have been perfectly made to help me through this time in my life! His heart was perfectly constructed to love me unconditionally through it all. His soul divinely put together with mine as God knew that he was the one to get me through the good and the bad. I think he saved my life. He often tells me that I have inspired his.
He goes on my mindful walks with me every day and looks at every beetle, every piece of moss, every angle of the sun WITH ME. We share our life.
When I lay my head on his chest, I know, without a doubt, everything will be ok. I lay my head on his chest as often as I can.
I can’t imagine how it must be to love someone, like me, with so many physical limitations, and the PTSD. Yet he does with patience, and grace every day. I feel loved. I am loved. He tells me all the time that he loves ALL OF ME. It feels good to be loved. Equally, I love my husband with all of my being.
I look at facebook posts and instagram posts and I wonder, what are those couples like at home, beyond those pictures?
Well my husband works a full time job, does all of the grocery shopping, all of the errands, takes me to doctor appointments, to therapy, to get scans, labs, etc. He comes home and sees that I am unable to do any more so he makes me dinner because he knows I won’t eat if he doesn’t. He massages my legs when they are spasming. He rubs my shoulders if I am in pain. Then he does it all over again the next day and never complains. Do you know why? Because I love him. That love is all he needs. I truly love him. I may not be able to give a lot. I can give presence, I can listen, and I can love.
Love can be enough.
(That extra muscle on that arm does not hurt to look at either! I mean really!!! That arm lifts these legs with no effort. Shhhh I secretly took that 🙂 )