The door shuts and I walk away.
How easy it would be just to ignore him for the rest of the day. Month. Year.
How quickly could I shut the door on my emotions, build a wall, close the window on how I feel.
Easier said than done I suppose.
But those aren’t things I want to do.
This man has seen me through things no one else has.
He was there through my pregnancy, child-birth, and through the depths of my depression.
He saw me through med changes, cold sweats, crying, and hell that is bipolar disorder.
This man reminded me daily that I was enough, for him, for my work, for my family, and for my friends.
He built me up when I was crumbling, sure that I wasn’t good enough, strong enough, and was struggling to survive.
This man who I swear drives me bananas.
But regardless, he’s mine.
He may leave his socks on the floor (right beside the laundry basket), leave his shoes on and walk through the house, and make a three course meal at 10pm but he’s one hell of a father and an incredible partner.
I couldn’t do it without him.
arguments arise, discussions take place, and sometimes they get heated.
We talk in circles (especially me), and we go over the same topics (especially me), but we come together in the end.
There will always be disagreements, hurt feelings, and the occasional night in the spare room (mostly because of snoring), but I never forget the connection.
He is my lobster.
My mate for life.