The only thing worse than crying over something sad is crying while you're alone. Yesterday after some unsettling news I tried my best to shake off the fact that I was sad. I watched reruns of Grey's Anatomy, I ate half a bag of Starburst...rinse, repeat. You get the idea. Nothing worked, so I succumbed to the tears. When Mark got home from work, he came into the bedroom sat down on the edge of the bed and gently asked me what was going on. Turns out, having him there was probably best, because as soon as he dragged me into his lap I began to wail. And wail. And wail. It was the ugly kind of crying. The kind where you get snot all over everything within a ten foot radius and can't speak or make any words come out of your mouth other than WAHRGRAWRAGHHHHHHH. (Which I firmly believe means please put me out of my misery-and the sooner the better.) Anyway, he waited patiently for me to come to my senses and snap out of my crying fit to ask me again "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?"
After a few minutes of sobbing and snotting, I was able to talk to him about what was wrong and he gave me the best reply I could have ever hoped for. He said, "What matters is this: You and Me. Us. Our family of 2. We can be supportive and always love our families, but we can't make them normal. Just like they can't make us normal. I love you and you love me. That's all you ever need to worry about. "
Man, is he good or what? I'm not saying that his words swept all of my fears away, but they were more comfort to me than I can explain. He words were loaded with underlying understanding of me and my problems. That's what made my fears subside so quickly. Being understood should never be underestimated.
Mark, I love you more than I could ever say. Thank you for turning my tears and fears with patience and understanding.