Here I am writing a blog post when I didn’t think I could do it this week. I’ve been going through a lot lately, and for once it has nothing to do with having bipolar. Honestly, I would rather it had to do with bipolar—words I’ve never spoken. It has to do with my life, with what happened long ago and what is happening now.

On Saturday, Bryan and I will celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary. In some ways it feels like it has only been a few years, but in other ways it feels like a lifetime. Sometimes it’s a lifetime in a bad way (marriage is no walk in the park), and sometimes in a good way, a dream come true. 

He has always been by my side, building me up. And I don’t think I give him enough credit. It’s hard not to take your spouse for granted at least some of the time just based on time spent, routine, and bouts of monotony. 

I need to try harder. I want to make sure he understands how much my life changed for the better when I met him and how much I rely on his steady presence. 

Since November when I experienced the trigger, which triggered trauma I have not named publicly for fear of that being another trigger, this man has not wavered. I waver—actually I try to remain upright like a reporter blowing around in a hurricane—while he stands strong. 

Even though the trauma is with us every day and has made itself comfortable in our home, he’s never once made me feel like a burden for dragging it in. He is a good, decent man. He has lots of other more flashy qualities, but at his core he is solid, and solid is what I need right now.

I am grateful to be with him, even more each day as we deal with this nightmare. He walks through the nightmare with me and acts like he’s exactly where he wants to be. But he’s not acting.