soap operas are us

Well. Hello.
Ahem.
Things are fine. Maybe even good.
My psychiatrist told me that he couldn't help me and that drugs probably couldn't help me. They couldn't help me until i helped myself. Until i made changes in my life. Drugs aren't going to make negative things positive. Drugs aren't going to make your husband bring in the garbage.
And so, perhaps, like all other things we have to go to the bottom. Have that big blowout before things can get better. Or you even want to make things better. You have to see what you are risking. What you are losing before you realize how very much you want that thing. You need that thing.
And so we have talked. A little. We have kissed and made up. We love each other. And he knows, and i know, having been through all of this before, how difficult this can be.
I understand i am hard to love. I am stubborn. I am moody. I have high expectations.
And so does he. And so is he.
And so are we. We are determined to make this work. To love and be loved. To love our kids. To send them out in the world as prepared as possible. To not believe that everything just works out. Anything worth anything is worth working on.
And, crap, these are tiring days. This is the busy time. This is the endless time.
This is the time to move forward. To get better.