unLovable

We are approaching the one year anniversary of the day my husband packed his bags, and I watched him pull out of the driveway towards a life I couldn’t imagine at the time I’d ever want.

It was that day that I spent the evening curled into the fetal position crying so hard I didn’t think I’d ever find enough air to breathe again.  While I could fully comprehend that the time we’d have to spend apart was relatively brief (5 months), there was a lot surrounding the move that just upended my world.

I was depressed.  Even thinking about it now makes me want to ugly cry.  I was a shell of a person.  I was in no way the best version of myself.  Absolutely the farthest thing from it, in fact.

I’m embarrassed to admit that now.  I allowed life to knock me down, and I couldn’t pick myself up.  If it had been up to me, I would have spent the entire 5 months in a perpetual ugly cry.  Trust me, I tried.

But there’s this girl.  Our friendship, though her connection to my family runs deep, was pretty new.  And I’m fairly certain my ugly cry would send the weak running for the hills.

But this girl wouldn’t let me be alone.  

I probably ruined a lot of her sweaters with my mascara stained tears.  And I’m sure all of her extra money was spent on wine and coffee to make me smile.  She’d spend the night so I didn’t have to worry through the night.  She was silly and goofy and made sure, despite how badly my heart was aching, that I was laughing.  Looking back on it all now, I don’t think I actually spent much time alone at all.  It didn’t matter if it was a work night and she had a bed of her own–if I needed her, she was at my house–asleep on my couch.

(I know I recently shared this photo.  But this was a very typical night for us.  Down to the puffy/red i-just-cried-my-eyes-out eyes on me).