Dear Husband,

I am struggling. The load I carry as a wife, mom, employee, daughter, friend, cook, housekeeper, taxi driver, nurse, activities coordinator, judge, warden, referee, hairdresser, manager, etc., is usually more than I can bear.

But, you can’t fix it. I know you want to. I know you think that if you take a few of these balls that I’m juggling I will be okay. But I won’t. Because it’s not the balls that are the problem, it’s much deeper than that.

My load is not just a list of chores, responsibilities, and jobs. It’s mental: the things I need to remember, the regrets I have, the dreams I dream. It has cluttered my brain and ruined my focus. It is incredibly frustrating and the demands inside shout much louder than any external voice. I know you don’t understand but it is normal. And, though pushing through is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, it is worth it. For you. For our family. For us.

Please don’t think you are failing me. Please don’t try to fix me. I’m not broken.

Just listen. Make it okay for me to not be okay. Be the safe place I need to fall apart.

That’s it. That is all I need. I will be OK. As long as you are with me.