Love is no longer a red heart drawn with crayon. It’s much more complicated than that.
I find myself in a minority group of women. Women who love their husbands, and they love us in return. This should be a great thing yes? But then why am I plagued with guilt? Women talk. We share secrets. Sometimes it is talking to other women we realise how good or how bad we have it in the love department. I want to say, “I was just like you!” But I know they don’t care. I want to say, “I felt that way too!” But I know they are going to roll their eyes at me. I’ve had not-so-great relationships but this is actually a good thing because I can now appreciate my husband so much more. Ever hear someone say about someone else, “they’ve had a rough life” and the people listening all nod their heads sympathetically? Well, I say who cares if they did! We all have had it tough! But now I’m happy because I chose to be. I chose my path, I chose what life I wanted and I chose him. Love sucks when you find yourself on a one-way street so I’m glad love found me when I wasn’t looking.