This is a stream of consciousness post. It was typed in one sitting, in one go, with no edits. Any italic or bold text was done with CTRL-I or CTRL-B.
I love my husband more than anything, and the two years I have spent with him mean more to me than the 26 I spent without him. Together we have built a family – even the ugly parts. Financial decisions weight upon us like any other family in the world, but we always pull through and make it work because we have a support system. More importantly, we have each other.
My anxiety is rampant and I never know what to do with my hands. I loathe my body, and there is so much for me to do all the time, even though I don’t even have a job. My mind can be a pretty dark place much of the time, but when he comes in the room, everything is alight with light of knowing that I am loved.
He is raising my daughter as his own, and he has given me a son that is the light of my life. He completes the part of me that wants to be a part of something important. My family is important.
Hopefully, through my writing I am creating something important. Because I feel like my own personal importance will be manifest in the children I raise, the support I give my husband, and the art I create. My writing is the way for me to make something beautiful for people to hold on to, and I hope that is clear. But it may not be. And if it isn’t, I need to work on that. My writing is for the world, not for me alone. For me, it is the act of writing that is my catharsis, not the finished product.
Someday, I’ll feel like I, too, am important.