How Lucky am I?- Father's Day
I know I am a day late, but for a good reason, I promise; instead of writing about how amazing my husband Mark is, showing him by closing my computer and focusing on family. I was going to make a sappy Instagram post about how great he is, but I am dramatic AF and wanted to go the extra mile and write a blog post about him. Why not show off the luck I had with marrying this hunk of mine. This handsome fella has taught me how to love, live, and how to never give up on my hopes and dreams.
Our relationship isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but true love never is. It is about wanted to lose your shit and the other person knowing your quirks to calm you. True love is when you’re thinking of walking out the door and never look back, realizing how much you love their one dimple on their face that shows more then they smirk at you. Growing old together and being your one and only is about not giving up, not looking for reasons to why you deserve better, but seeing the reasons why they are the best for you. Focusing on the little things they do that fills your heart with joy, from waking you up with a cup of coffee to get your day started, to saying that same lame ass joke that you can’t help but giggle with.
True love is all about perspective; seeing your husband come home grumpy and tired from work, and rolling your eyes because he wasn’t all warm and fuzzy. Or you can see that same man walk in the exact same way but seeing how hard he works at a job he doesn’t like so you can pursue your dreams as a writer. I never thought I could love my husband and be excited to have him around as I did at our “honeymoon stage” when we started dating, but fuck, 9 years later he has me feeling butterflies every time I look at him, giggling internally like a high school girl when he texts me “hey baby.”
True love isn’t about finding the perfect person that checks most if not all on your “perfect person to date checklist,” but finding the person that helps you thrive in being the best perfect version of you. Being someone who severely suffers from anxiety and depression, I don’t how many times my husband has found me in a state of tears wanting to give up on everything (including writing) and just wanting to stop living (Yes, I have suffered and still suffer from suicidal thoughts). He doesn’t run going “I can find someone better than this psycho bitch,” he sits down holding me, kissing my forehead, telling me everything I have accomplished, how much of an amazing mother I am, how much I am adored, and how badass I can be when I am determined.
He gets me from under the blanket in bed to my desk to write, reminding me that I have not hundreds but thousands of people looking forward to my next post, first novel, or future product. He reminds me of the happy go lucky little girl I have inside that is buried by my mental illness, the woman he fell in love with when we met. He has shown me what true love is by not giving up on me when I have given up on myself. That is love folks, not someone who restrains you from being your best by using any reasoning, not someone who spoils you materialistically and not spiritual. Love is a challenge because your partner is continually challenging you to be better, to be the best.
As I’ve said in a previous post, not all heroes wear capes; mine wears a hardhat and a muddy pair of boots.
Xaviar and I are extraordinarily lucky to have you in our lives, to love and hold us in our times of needs. I couldn’t have picked a better husband and singularly father for my child(ren). You are honestly the best father I've ever seen, and how you love our son and take care of him pushes me to be the best mother I can be. Xaviar looks up to you in various ways and has a phenomenal role model that helps mould him into the unique, compassionate, convivial individual he is becoming.
Thank you, Mark, for being our love, our rock, our support, our partner in crime; thank you for being our person. We love you.