It’s Scary To Let Someone In, But There Is A Way.

How I surrendered to being loved.

Photo by Mary Taylor from Pexels

“I don’t understand,” my husband tells me as I’m weeping next to him in the car for the fourth time that day.

To be frank, I don’t either. I’m just mad at him. I’m so mad; I can’t calm down.

He has the money to get me a car now, and I really want it. But every time we start discussing it, he asks questions like “Do you really need it?” and “How much do you think we should spend on something you don’t need?”

I act like a brat, I know. We don’t need it, and we could put that money towards something else, something better, something smarter.

I want it, though. It’s a feeling of desperation. Over a car.

I can’t stop crying because, in my mind, this stupid situation with the stupid car is so much bigger.

It tells me what I want isn’t important to him. It tells me my husband doesn’t think I deserve to be spoiled from time to time, just for the sake of it. It’s too much. A second-hand little car is just too much for a man who recently exited his business and made an alright sum.

It tells me I’m not enough. And that hurts. I can’t stop. I know I’m losing it. My throat burns. My nose is running. It’s a pathetic sight.