It has been a rough year. Probably top 2 for the worst ever. At the bottom, I found myself thinking, "I am just too unhappy to try to make my life better right now." My sense of humor and irony were still around and I rolled my eyes at myself. So on better days I started thinking about how the hell to get out of that place.

So.. where shall I place the credit? I guess, it belongs at my husband's feet. No, he wasn't at fault for my unhappiness - we worked to get ourselves into a ridiculously desperate situation as a team. Shared the bad decisions, carried the flag of doom while singing Kumbaya. Kumbaya stopped abruptly and a financial, psychological, emotional disaster followed. For a few months, no more hymns were shared, nor laughs. The only thing we shared, at the low point, was a sense of complete desperation. But we could still lean on each other - simply because the pillars were still standing, and we did, by habit.

Then one day I looked over, and realized, he was not in pain - and that it's been a while. I recalled conversations from the past month, and realized, his outlook had changed. He was no longer surviving day by day, but building his life. There were again things he was excited about, things that made him happy, things he was sharing with me in the hopes they would improve my life as well. There had been no announcement, no proclamation of "starting a new life" that usually accompanies such a change in me. He just found the strength, and it produced heat that was melting the frozen-in-time state I was still in.

It took months for cobwebs to clear. One day I realized I was thinking a year into the future and that it had been the first time in a while. I started becoming aware of my ability to make decisions about my life - think beyond what had to be done today so tomorrow would not be worse. It occurred to me that if I didn't like my job, I could change it.

And Jeff was there. We talked. And we fought. And he made me cry. But, boy, is it easier to get out of the fog with a guide! For a moment in time, I was Atlas Shrugged's James Taggard, wondering the streets of New York, in terror of the foggy alleys inside his own head. God damned, that was irritating. So I talked. I admitted to evasions, to dishonesty and folly. He didn't beat me up further, didn't offer judgment, just lit the path that I knew was there.

About a week ago I recognized that I was happy. Like just normal enjoying my life kind of happy that I have taken for granted for some number of years now. I am still shaken. And a disproportionate amount of my time is going into taking care of me. I take the time to play video games if that is what I want to do. I often let the kids watch TV while I do what pulls me. I just take a lot more me time than I ever have in my life. And I am ok. I think I made it. And I don't want to go back!

And to my husband, you saved me. Again.