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I hate feeling alone.  I’ve always needed *someone* that I know I can count on to feel whole.  I’m not sure why that is but it’s just how it is.  I suppose I could find someone to pick apart my brain enough to figure that out for me but I’m not sure it would do any good.  Or would it?  

I’ve spent the greater part of my life, proving I could do everything on my own.  I still struggle to ask for help.  I still take on so many things at once because I think I can do everything. And I do and it’s usually alone.  I spend 99% of my time taking care of everyone else by me.  I’m not even sure 1% is on me but I’ll give it the benefit of the doubt.  

I’m just tired of feeling this way.  I know I’ve had this conversation with my husband and he did his best to *try* and make it better.  But he’s been gone for work or hunting since September.  I’m watching ABC Family Christmas Movies at night by myself with tears in my eyes because I wish I had some sort of mythical relationship with all of the Christmas chatter.  This should all end this weekend when he is finally home for a few days.  But I just know it’s not.  It’s going to take me having some sort of nervous break down and him making me feel like a selfish child because I want *more*.  He busts his ass for us and I’m never satisfied.  I’m not holding up my end of the bargain by not being the perfect 1950s housewife.  The words are not exact but the meaning is and it echoes in my head because we’ve been down this road before.  We’ve had this conversation before and therefore I already know the result.  Isn’t that the definition of insanity?