Dear Husband,
I am struggling. The load I carry as a wife, mom, employee, daughter, friend, cook, housekeeper, taxi driver, nurse, activities coordinator, judge, warden, referee, hairdresser, manager, etc. is usually more than I can bear.
But, you can’t fix it. I know you want to. I know you think that if you take a few of these balls that I’m juggling I will be okay. But I won’t. Because it’s not the balls that are the problem, it’s much deeper than that.
My load is not just a list of chores, responsibilities, and jobs. It’s mental: the things I need to remember, the regrets I have, and the dreams I dream. It has cluttered my brain and ruined my focus. It is incredibly frustrating and the demands inside shout much louder than any external voice. I know you don’t understand but it is normal. And, though pushing through is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, it is worth it. For you. For our family. For us.