In my effort to clean up my blog, I've been paging through my archives. I started this blog 5+ years ago, so there's a fair amount of stuff documented here. I didn't (and don't) often go into full detail about what was going on, so it's interesting to see what things merited "casual" mention here, and then compare/contrast to my memories of what was actually going on.

Mostly I've been struck by the frequent references to Brian as "my husband" and all the compliments I lobbed his way. Why was I so deliberate about mentioning him frequently, and why did I mention him the ways I did? Maybe it was one of my smaller (of many, multi-level) attempts at showing him how much I loved him. The motivation might have been innocent, being a newlywed and all. When I love, I love deeply and widely. It colors everything and is part of the undercurrent of my life, awareness, thought, everything. So it's entirely possible that I mentioned Brian so often and so lovingly because loving my husband was just a part of breathing.

But a part of me now wonders if I was already sensing that things were very, very wrong and I was casting any lifeline I could find. "See how much I love you?" is what the cynical me reads in those lines. Don't you love me this much, too? and maybe there's a touch of please tell me you love me this much, too.

One thing is certain: I don't want to make those pleas ever again. I was wildly convinced of Brian's love for me. I had no idea what to do when it became apparent that he didn't love me anymore, and I still have no idea how to react to the suggestions that he never loved me to begin with. He was so convincing. He'd given his word, and I'd believed him. I trusted him. I took vows.

In my quiet, frightened, lonely, dark times, I wonder if I will ever be wildly convinced, by anyone, ever again.

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