Part of me hopes that you read this post, and part of me really hopes that you don't. But I need to get this out, and I hope that no matter what, you'll understand that.
You terrified me this weekend. When you fell in the kitchen I thought you'd had a stroke or a heart attack or an embolism or something..
I think my heart truly stopped beating.
I like to think that I can handle things, and I know that you like to think that I can, but in that split second, I felt like I had gone back to two years ago. And all of the fear and all of the pain came rushing back at me.
And then I ran to you and you were disoriented, but ok.
Still I was so scared.
I don't think you understand the depth of my relief when everything turned out to be caused by dehydration.
I felt like a mountain had been lifted from my shoulders, and for the first time in hours, I could breathe.
And when I got to bring you home - that was like the world began to spin again.
I'm not saying this because I want you to be upset that you worried me. I just want you to know that I'm not as strong as you think I am. And I don't want you to stop showing weakness in front of me, because I promise, my imagination is far worse than your reality. I just want you to understand that at any point I could break. Because I'm not as strong as you are. And the thought of losing you is completely unbearable to me.
I'm so unbelievably glad that you're home. And that this time, at least, everything is fine.
But my heart is already looking for next time, and bracing myself for a fall.
You've asked me before how I could think that you would leave me (apparantly there's been some sleep-talking). And I've never really answered that question:
I don't think that you would leave me voluntarily. But I do think you would leave.