There’s something I need to apologize for. And it’s the same reason I cry when you tell me you love me. Without fail. Every time. I cry.

I am not saying I am ashamed of myself, I’m not apologizing out of shame. I recognize that my struggle does not lessen my intrinsic value or make me less worthy of love and affection than anyone else. I know I am strong and capable, and I deserve happiness as much as anyone else. I also know what you go through on my behalf and how hard you try. I see the sacrifices you make, the effort you put in, the silent surrender to the days when I am not fully able. I see how it hurts when you can’t fix it and how you wish a word, an embrace, a kiss could change things for the better in an instant. I know you don’t want me to be in pain.

I revere it. I recognize it. I respect it. I love you so desperately for it.

You know who you are, there’s no need for direct address or details. There are things I could say, that I could express, that are too intimate for this platform. So, instead, I will say what I am sure many others themselves wish they could say to loved ones of their own: I am sorry for the days when my anxiety wins.

I know in a lot of ways, this probably was not what you expected or even wanted. But that’s the beauty of it all: even in the darkest moments, you never seemed to flinch in your commitment. I had a hard time accepting anyone could do that for me. But in time, I saw in your eyes, I am a whole person, even when I can’t see it. You don’t see someone sick, you see someone strong. You don’t see a woman who feels invalidated as an individual or requires more of an “effort” than maybe more “normal” people. You see a woman who wakes up every day knowing there’s a battle and facing it full on. You see a woman of courage. And even on the days of irrational fear, panic and paranoia, you stay. You whisper you love me.

And I cry every time.

I cry because of the grace, patience, acceptance and love you demonstrate in those moments, and in each day. When I hurt you, when I blame you, when I can’t perceive reality correctly but instead fall victim to the terrifying lie that everything is falling apart and it’s my fault, you work through it with me. You walk through it with me. You reach out a supportive hand as I limp along.

I am so sorry you have to be witness to the mess I can make of myself. And the mess I can make of us. But then I remember you’re not sorry at all. You love me. And I stop apologizing and simply experience the full, loving embrace of deep gratitude. There are so many out there who don’t have that kind of support and encouragement; they battle this alone. I hope and pray someday I can be the pillar of strength for someone the way you have been for me.

Thank you. I love you.