Months of self-doubt, self-hate, and self-destruction culminated in a total catharsis for me this summer. I spent the first half of 2014 thinking I wanted something different –something greater– than what I had, and I nearly risked everything to achieve an “independence” I thought I needed for validation of my worth.

What I nearly did, though, was destroy my marriage with a loving, thoughtful, genuine, and kind-hearted person who did nothing but support me way beyond rationalization. In the lowest moments of my depression, I allowed my insecurities to skew my view of him, and an inner voice convinced me he didn’t love me.

Somehow, despite my manic and illogical behavior, he stood by me. He supported me. He forgave me. He made every effort to understand my suffering, even when I tried to push him away. And, thanks to his love, I got through it. The black filter over my eyes slowly receded, allowing me to see the world for what it truly is: hopeful.

Now, on the other side of the fence, I can look back at 2014 and see my husband for who he is: a saint. I don’t deserve him, but I’ll never make the mistake of letting him go again. And I’ll spend 2015 [and the rest of my life] showing him how much I love him.