He doesn’t (and doesn’t have to) see things my way. He doesn’t have to understand me in order for my reality to exist. He doesn’t have to agree with me for my thoughts to be valid. He doesn’t have to feel the way I feel to make my feelings true.
I’ve sometimes wished that he would feel as miserable as me so he would understand how impossible it feels to be his wife. But now I know that even if he does feel the confusing, painful, threatening, anxiety-ridden, depressing and unceasingly self-hurtful ways I have felt, there is no guarantee that our relationship–or that he–will change.
I must stop wishing him to feel the way I feel because for him to feel like me, I have to act like him. I don’t care if he feels like me or not. I feel like me, and that is becoming enough.