Honestly? I’ve had days where I’d just stare at the ceiling and wonder, “What’s the point of all this?” No amount of success or social interaction filled that hollow space. What helped wasn’t a sudden breakthrough — it was small things. A walk with my dog. The smell of coffee in the morning. And slowly, I realized meaning isn’t always loud or dramatic. Sometimes it’s quiet and waiting.

When I hit rock bottom, I stopped asking, “What’s the big purpose?” and instead asked, “What can I care about today?” For me, it was volunteering at an animal shelter. Watching a rescued dog wag its tail reminded me that even small acts mean something. You don’t need a grand mission — just one thing that makes you feel something again.

I remember staring at my closet one day thinking, “Who even am I now?” I had merged into his world so much that I lost track of mine. I started doing small things just for me—taking a pottery class, writing again, volunteering. He supported it all. Depending on him didn’t mean disappearing into his shadow. It meant having the safety to find myself again. And that, to me, was liberation.

There were nights I just broke down crying beside him—not because he had the answers, but because I didn’t. Turning 50 made me feel lost, like I wasn’t sure who I was anymore. Leaning on him didn’t make me weak. It brought us closer. I realized emotional reliance isn’t weakness when it comes with trust, communication, and respect. Sometimes, love means letting yourself lean in without fear of falling.