I would like to take this blog to dedicate it to my biggest supporter. My husband, Brant.
I have always known that I am an anxious person, and I have come to live with that. But Brant met me, dated me, found this out (along with my laundry list of other faults) and still decided to ask me to marry him. He gave me a dog for Christmas several years ago who, no matter how much training we give him, still occasionally poops on the floor, and barks at noises as if his life depends on it. And he loves that dumb mutt almost as much as I do. He lets me baby talk to the dogs, and baby talk to him. He lets me spoil his own dog to the point where she has become my personal foot warmer.
He gives me loads of kisses and cuddles whenever I want, and many times when I didn’t know I wanted them. He exercises with me but never calls me fat and doesn’t like it when I call myself fat. He randomly tells me he loves me. He lets me plan all out meals and tells me I am a great cook. He eats anything I bake for him with gusto. He lets me express myself through the myriad of hobbies I have and enjoys the fact I take so much pleasure from them.
He asks me about my day, and listens. Brant tells me about his day every day. He always says “I love you” before leaving for work, and makes sure my car is in good order for me to get to mine. He listens to my neurotic rants when I have had a bad day, and lets me cry it out without any judgment. He shares his worries with me. He lets me help pick out his clothes when he needs new ones, and values my input. There are so many more things about him that I love I cannot possibly put them all down.
Brant is the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I thank God everyday that I managed to get him into my life. I love you, Brant.