For most of my adult life, my needs came last.
Like many women, I learned to be dependable before I learned to be happy. I showed up. I supported. I postponed. I told myself there would be time later — time to rest, to travel, to feel like more than a caretaker moving from one responsibility to the next.
For years, that belief kept me going.
But it also set the stage for the decision that would eventually destroy my marriage.
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