I told my husband I thought I needed therapy

Dear Delyara, I had been rehearsing that sentence for weeks. Not because he is unkind, but because saying it out loud would make the state I’m in feel real. As long as I kept calling it stress, or hormones, or tiredness, I could still pretend I might fix it by getting more organized or trying harder at the week. One night after dinner, while he was drying the dishes, I just said it. “I think I need therapy.” He didn’t look shocked. He didn’t ask me to defend it. He just turned the tap off and said, “Okay. Let’s sort it.” I cried in a way I hadn’t planned to. Mostly from relief. Asking for help made the problem more real, yes, but it also made me less alone inside it.