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Too Tired to Celebrate, Too Lucky Not To (Slightly Unhinged Anniversary Edition)
It’s my anniversary.
And if I’m being honest… I’m too tired to celebrate.
I could blame Mayo Clinic.
And honestly, I will—just a little. The appointments, the procedures, the exhaustion that hits like a truck and then backs up just to make sure it did the job.
But also… they’re probably the reason I’m even here to celebrate at all.
So fine. They can have partial credit. Not full credit. Let’s not get carried away.
My body feels like a battlefield some days.
Not the glamorous, poetic kind. Not the kind where you’re like, “wow, she’s so strong.”
More like… “wow, she needs a nap and maybe a snack and possibly a new body.”
But my marriage?
That’s not the battlefield.
I got really lucky.
Like… suspiciously lucky.
I got a man who says what he thinks and feels. Out loud. In real sentences. With clarity.
No guessing. No decoding. No “what did he mean by that text from three hours ago?”
Just… communication.
Which, frankly, feels illegal in today’s dating standards.
We don’t really fight.
Well—he doesn’t.
I absolutely can. I can have a moment. I can have several moments. I can build a full argument with supporting evidence, emotional exhibits, and a closing statement.
And he?
He just… watches.
Calm. Steady. Probably wondering how long this presentation is going to run.
He waits for me to come back to my senses.
Which I do. Eventually. After I’ve made my point. And a few bonus points.
He’s steady.
And when your body is out here acting like it has its own personality, steady is everything.
I’m not going to pretend the last few years have been easy.
They haven’t.
There have been moments where things felt heavy. Complicated. A little unfair, if I’m being honest.
But through all of it… I’ve never had to question him.
I don’t worry about him leaving.
I don’t worry about him waking up one day and deciding, “you know what, this is a lot.”
Because… I am a lot.
We’ve covered this.
There’s a reason it’s called A Bri Too Much and not A Bri Just Enough.
Extra pounds? Still here.
Sickness? Still here.
Mood swings that could qualify as a weather system? Also still here.
And him?
Still here.
He didn’t try to fix me.
He didn’t try to tone me down.
He didn’t suggest maybe I could be… less.
Rude, honestly. The audacity to accept me as-is.
He just stayed.
Adapted.
Learned the patterns.
Probably has internal notes like, “give it 20 minutes, she’ll be fine.”
So no… we’re not out celebrating tonight.
I’m tired. My body is tired. My patience is occasionally tired.
But my marriage?
That part isn’t tired.
We’re still here.
And that feels like more than enough.
– Bri (too much, slightly dramatic, still adored) 💅