Really sad and I don't feel like there's anyone I can talk to about it. So I'll write about it here and share it with anyone in the world who wants to read this stuff, whilst still not getting any kind of relief. Irony.

He thinks that I am too easily shaken up, upset, reactive. He wants me to be stronger, to be happy in my own right, to be strong enough that even if things fell apart between us, I'd be OK. He does not want to feel as if he is of critical importance in my life.

I can see what he means. But it's like asking a person who's recently spent two years in the ICU fighting for their life, following getting hit by a train, to be OK with prancing along on railroad tracks, because if I get hit again, I'll live through it, again. Trains make me nervous now, not merely nervous- paralyzed with terror. Prancing on railroad tracks isn't fun anymore. I would like to walk somewhere safer, with him.

In addition to all this, it is becoming apparent to me that I simply am not the same person I used to be. I try, I go through all the motions of doing all the stuff I used to like so well, and I enjoy it, somewhat. But it's like my psyche has suffered a massive heart attack, leaving me with big areas of scar tissue. Sometimes I don't know who I am anymore, and it's more than a little unnerving. I know that I used to have friends. I used to do all kinds of stuff. But the person my friends were friends with, isn't here anymore. There's this other person that I am now, and this one is fragile, tires out, doesn't get as much done, requires a lot of TLC and patience, and has forgotten all kinds of stuff, even before the concussion. There are chunks of my life, like at least a year and a half, that are pretty much blanked out and erased, and there are other pieces that if I remember them, feel surreal, as if they happened to a completely different person who happened to live in this same body. I don't know how to talk about these things with people. I don't know how to explain it.

So yeah, I am afraid. I cannot afford to get broken again. I already know how not okay things can be. Whatever parts of me are left, my children need for them to be there.

But the fear ruins things. It makes life less fun. And it's not his fault that I'm like this.