Thank you.

It's comments like these that help me to realize that starting this blog and making it "public" (even though I write anonymously) was the right decision. I'm so touched by the outpouring of support and "Yeah, I get you, I feel the same way," comments.  It literally brings tears to my eyes.  It shows me that I'm not alone, there are others out there that get me, and that there are many, many avenues for growth in this journey. This one comment in response to this post really touched me deeply.  Thank you April.  I don't know you personally, but your words helped me more than you could know:

"I agree with Holly. But I also have a few points to mention.

First of all, the wounds you have received in the past have convinced you, beyond all reason, that you are somehow defective to the point that no one can love or accept the real you. The love shown to you by your husband and children flies in the face of this belief, so you push them away, hoping in time that they will reject you and prove your theory right. A part of you desperately wants to be right because it will justify you being a victim for as long as possible. As a victim, the responsibility for how you feel and act is put upon others and removes your obligation to undergo the painful process of change. (The rational part of you, however, wants to change and become healthy again.)

Secondly, by pushing away those who love you, you are perpetuating the same cycle of wounding that started with your parents. You desperately wanted to be loved and accepted by them, but your efforts to please them always fell short. Now your husband is in the same boat: no matter what he does to show that he loves you, it is never good enough to win your affections. This may be an unconscious effort to mold him into someone who can empathize with you. Or maybe it's just an outlet for the anger and pain you wish you could inflict upon your parents.

Thirdly, that overwhelming feeling of being unloved is not your gut or instinct: it's called fear. How do I know? Because you described it as being irrational. Fear is almost always irrational. I have fear, too. I fear nearly every day my husband goes to work that I'm going to receive a phone call saying he's been in a fatal accident. Sometimes I start to cry when I let this scenario play out in my head. I also fear that my son will stop breathing in his sleep. If he hasn't stirred by 8 a.m., I start to panic. Yet there is no reason for me to believe that either of these terrible things will happen. I manage these fears by looking at the facts: (1) my husband is smart enough to avoid accidents and minimize injury, and (2) my son is strong and healthy. Here is a fact for you to consider: out of 3.5 billion women, your husband chose you to share his life, share his name, share his bed, and bear his children. By marrying you, he made a public statement that he prefers you above all other women on this planet. That means you cannot be unlovable or unloved. You cannot be so damaged or defective as to be unacceptable. Something inside of you (a great many things, I'm sure) is good enough to satisfy another.

Forgive me if I have touched a nerve. I want more than anything to encourage you. The words you write on this blog convey an inner strength that many people do not possess. Self-help books are great, but sometimes the answers we seek lie within ourselves."