My husband is proud of me but not in the way others might think. Of course he brags to people about my blog and Instagram accounts but he is proud of me. He is proud of how strong I am when I need to be, how weak I can be and the ability to show when I’m vulnerable. He is proud after years of hiding my emotions I tell him now when I’m overwhelmed when my anxiety is so bad I can’t actually communicate properly. He is proud of me because I communicate with him and even the tiniest detail can make a huge difference. He is proud of me for being open about my illness and sharing even the hardest of stories. He is proud to see the person I’m becoming and being a part of this amazing person he’s always known was in there but waited to come out. He understands when I don’t want to eat or shower but encourages me anyway with simple things that will make me happy about it. When I hear him say he is proud of me I get tears in my eyes because I remember the old days. He is proud of me and while he can’t combat things like my wife ran a half marathon with my wife took a shower for the first time in days. I know he is proud of me.