I had a thought the other day, a thought about my husband. And today it's the perfect day to write about it, because today is our anniversary. Today, eight years ago, we went on our first date.
I met my husband a few months after I turned 21. Since then I have loved him and he has loved me back. In other words, I have been loved by the person I love for most of my adult life. The epiphany I had the other day was about the consequences of this reality.
For as long as I can remember, I've always been fairly self-confident. When I was younger the self-confidence came from accomplishments and achievements. Today, I think it comes from being comfortable in my own skin and from being happy in life. This, more quiet but potent, confidence has grown constantly over the past years. If I should be really cliché about it, it has grown out of love.
I am constantly, every day, reminded by my husband, that I'm the greatest person alive. Not that he verbalize it everyday, but that's how he makes me feel just by looking at me. And that is regardless of how I feel about my self at any given moment. When someone you love tells you your are beautiful despite the snot running down your nose or who tries everything to make you happy despite your PMS tantrums, it's difficult to feel anything but invincible.
When you get to mirror yourself in the eyes of someone who loves you, the reflection can only build you up and make you stronger.