There are moments when you feel like you’re lost at sea and can’t see land. The sea was like the storm in my head that never stopped: the voices that wouldn’t stop and the terror that made me feel like I was going crazy. I’ve shared my tale before: the times I broke down, the times I was in the hospital, and the nights I believed I’d never get better. But I don’t generally talk about the person who was always there for me. The man who saved me from going under when the storm hit.
My spouse, David, is that person.
Meeting Love in the Middle of a Mess
People often associate big gestures with love stories: roses, candlelit dinners, and happy endings that are neatly tied up. That’s not how my tale with David goes. It’s more difficult and messy, but it’s also far more real.
I didn’t meet him when he was at his best. I wasn’t well-groomed or put together. I wasn’t the kind of person you’d want to bring home to meet your family. I was weak and unsteady, and I often didn’t know if I could make it through another day without breaking. But David didn’t turn away. He noticed the parts of me I wanted to hide, like my anxiety, perplexity, and tiredness, yet still chose to love me.
That decision, which seems so basic, was the start of my healing.
What an Anchor Actually Is
People say that anchors keep ships motionless, but that’s not quite right. An anchor won’t stop the storm. It doesn’t make the waves go away. It prevents the ship from going too far off course. David did it for me. He couldn’t make the voices in my head go away. He couldn’t get rid of the anxiousness or the sadness. But he made sure I didn’t go too far away so that I couldn’t go back.
He was the steady voice that told me I wasn’t alone. The hand that held mine when I thought the world was falling apart. The calm presence in the room when I couldn’t talk and was crying. He didn’t have to fix me. He absolutely had to stay, and he did.
The Daily Miracles of Having Friends
I see now that the most healing times weren’t the most exciting. They were normal and practically invisible to everyone else. He would offer me tea without asking, as if he knew my body needed something warm to help me feel more grounded. Or how he never grumbled when I woke him up in the middle of the night because I was scared or had nightmares. Or how he continued coming back, day after day, year after year, without once making me feel like I was a burden.
That kind of love is like medicine for the soul. You can’t get it in a pill bottle or a therapy plan. It takes patience, consistency, and a willingness to stand in the storm alongside someone else.
Changing the Definition of Strength
I used to think that being assertive meant doing everything on my own. I felt that asking for help was a sign of weakness and that depending on someone else was a sign of failure. But David changed how I felt about strength. He taught me that real strength isn’t about avoiding asking for help; it’s about letting someone hold you when you can’t stand on your own.
He never made me feel bad for needing him. He never made my problems worse. Instead, he made me think that needing someone may be a good thing. That love isn’t lessened by terrible times; they test it.
Love as a Spiritual Medicine
I call David my anchor and my spiritual medicine for a reason. His love reminded me that God doesn’t always come from the sky when the voices in my head grew too loud, when I doubted God, or when I felt like I was coming apart. Sometimes it comes from someone who looks at you steadily and says without words, “You are worth staying for.”
His love was proof to me that God was still with me. That I was being taken care of even in the storm. That faith can be personified in an individual who is unwilling to relinquish it.
The Quiet Bravery of Staying
We don’t honor this kind of bravery enough. You don’t see this kind of thing in movies or books. There are no medals or praise for it. But enduring, day after day, through the dirty, unglamorous realities of mental illness is brave.
David didn’t want things to be easy. He didn’t get the version of me that had everything figured out. He got the one who was untidy, broken, and thought she was too much to manage at times. He didn’t run away, though. He stood still and stated, “I’m not going anywhere.”
That type of love should be yelled from the rooftops.
What I Learned from Being Anchored
Being attached taught me things I couldn’t have learned any other way. I realized that being vulnerable is not anything to be ashamed of. I knew that depending on someone else doesn’t make you less entire; it makes you more human. And I knew that real love doesn’t require you to be flawless initially. It comes to you where you are.
I still can’t believe that David never asked me to change so that he could love me. He didn’t wait for the voices to stop before he made a promise to me. He didn’t tell me to mask my anxiety. He just took me as I was, storm and all. And somehow, that acceptance gave me the strength to keep battling, recovering, and believing in myself.
For Anyone Who Needs a Place to Stand
If you feel like you’re drowning in your own storm, I hope you find your anchor. It may be a partner like David. A friend may show up while no one else does. It could be a family member who won’t let you go. It doesn’t matter who it is; you don’t have to go through the storm alone.
Please don’t give up hope if you haven’t discovered that person yet. There are many different kinds of anchors, and they may appear when you least expect them. In the meantime, be kind to yourself. You don’t have to be strong to ask for help. You are human, and humans were never designed to go through storms alone.
Final Thoughts
The voices in my head still come and go. The storms haven’t just gone away. But the difference now is that I know where I’m going. I have a point of reference. When I forget how to believe in myself, I have someone who does.
David may never preach from a pulpit or proclaim himself a healer, but his love has been the best spiritual medication for me. And in a culture that frequently teaches us love is weak, conditional, or short-lived, I want to say this out loud: love can be the strongest anchor of all.