Everyone has that one thing in their marriage that is difficult for them. That one thing that they fight over more than anything else or that stresses them out to no end. Right? (Please say nod and say yes, I’m just going to assume that you are nodding in solidarity.)

I’m no different. I’m DREADFUL with money. I just am. I don’t always think things through and then I try and go back and fix them later, often creating a much worse mess and situation than if I had just not tried to do it all myself the first time. Sound familiar? (Again with the nodding please…)

I’m trying to be better about it. I’m trying to be grown up and make better decisions. But it’s a…process. Earlier this year, I made one such bad decision. I made it out of panic and fear and somewhat misguided good intentions and that’s all it was. In the grand scheme of things, it was nothing. So small. Out of respect for the bigger problems in the world, I’ll spare you the details. The mistake wasn’t even the problem.

The problem was the months of deception that I went through to try and cover it up. Mountains of guilt. Sleepless nights. KNOWING that I needed to come clean and just get it out. Purge. Whatever you want to call it. But I. Was. Terrified. Of what? I have no idea. We can all just go ahead and agree that my husband is glorious, right? That he is pretty much the kindest and most forgiving person that ever lived. He is good and patient and absolutely adorable, right?

Ok, good. In spite of all that though, I was so afraid he would… what? Be mad? Judge me? Leave me? I have no idea. It was like this,,,brownish area with points. I knew that I WANTED to tell him. And that I wanted to just put it all out there and be honest and not terrified of what was going to be in the mailbox. I wanted to NOT hold my breath every time I walked in the door or he walked in the door because he had found out before I’d sacked up enough to tell him.

And then finally… I did. And he was… well, he was Patrick. He loves me. Inexplicably. Unconditionally. Completely. And I have a renewed commitment to him. Honesty. Disclosure. And for me? It is bravery. It is trust. Things that I guess don’t normally go with honesty but for they always have. After 10 years of marriage, you wouldn’t think that being afraid of what your husband thinks of your character would still be an issue. But for me it is. Or rather… it was. This man deserves everything good I have to give him. And more.

How about you? What do you struggle with?