Feedback. 

My husband said something interesting yesterday during an argument, something I’ve thought of but shove to the back of my gray. 

“Why is it you can spend all of your energy caring about those insane patients of yours and not about me?”

It’s a good question. I come home – wiped out. He’s going through some serious shit right now: trial basis at an internship (which could turn into a guaranteed career), full time school, and part time work. 

But my shit has always taken center stage. My breakdowns – my everything – he has allowed to take first chair to our fucked up orchestra. 

Why not him?  I don’t like to be the center of attention anywhere else; why do I star, direct, and produce this show?  

Cause you know it’s all a show here. I’m just waiting for him to walk out and for my role to be recast. 

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