When do I come first?

It wouldn't be possible for me to guess how many times I have asked that question of my husband over the last twelve months. Hundreds? Thousands? Millions? Your guess would be as good as mine. The question comes from the utter heartbreak that I would feel each and everytime that mental illness took control of our lives. More often than I care to remember, I would be left feeling like my husband's illness and needs were far greater than my own. I would scream this as I begged for things to change. As I pleaded with God for help. As I fought to stay afloat. Looking back, the despair that I felt is overwelming. It boils over to the surface and washes down me. Burning me. But also, and even more troubling, defeating me. This is the story of how we overcame.