Dear Mrs. Anonymous,

credit

{Read Mrs. Anonymous's original question

here

.}

Dear Mrs Anonymous,

Last Sunday I made potato soup and Mr. Scabs made bread.  It was one of those freezing days where we were craving some comfort food.

For Christmas I got a new set of knives.  Sharp ones.  Really sharp ones.  I've never owned a good set of knives.  But, I am a Cub Scout Den Mother.  I teach knife safety and know how to whittle.

Despite these credentials, I sliced my hand like it was a russet potato.  I took my eyes off the knife for literally half a second.  I cried and yelped and jumped up and down!  Pressing deeply, I held my filleted flesh to my palm wishing against all wishes that it would just instantly glue back in place.  PLEASE!  I have no greater phobia than sharply sliced body tissue.

I tell this story because I think it relates to where you are.  Every week I hear from women who have the same questions as you.  And every week I hear from women who's story began just as you described.  In fact, that is also how my story began.  It just may be the beginning of every story.

But, it doesn't have to be the beginning of your story.  It can also be the end.

Because you are at the beginning, you and your husband are at the greatest advantage.  You are right, now is not the time to lose you shit.  Or become obsessed with the what if's, maybe's and other stories out there (including mine).  Our story is extreme and it's an intriguing story to tell.  Which may be why you read it for 2 days straight.

I believe you did everything right.  Beautifully, in fact.

And now, you have a gigantic pile of advice to sift through.

I'd like to thank the women and men who reached out in their vulnerability and shared their thoughts.  I will always back you up and respect you because your experiences, feelings and thoughts are real.  Across the screen and into your living rooms and houses you are real people, with real lives and so am I.  You can be safely vulnerable and real here.  Thank you.

After a few silent moments of teeth clenching and deep breathing, I gently released the iron grip on my palm to reveal the fresh wound.  The sharply sliced skin was pressed white.  Then the blood came.  I've seen what happens when a wound goes unchecked.  It's inevitably eaten by bacteria and turns a horrific flow of colors. You may need to amputate to survive.

Such a small thing can literally poison you into an incredibly slow and painful death.  

A dab of Neosporin or a flush of alcohol would save your life.

Now is the time for Neosporin, my dear Mrs. Anonymous.  Communicate with your loving husband.  Attend 12-step.  Tell someone you both trust.  Don't be naive.  Trust your gut.  You aren't overreacting.   Reach out to those who understand.  Set up boundaries and changes to your life style that make sense.  Work together.  Love him.  Love yourself. Believe.  Don't be afraid.  Heal your wounds of trust together.  Life is for making mistakes and making up for those mistakes.

Believe me, I've learned my lesson about really sharp knives.

xoxo,

                               Mr. & Mrs. Scabs