Three things I challenge you to take on.

Dear Wifey Reader,

I see you. Yes, you. The one who stays up at night staring at the ceiling, feeling like the weight of the world has settled squarely on her shoulders. I know that feeling—the one where you ask yourself, “What am I even doing here?” I’ve been there. I’ve walked that road, and let me tell you: it is a lonely, dark, and suffocating place.

But here’s the thing: you don’t have to stay there.

There was a time when I thought I’d reached my breaking point. It wasn’t the big things; it was the endless cycle of small hurts. The arguments that felt like déjà vu. The verbal jabs that cut deep. The loneliness of being in the same room with someone who was supposed to love me, yet feeling like a stranger. And oh, the weight of pretending everything was fine when I was crumbling inside. (Side note: Isn’t it funny how we can be Oscar-worthy actresses when it comes to convincing the world we’re “just fine”?)

One day, after another exhausting argument, I left. I didn’t have a plan—I just needed to breathe. I found myself talking to a complete stranger, spilling my heart in ways I didn’t even know I could. It was as if the dam broke, and all the pain I’d been bottling up came pouring out. And you know what? That moment changed something in me. Also, shoutout to that stranger who probably thought, Why did I just ask this woman how she’s doing? lol

Sister, I realized I couldn’t keep living like that. So I did three things that saved my life: I prayed like never before, I learned to take care of myself, and I sought therapy. Let me tell you about each.

First, **prayer**. I know it sounds simple, but it wasn’t just a quick “God, help me.” It was raw, honest, tear-soaked prayers where I poured out every hurt, every doubt, every fear. I stopped pretending with God. I told Him exactly how I felt, even when my words were messy or angry. And in those moments, I felt Him meet me where I was. Not with lightning bolts or instant solutions, but with a quiet reassurance: “You are not alone.” Honestly, sometimes I wondered if God was sitting there like, "Wow, she really let me have it today," but I think He loved me for being real.

Second, I began to **take care of myself**. This was the hardest part because, as wives, we’re often taught to put everyone else first. But how can you pour from an empty cup? I started doing small things that brought me joy—taking a walk, reading a book, listening to music that made me feel alive. I even started dancing in my kitchen again, which, by the way, is highly therapeutic (just don’t trip over the dog like I did). I learned to say “no” to things that drained me and “yes” to things that nourished my soul.

And lastly, I went to **therapy**. I know—that’s a loaded word for some of us. But let me tell you: having someone to talk to, someone who wasn’t part of my everyday life, was a game-changer. My therapist didn’t have all the answers, but she gave me tools to understand myself, my emotions, and my patterns. She helped me see that asking for help isn’t weakness; it’s wisdom. Plus, it was kind of nice to have someone whose job was to listen to me rant without saying, “Well, you should have…” (You know those people!)

Sister, if you’re reading this and feeling that familiar heaviness, I want you to hear me loud and clear: *You are not alone.* You don’t have to carry this by yourself. It’s okay to ask for help. Whether it’s a trusted friend, a counselor, a pastor, or even a stranger on a hotline—reach out. Don’t let pride or fear hold you back. You are worth fighting for.

You see, the enemy wants you to believe the lie that you’re stuck, that nothing will ever change, that no one cares. But the truth is, you have a God who loves you fiercely and people who would gladly walk alongside you if only they knew you needed them. Also, I have to say, sometimes the enemy really overestimates how much I can take—it’s like, "Dude, pick on someone else for once!"

Today, I can look back on those dark days and see how far I’ve come. My marriage isn’t perfect, but I’ve learned to set boundaries and communicate in ways that heal rather than hurt. Most importantly, I’ve learned to value myself as God does. And that’s what I want for you too.

So here’s my challenge to you: Take one small step today. Maybe it’s whispering a prayer. Maybe it’s calling a therapist. Maybe it’s simply admitting to someone you trust that you’re not okay. Whatever it is, just take that step. You’re worth it.

I’m rooting for you, praying for you, and cheering you on. You are stronger than you think, and this story of pain can become a testimony of triumph. One day, you’ll look back and say, “I made it.” And I’ll be here to celebrate with you (probably with cake—because every victory deserves cake).

With all my love and hope,

A Sister Who’s Been There

Meena