I saw this article, called If I Can’t Accept You At Your Worst, Maybe You Should Stop Being So Horrible on my Facebook feed today, and I found it to be a very interesting piece.

Now, I don’t normally take much I see at The Huffington Post very seriously, because, frankly, I wind up getting irritated at most of the articles I see there. In fact, I tend to hesitate when someone posts a link to an article on my FB feed, and I have to ask myself “Do I really want to get irritated at someone’s opinion today?”

I hesitated today, before clicking on the above link, because I wasn’t sure. And with a title like If I Can’t Accept You At Your Worst, Maybe You Should Stop Being So Horrible I was tempted, but also prepared to hate the opinion in the article.

Today, I was pleasantly surprised.

Mostly because I agree with a lot of what was stated in the article.

The basic rundown is about this: Love is about love. Not about accepting your worst, most horrid, selfish, bitter, angry self. Love is supposed to make us be better people, not be a free pass to be a terrible person, and then say “well, if you can’t accept me at my worst, then you don’t deserve my best.”

As a romance writer, I spend a lot of time watching people and their relationships. And the thing I notice the most–no matter how horrible things get, a good relationship will battle through it. One person may break down, have a bad day, or whatever, but the other person is there for them when they’re about to lose their minds.

My family and I have moved recently, and there have been a lot of little things that have popped up since we moved–like having tree roots in my sewer line, several leaks in various places, and other minor little things.

If I had been by myself, I might have lost my mind. But my husband kept me from turning into a raving, stressed out lunatic. He helped me hold stuff together. And when he’s been on the edge of flipping out over the stress of this huge change, I’ve been there for him, to help him through it.

Maybe my worst is when I’m on the verge of flipping out, and my husband’s like “I got this. You go take some time for yourself.” I don’t have to be the absolute worst, because I have him to keep me from falling into that horrible place.

That’s a relationship.

He doesn’t have to see the absolute worst, because he keeps me from going down there, and together, we work hard to keep each other happy.

Are there days when he irritates me to no end? Sure. Are there days when I make him want to pull out the little bit of hair he has left? Of course. That’s part of being in a relationship.

But regardless of the irritation over the day, we are still partners. Still married. And we still have each other’s back.

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