What My Veteran Husband Taught Me

Most of you have heard the stories of my early days of dating my husband. The story usually covers my concerns about telling him about having severe psoriasis and how I was covered from head to toe when I met him. I had so many bad first dates that I decided to tell him on that first date to get it out of the way. I was so over the not wanting to be touched me and avoiding the contagious question, that I just didn’t care anymore.

We've been together for almost 25 years and we are still going strong. My husband served our country as a marine and I have learned some valuable lessons from him over the years.

Coping with feelings of isolation

I know that I have had some pretty rough days with this disease. People not wanting to be near me or trouble making friends. Psoriasis has made me feel isolated and alone. Many days I focused on my psoriasis and in some crazy way, let it serve as a big distraction. I could be at a party or any event and feel like I was the only person there. No one ever noticed me unless I was in their way and I always felt alone and lost.

I asked him once how he dealt with isolation when he was in the field? He told me that he just took it one day at a time. He never focused on the difficulties that were going on, but he focused more on what he had to do.

My takeaway from this is always to stay focused on what's at hand. Isolation can be such a real experience, but we don’t have to let it consume us. We need to focus on what we need to do and less on what other people think of us. I would have been better off if I had this attitude forty years ago.

Learning to express my emotions

My husband has shown me what it means to be a fighter. It is in his nature. There have been so many times in life where I have tried to express my feelings to doctors and people, but just felt ignored. I felt dead inside. Not only did my husband teach me to be a fighter but he also taught me to be emotional and to give in to my feelings.

I always wondered if he truly understood that my psoriasis would never go away. That my disease was non-curable. I remember rehearsing in my mind how would I tell him. My husband taught me that it's okay to have hesitations with emotions of uncertainty and to be sensitive about how a person may react or respond. Especially before you share something revealing.

Overcoming challenges together as husband and wife

I asked him if he knew or had seen psoriasis before me. He said no and that he had never heard of the condition. He quickly follows up and confirmed that he would never judge a person by something visible on their body. Through his service, he has learned to accept people that have differences.

He once told me that he wasn’t prepared for his return home. He wasn't prepared that every day when he woke up it would feel like waking up in a nightmare. He shared that he faced failures as well as successes in this walk.

These challenges connected us. He painfully understood how I was feeling and assured me that we would face these challenges together. I know that on this 55+ year journey together, my husband and I have definitely faced some challenges. I have been rejected because of my psoriasis and have had opportunities lost because of my skin.

The important lessons my husband has taught me

My Marine husband has taught me that I am stronger than I know. He has shared that there have been plenty of times where he felt like he couldn’t make it, but he said to himself, "I am going to be okay because I can handle anything." He also taught me that even on days he knew he would fall, he trusted in himself enough to know he would be able to pick himself up again.

However, my favorite lesson from my husband is love never rejects and we are not responsible for what others say or do. This taught me to be okay with my skin. I have a husband who was proud to serve his country in a time of adversity. He has taught me more lessons than friends, family, and doctors.

He is my hero and I'm proud of his service to our country and grateful for his inspiring lessons.