I realized I should have parted ways with my husband at least a decade earlier. This Christmas, while feeling unwell, an old memory resurfaced.

“Colleen,” my sister urged, “You’ve been unwell for some time; it’s time to see a doctor.”

“I will,” I responded.

I hung up.

On Christmas Eve, everyone was checking in on me.

“Wait,” my other sister interjected. “You’re still not feeling well? You need to see someone today.”

“I will,” I assured her.

Before long, my third sister called.

“You really need to see a doctor,” she insisted. “This is serious.”

“I will,” I promised again.

Three sisters, three calls.

I had committed to visiting the doctor, but with Christmas Eve in full swing and dinner to prepare, I kept putting it off. A few hours later, a knock on the door revealed two of my sisters.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Get in the car,” they replied. “We’re taking you to urgent care. You’ve been sick for nearly three weeks; this can’t wait.”

My sisters know me well.

They understood I wouldn’t prioritize my health until after the holidays, despite my assurances. My husband was no help in this regard.

Upon seeing the doctor, I was chastised.

“What were you thinking?” he queried. “Why did you wait so long? You’re having breathing difficulties.”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just kept pushing through and didn’t realize how serious it had become.”

Returning home, I found my husband engrossed in his computer.

He was oblivious to my struggles.

As I attempted to focus on cooking, one thought lingered:

“How is it possible that three people outside my home noticed my illness, yet the man living with me hasn’t?”

He showed no concern for me.

This lack of awareness highlighted a troubling pattern in our relationship. My sisters understood my needs; my husband did not.

This was a pivotal moment for me.

It became clear that he lived in his own world, resistant to any requests. I had tried to justify his neglect over the years, but this incident served as a clear test of our bond.

Three family members care about me, yet the man I married remains indifferent.

I should have walked away then.

I had made excuses for his behavior before, such as when I drove myself home after surgery or when he failed to be present after a car accident.

He had promised to pick up my uncle for Christmas Eve but refused. As my condition worsened, the doctor’s words echoed in my mind, making me realize just how ill I truly was.

This memory is painful.

I loved my uncle deeply; he was a father figure in my life after my dad left when I was just five. He had always been there for me, singing and nurturing my spirit.

Everyone deserves an uncle like mine.

That night, my sister stepped in and picked up our uncle. I honestly didn’t expect my family to forgive my husband for his negligence.

Despite being raised with Catholic values, he felt no remorse for leaving a priest alone on such a significant night.

That visit to urgent care marked the beginning of a new health issue for me, as I began to develop bronchitis or asthma with every cold.

Over the years, I learned to manage it.

Now, if I’m still struggling after ten days, I make an appointment. I thought I had it under control.

Until this week.

I fell ill with a severe flu. I was determined to see a doctor before the week was out, but on the third day, I felt the onset of breathing issues.

That’s when I knew I was in trouble.

I couldn’t catch my breath, felt lightheaded, and feared I might faint.

Many believe I’ve been alone since my divorce, but the truth is, I was often alone in my marriage too.

I took care of myself.

No one was there to look after me.

Asking for help has never come easily to me, partly due to being raised by a single mom and partly because my husband was not reliable. Last night, however, I felt desperate.

“I’m in trouble. I need help,” I admitted.

Even I was taken aback by my own words.

It was a frightening experience.

My friend arrived just ten minutes later, and I felt relief wash over me as I finally managed to breathe again. My inhaler had finally kicked in.

I’ve often wondered why it feels so daunting to ask for help.

It shouldn’t be.

I don’t regret asking for assistance; I was in distress and required support. I spent too many years not seeking help, despite being in a partnership.

Last night served as a wake-up call for me.

The silver lining? I no longer share my life with someone who wouldn’t notice my struggles.