Why this book exists
A focused place to understand what is happening
Bronwen had learned to read the mornings the way a sailor reads the sky. She would wake before Gethin and lie still, listening, and from the quality of his breathing and the weight of his silence she could tell, before he said a word, what kind of day it was going to be, and whether the man she had married would be anywhere in the house that day or whether there would only be the shape of him, present and absent at once. Gethin had been depressed for over a year, a real depression, the kind that is an illness and not a mood, and it had taken him from her by degrees so gradual that she could not name the day he had gone. She loved him. That had never been in question. What was in question, in the long grey afternoons, was whether she could keep doing.
The writing is designed to reduce shame, bring the underlying pattern into view and give you practical ways to respond without pretending that every life follows the same formula.
