I track it privately. I know the exact figure. But I've stopped saying it aloud, even to myself, because hearing it makes it heavier somehow.
Here's the strange part: my husband has never once brought it up unprompted. Not a comment, not a look, nothing. He's completely kind about it.
And weirdly, that kindness makes me more anxious, not less. If he'd said something careless, at least I'd have something to push against, someone to be angry at. Instead there's just this gentle silence I keep filling with my own worst thoughts. He's the safest place I have, and I'm still hiding a number from him like it's a crime.
I'm working on it. Quietly. That's all I've got for now.