Henderson’s writing will pull at your every heart string. She is raw, emotional, vulnerable. Through it all, she allows herself to be wholly human ... above all else, the story of a marriage that, like any, is filled with both an abundance of love and an abundance of obstacles. Henderson is able to craft the complexity of a relationship filled with understanding and mutual respect, yet at the same time, extreme disconnect.

... incredible ... The descriptions of Aaron’s strange illnesses are vivid and unambiguous (including lesions, rashes and bleeding), and parasites, real or imagined, make many appearances. In many ways, this memoir is a compelling medical mystery, and anyone who is interested in the disputed existence of Morgellons disease will have lots to chew on here ... not a traditional love story, but it is a love story—one as heart-wrenching as it is heart-filling. Reading it will prompt you to give the meaning of 'in sickness and in health' a good, long thought.

A relentlessly visceral memoir ... It’s a raw, unsettling read. There are moments of beautifully precise writing ... But there are also pages and pages that feel so personal, so unfiltered, so full of pustules, sores, vomit, fibers, meltdowns and suicide attempts, that some readers might be less appreciative of her openness than overwhelmed by the gory, upsetting minutia ... The book jumps back and forth in time, which makes the nightmarish but doggedly detailed story difficult to follow ... Readers with chronically ill spouses might find this memoir comforting; those who can’t resist rubbernecking might find it fascinating.

Henderson brings a novelist’s sensibility to this memoir of her 20-year marriage and the chronic illness of her husband Aaron; she weaves their history with measured prose and emotion in alternating strands ... An intimate, absorbing, and painful look at chronic illness in a relationship. Readers in similar situations will likely find it strikes a deep chord, but anyone who has endured difficulties in a long-term relationship will find much to ponder here as well.

... a meticulously detailed, often grueling account of Aaron’s decade-long battle with a bewildering assortment of mental and physical ailments that would test the limits of even the healthiest union and reveals medicine’s frustrating inability to address some intractable conditions ... Anyone who is dubious about the connection between mind and body when it comes to health might be persuaded to question that position after reading this book ... Although Henderson...is an elegant and observant writer, Everything I Have is Yours is often a difficult book to read ... The account of Aaron’s ailments, along with at least one suicide attempt and a psychiatric ward hospitalization, is almost unrelentingly grim, and even the occasional bright moments are quickly eclipsed by a fresh onslaught of problems ... One can only wish them well and hope that if something that might be called a cure isn’t available to Aaron, they can find a status that feels like a true safe harbor from all the storms they’ve endured.

It is impossible to know or judge a marriage you are not part of ... Eleanor Henderson does her best to remedy that conundrum. And yet, as detailed and splayed out as her 20-plus years of marriage are in this memoir, this remains a very difficult relationship to understand ... It’s hard to critique this book without critiquing this marriage. Although the author failed to convince this reader, there must be something about this Aaron, about this relationship, that makes it worth the unceasing struggle. They do seem to have a lot of sex ... It is a continuous loop of illness, despair, hope and illness again. Henderson is smart and insightful, but this story is more litany than narrative. There are many rubbernecking moments. Metallic ooze coming from his navel? Insectlike husks collecting in his mouth? Frothing nipples? In the end, the empathetic pain the reader feels is for her, not for him.

... enthralling and devastating ... can be rough going, and not just because of Aaron's fairly unremitting agony. Also tough on some readers will be his and Henderson's choices outside the medical setting: Could they really not have foreseen that their financial extravagances would eventually compound their suffering? Might they have sheltered their two young children a bit more from their father's self-destructive impulses? Meanwhile, readers who register pangs of conscience for occasionally doubting Aaron's accounts will find themselves in good company: Henderson, too, has been there ... Perhaps particularly unsettling, and certainly humbling, Everything I Have Is Yours may prompt readers to consider whether they would have Henderson's fortitude to stick with her unceasingly difficult marriage. Her memoir has aspects of medical mystery and horror story, but most readers will leave it with the impression of having taken in a love story as blisteringly beautiful as it is truthful.

Henderson’s work is most definitely the story of a marriage, and in its searing specificity it may even get at larger truths about marriage as an experience and institution. But this is no typical case study. Her revelations upend the pretty pictures and easy confessions of Instagram, of popular song ... has the urgency of confession, and it is executed with elegant compression and sardonic wit. Henderson’s prose is full of those feminine throat-clearers and equivocations...But they are deployed, like the hundreds of exclamation points, with purpose and control; I had the sense that these were not tics, but necessary to capturing Eleanor’s inner sound ... Although the history of Aaron’s illness is painstakingly chronicled, the historian herself can seem strangely absent. Her physical reality, her frustrated ambition—they are there, but barely. When, nearly halfway through Everything I HaveIs Yours, Henderson describes working her tension out on a busted pair of Adirondack chairs, I found it hard to square the teller of this controlled tale with a woman capable of such physical aggression and release. True, she does mention rage-reading, rage-driving, the rage-washing of dishes throughout; but Henderson’s precise articulations are mostly in service of the depiction of Aaron’s illness. She must be angry, I thought as I read this litany of disappointments, stressors, misunder-standings, lies. But when this anger was directly referenced, I felt as if I had briefly found myself in some other story ... This is not really a complaint, and it’s certainly not a literary criticism. Henderson’s prose style and material are beautifully matched. That she disappears from the page, even while crafting all its sentences, is fundamental to the parasitic, or satellitic union of addict and codependent. And she shows us how both necessary and inadequate metaphor is in describing some of life’s more confounding experiences ... offers a great confidence.

Henderson is self-aware enough to understand that her behavior has been sometimes codependent, and her prose is all fine turns of phrase with the rawest of nerve endings. The sole fault of the book is that it runs too long, with some repetition, and could have benefited from judicious trimming ... A memoir of interest to anyone coping with a loved one’s struggle with illness and dependency.

... surprisingly bland ... Throughout, Henderson documents in exhaustive detail her ongoing struggle with her 'executively dysfunctional' husband—often comparing him to a child—his 'delusional parasitosis,' substance abuse, and the way doctors dismiss his health issues. Though the book is ostensibly about love, Henderson offers few clues as to why she and her husband have stayed together despite the contempt, anger, and betrayal endemic in their relationship. It’s a gut-wrenching story, but it’s also one without heart.