Just sad

Having trouble telling if I am feeling sorry for myself or if I really have something to be sad over. I have been really contemplating what is going on in my mind and why I am not happy. I have two great children. Ok today did not start off well. We got out the door quickly enough and I totally would have been on time for work but not for the traffic over that bridge. It was my daughter...well, it started with my son. He was very whiny as we walked out the door this am. I know he is sad and hurting. I guess that made it worse. How can I be mad at him for his behavior when he is sad. Then my daughter was ok on the way to school, but then we got there. As I went to leave to go to work, she wrapped herself around my leg, started crying, and yelled, "I want to go to work with you" over and over again. Her teacher had to pry her off my leg. I got back into the car and felt like bawling. It took everything in me not to burst into tears. I hated leaving her and hated it more knowing that we will go through the exact same exercise and emotion tomorrow.
I went to the gym today. I thought it would make me feel better. The gym usually gives me a chance to work through things in my head. I had a hard time because it was not my normal time. That did not help. My mind was not able to wander like it normally does.
Do you ever have doubts about things that you know are not doubtful? I feel that way so often. Rationally I know my husband loves me. I really believe that he does, but somehow I do not trust it. Does that even make sense? Maybe part of me really believes that no one can or should love me. Is that what is going on? I know I have severe trust issues. (Sorry Mom and Dad but a lot of it stems from my youth.) I keep going back to the fact that there is a difference between you are loved and feeling loved. I never really feel loved. I was thinking about my courtship with my hubby. He never had to work hard for me. I made it sooooooo easy. Too easy. I think in some ways I still do. He never has to work very hard for me. He would argue that he works hard to fold the laundry or vacuum the house on Friday afternoons, but that is not what I mean. I am not talking about working hard to try to please me. I mean working hard to keep me. It is never very hard for him. I am always here...waiting.
On a better note or maybe not depending on how I look at it. My daughter gave me a deep and long hug today when I picked her up. I felt even worse in some ways, but in others I was happy to be able to hold her and let her know that I loved her.