This morning after Walkies, I got in the shower. The Boyfriend had expressed joining me. At one point, he came in to the bathroom like he was about to do so, then left. As time went on and I did my thing, he didn’t come back. When I was finishing up, I called out and asked if he was okay. He answered, saying he was, and then mumbling something I wasn’t able to make out except “distracted.” I asked if he was going to get in, he said he was, but… at that point, my mood had dropped like a rock in the ocean and I started to cry a little. Mind you, hormones because Aunt Flo’s visit looms near… doesn’t excuse that I was hurt by the missed connection.

You see… I enjoy spending time with The Boyfriend, literally any kind of quality time is like gold. It’s monumentally important to me. It’s been ages and far between that we’ve shared shower time and I was really looking forward to getting that connection once again. Soooo… yeah, the disappointment hit me like napalm, infecting everything.

When he did get in, he could tell that I was upset. He held me, apologized, stroked my hair (it’s super short now)… but it didn’t make me feel much better, so I decided to get out.

When I got to my room, I was feeling the anger and frustration, so I did a Wall Shove – a technique taught to me by my IFS/EMDR therapist to trick my body into thinking I’m physically fighting, thus releasing that cPTSD triggered emotion. The land mine exploded and I cried some more, but after that I felt somewhat better.

Got dressed, went downstairs to make coffee, sat on the chair in the kitchen and doom scrolled some cat videos. The Boyfriend finished, dressed, came downstairs, and walked straight to me… hugging me and apologizing more that he’d spaced out and upset me. I asked if I could be petty, he approved, and I said, “It’s fine. I’m stupid for getting upset over it.” He chuckled and rubbed my hair some more. “Yay for gaslighting myself!” I said and cried.

Seriously, though… he handled that SO well that it did make me feel better. I even made him a cup of coffee (he doesn’t usually drink it, but wanted some anyway). Then we sat on the couch and talked, I thanked him for not getting angry with me (his confused face, though, haha), he said “You’re welcome,” we talked some more and giggled a bit, and now here I am… feeling better and writing my blog.

I truly hate that the things I went through in my life have made me so sensitive to such things, but I’m also very grateful that I’m like this… and not the alternative: bitter, angry, and lashing out all the time. I learned and vowed at a very young age to not be like my father. Has that been good for me? In some ways, yes. In other ways, not so much. But I’m learning and growing, doing all the therapies I can to reconcile the damage caused by shitty people in my past.

And today… I feel a tiny smidgen of hope (ugh, that word again) for the future and my relationship with The Boyfriend. He really is a good man deep down. I do love him so very much. Sometimes it’s difficult to see the good things, when I’m mired in so much pain, but… I’ll take moments like this and cherish them while I can.