Thanks for the Flowers

(What is happening?! Every time I try to talk to him about how much that poke hurt, he figures out ways to redirect the conversation. He has all of these reasons (they feel like excuses though) the poke happened, and he says I’m making a big deal out of nothing. If that’s true, why do I feel something is still wrong…off…not right? Maybe I am being dramatic, but I’m so confused! The poke is secondary now, I care more about the fact I can’t TALK ABOUT THE POKE. I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE POKE! Not only the poke, but allllll of the pokes. But how? I can see now that I’ve been ignorant to them. There have been hundreds, thousands! of pokes that I didn’t even know were happening. It’s like we’re in a hospital room and needles have been in waiting. In my confusion, I looked. I observed. I tried over and over to understand myself so I could avoid these pokes. I can see now that they are happening every day. I really don’t think he means to hurt me, but he is. He’s held on to these needles for a long time. I’m willing to help him see them. If he can’t acknowledge them, what will happen?)

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Flowers.

Thanks and no thanks. If he can’t talk to me about these pokes, fuck the flowers! No more flowers. I don’t even understand why he gives me the flowers anymore.

Flowers.

Bla. Okay breathe. Talk to him. But he won’t listen! How to talk to him? Every time I try, he says I’m not being thoughtful or that I’m angry. How to not be angry?! This is so frustrating. Breathe. You got this.

Flowers.

Don’t care. Okay, take action, girl.

Poke.

Ouch! Fuck! Had enough. I’m going to try one more time. If he doesn’t hear me, something will have to change. I’m not saying it’s over, but something has to change. It will be better for both of us. He can’t possibly be happy when he treats me this way, acts this way. It seems to be coming from a place of anger, sadness, stress, trauma? I’m not sure, but I do know it’s not fair to me, and no one should be treated this way. I’m creative. I can think of a creative solution, right?! Yes, I’m scared. Yes, he’ll probably remind me I’ll be lonely or that it’s my fault, but screw it. I can handle lonely. At least I won’t feel crazy and in my head. I have sat alone and cried alone enough times to know it’s not me, it’s him. Sure, I play the game, I do the toxic dance with him sometimes, but I want to talk about it, I want to stop it, does he? Why doesn’t he seem to want to stop the toxicity? Why do we put up with living like this?

Flowers.

Meh. We talked forever, nothing really changed. I need space for a while because my head hurts with him around, I’m leaving for as long as it takes. I want to be around him, but not this toxicity.

Flowers.

Well, thanks, I guess. The space is helping. Talking is helping, when it doesn’t feel like the same toxic pattern. But he is talking differently now. Like, he’s not just repeating what I say but actually seems to be understanding, understanding!, what I’m saying. And he’s validating me, and not just validating, he’s actually listening and doing what he says. His words mean nothing to me at this point, but his actions do. He seems to be acting differently. He’s open. There’s an opening! Is it perfect? No. But there’s an opening. An effort.

Flowers.

Hm. Maybe. This space is really helping. I’m still not sure if he gets what I’m saying about these pokes, but there’s a different energy when we engage. He’s less “but you…” and more “hmm, yeah, okay, maybe…”. An openness? A humbleness? I’m not sure, and I refuse to rush into things until I’m sure.

Flowers.

Okay okay. This feels… healthy? Safe? I don’t know, I’m just not in my head.

Flowers.

Hm. These flowers actually feel like an actual gift. Wow.

Flowers.

Don’t trust it.

Flowers.

Trust.

Flowers.

Don’t trust it.

Flowers.

Trust.

Poke.

Ouch! Well, that was a surprise, and hasn’t happened in a while. But he talked about it! He talked about it! He sees. He gets it.

Flowers.

Thank you. I forgive you.

Flowers.

Thank you. I’m freer with you.

Flowers.

Love.