Thanks for the Flowers
Oh my goodness they’re beautiful!
Ah. This feels so good. He gets me flowers because he loves me. Nothing more. Nothing less. No need to think about it. Just feelings of love allll over.
Wow! More flowers!
This is awesome. I feel so close to him.
More flowers!
Could things get any better? We must be meant for each other.
Flowers! I just love all of the colors and varieties he chooses just for me.
I could never leave him. He’s so good to me. He’s always thinking about what I like and need.
Flowers.
Ahhh. Love.
Poke.
Damn! What the heck was that? Unexpected pain. It must have been an accident.
Flowers! Gosh, I love this variety!
Ah. Of course it was an accident. He loves me and is always thinking about me.
Flowers again!
Yes. Things are wonderful.
Flowers.
Flowers.
Flowers.
Poke.
Ouch! Okay what. That felt similar to the last poke. Are these accidents or intentional or something else? It was different, but, similar. Weird. Okay, yeah, it hurt, but it's no big deal. I’ll just talk to him about it.
Flowers!
Oh, these flowers are so lovely!… And he’s busy. I don’t want to bother him anymore about the poke. I mean, he didn’t brush me off completely; he was trying to listen. It’s just hard for him. I’m sure he understands me. He’s just not good at expressing himself.
Flowers. Wow! What a bouquet!
See, I knew it. I knew he cared about me. Look at how glamorous these are! He’s so thoughtful.
Flowers.
Ahhh. Back to normal.
Flowers.
I feel safe and secure again.
Flowers.
What was I upset about, anyway?
Flowers.
Ah, we have such a full life together.
Poke.
Damn it! What was that?! I swear. This one hurt. This one bled. This one felt deep. What was he thinking to poke me like that? He must have known that would hurt, no? Why would he do it? He loves me. Why would he make me cry like this? Okay, okay, he’s not making me cry, I’m choosing to cry. I’m the one pouting. I’m the one making a big deal. Of course, okay, I should just ask him what that was about.
Flowers.
Okay cool. Thanks. Beautiful, yes, no doubt. But why couldn’t he admit what he did wasn’t kind? Why couldn’t he at least acknowledge how it made me feel? I get it’s not ‘his fault’, he didn’t know how I would react to the poke, but come on! Why do I feel we’re on different pages? I’m not saying he’s a bad person, I’m just saying that hurt, and I want to understand what happened so it doesn’t keep happening. It had similar vibes to the other pokes… is this a pattern? What is happening?! Why can’t we just figure out how to stop these pokes?! Am I making them up?! Maybe I am. He’s acting like they didn’t happen. Maybe he’s right. He does bring me all these flowers. Why am I worried about a few pokes? I should just calm down and appreciate what I have.
Flowers.
Pretty. But. Still remembering that poke.
Flowers.
Wow! Huge bouquet! But. Well. Did I really make that poke up?
Flowers.
Oh, he’s so sweet. But why couldn’t he give me flowers when I was trying to talk to him about how he hurt me? Was I not good enough for flowers then? Did he not love me then? And why always flowers? I’d rather have him listen to me and give me things I need, instead of him assuming he knows what I need. Do I even like his flowers? Do I even need them anymore? I’m so confused. Why can’t I stop thinking about that poke? He’s forgotten. Why can’t I?
Flowers.
Okay. Cool.
Flowers.
Yup.
Flowers.
Hmmm. Okay get your shit together, woman. The flowers are beautiful. That poke happened a long time ago. He’s busy. He doesn’t know how to talk about feelings like you do. Let it go. You have it pretty good. I mean, look at all of the things he does for you. Look at all of the flowers!
Flowers.
Oh, they’re lovely.
Flowers.
Oooh. I can put them in our new house.
Flowers.
Ah. I’ll put them by on the living room sill.
Poke.
Ow! Fuck. Not again. Okay. Don’t get in your head about it this time. Just talk to him. We all make mistakes. You make mistakes! He reminded you of that last time, but it’s true. No one is perfect. So pokes happen. Okay. Just talk to him.
Flowers.
Who cares.
Flowers.
Yup. Seen these before.
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 of 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, and they’re not my fault. I really don’t think he means to hurt me, but he is. He’s held on to these needles for a long time. Before he even knew me. I’m willing to help him see them. But if he can’t acknowledge them, what will happen?
Choose your own adventure:
—————————-
Now, a little bonus! Here’s the beginning of the story again, but instead of ‘he’ giving the pokes, ‘she’ is giving the pokes. How does this read? What comes up for you as you explore the story this way?
—————————
Oh my goodness they’re beautiful!
Ah. This feels so good. She gets me flowers because she loves me. Nothing more. Nothing less. No need to think about it. Just feelings of love allll over.
Wow! More flowers!
This is awesome. I feel so close to her.
More flowers!
Could things get any better? We must be meant for each other.
Flowers! I just love all of the colors and varieties she chooses just for me.
I could never leave her. She’s so good to me. She’s always thinking about what I like and need.
Flowers.
Ahhh. Love.
Poke.
Damn! What the heck was that? Unexpected pain. It must have been an accident.
Flowers! Gosh, I love this variety!
Ah. Of course it was an accident. She loves me and is always thinking about me.
Flowers again!
Yes. Things are wonderful.
Flowers.
Flowers.
Flowers.
Poke.
Ouch! Okay what. That felt similar to the last poke. Are these accidents or intentional or something else? It was different, but, similar. Weird. Okay, yeah, it hurt, but it's no big deal. I’ll just talk to her about it.
Flowers!
Oh, these flowers are so lovely!… And she’s busy. I don’t want to bother her anymore about the poke. I mean, she didn’t brush me off completely; she was trying to listen. It’s just hard for her. I’m sure she understands me. She’s just not good at expressing herself.
Flowers. Wow! What a bouquet!
See, I knew it. I knew she cared about me. Look at how glamorous these are! She’s so thoughtful.
Flowers.
Ahhh. Back to normal.
Flowers.
I feel safe and secure again.
Flowers.
What was I upset about, anyway?
Flowers.
Ah, we have such a full life together.
Poke.
Damn it! What was that?! I swear. This one hurt. This one bled. This one felt deep. What was she thinking to poke me like that? She must have known that would hurt, no? Why would she do it? She loves me. Why would she make me cry like this? Okay, okay, she’s not making me cry, I’m choosing to cry. I’m the one pouting. I’m the one making a big deal. Of course, okay, I should just ask her what that was about.
Flowers.
Okay cool. Thanks. Beautiful, yes, no doubt. But why couldn’t she admit that what she did wasn’t kind? Why couldn’t she at least acknowledge how it made me feel? I get it’s not ‘his fault’, she didn’t know how I would react to the poke, but come on! Why do I feel we’re on different pages? I’m not saying she’s a bad person, I’m just saying that hurt, and I want to understand what happened so it doesn’t keep happening. It had similar vibes to the other pokes… is this a pattern? What is happening?! Why can’t we just figure out how to stop these pokes?! Am I making them up?! Maybe I am. She’s acting like they didn’t happen. Maybe she’s right. She does bring me all these flowers. Why am I worried about a few pokes? I should just calm down and appreciate what I have.
Flowers.
Pretty. But. Still remembering that poke.
Flowers.
Wow! Huge bouquet! But. Well. Did I really make that poke up?
Flowers.
Oh, she’s so sweet. But why couldn’t she give me flowers when I was trying to talk to her about how she hurt me? Was I not good enough for flowers then? Did she not love me then? And why always flowers? I’d rather have her listen to me and give me things I need, instead of her assuming she knows what I need. Do I even like her flowers? Do I even need them anymore? I’m so confused. Why can’t I stop thinking about that poke? She’s forgotten. Why can’t I?
Flowers.
Okay. Cool.
Flowers.
Yup.
Flowers.
Hmmm. Okay get your shit together, woman. The flowers are beautiful. That poke happened a long time ago. She’s busy. He doesn’t know how to talk about feelings like you do. Let it go. You have it pretty good. I mean, look at all of the things she does for you. Look at all of the flowers!
Flowers.
Oh, they’re lovely.
Flowers.
Oooh. I can put them in our new house.
Flowers.
Ah. I’ll put them on the living room sill.
Poke.
Ow! Fuck. Not again. Okay. Don’t get in your head about it this time. Just talk to her. We all make mistakes. You make mistakes! She reminded you of that last time, but it’s true. No one is perfect. So pokes happen. Okay. Just talk to her.
Flowers.
Who cares.
Flowers.
Yup. Seen these before.
Flowers.
What is happening?! Every time I try to talk to her about how much that poke hurt, she figures out ways to redirect the conversation. She has all of these reasons (they feel like excuses though) the poke happened, and she 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 of 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, and they’re not my fault. I really don’t think she means to hurt me, but she is. She’s held on to these needles for a long time. Before she even knew me. I’m willing to help her see them. But if she can’t acknowledge them, what will happen?
