I Watched Something That Pulled On My Heart Strings Too Hard Earlier Today And I Can Feel Myself Sinking

I watched something that pulled on my heart strings too hard earlier today and I can feel myself sinking into a hole. So I'm attempting to cheer myself up by telling my lady as many dad jokes as I can get my hands on. Her groans from the other room are breathing life back into me.

Got any good ones?

Against some of my more rational thinking, i tried to see if I could find the woman on Facebook.

I think she has me blocked because I couldn't find her and I definitely found her before. Which means he would have asked her to block me. He must be afraid.

That gives me immense satisfaction.

If I made it twice a month I "never" made it. If I made it three times a month I "always" made it. I ruined his favourite dishes by making them too often. But I also never made them enough.

My head was always spinning.

Food was always a Thing

He'd tell me he was bored with the food I made so I'd find a new recipe. He would criticise everything about it, say it looked disgusting and ask why I was so stupid.

So he'd give me one to try, I'd make it and he'd love it. If I made it again, it was never as good as the first time. If I made it again he hated it. If I never made it again he would tell me that he loved it and I was withholding it because I was lazy/a cunt.

Kindness to myself is how I will erase him.

when i was a teenager it felt very revolutionary to be cruel to myself. like some kind of slow passive protest against how much everything hurt. i starved myself of sleep and food and tenderness because it felt right. it felt sharp and angry and radical and i wanted to be those things. adulthood is the realisation that the world is already working to cut into you well before you learn how to do it yourself. caring for yourself and others is the real protest

Find you a partner who, knowing you love them, will make oatmeal peanut butter cookies despite hating both peanut butter and oatmeal themselves.

Golden

An abused person masters the art of silence.  You sob quietly, scream quietly, pick yourself up from the ground and assess your injuries quietly.  You discover a way to perform all your tasks making as little noise as possible.

You forget the sound of your voice, and all the little sounds of life become a deafening crime you hope go unnoticed.