After Slugging Through The Healing Process For The Last 3.5 Years, I Feel Comfortable Enough Giving This

After slugging through the healing process for the last 3.5 years, I feel comfortable enough giving this kind of advice:

Find those little things that made you happy before.  You may be surprised to find that they will add little lights of happiness in your life once again. 

I powered through the entire Poirot series a few months ago.  I used to watch it with my parents on Masterpiece when I was young, but I hadn’t seen every episode, particularly the newer seasons.  

It’s so stylish and lovely. I love Art Deco, not that I’m an expert, and they show just the most beautiful clothing, housewares and architecture.  I always loved Suchet’s portrayal of our favourite Belgian detective. 

I would never have been able to watch something like this with him around. It would be ‘boring’  or just generally a waste of my time.

Being able to watch it again was like a fuzzy blanket. Or a warm cup of tea. So soothing and wonderful.

Small things can make a big difference, and I encourage you to indulge in those small things you enjoy.  “Everything matters” as Poirot would say.

Hercule Poirot + the finger

“Ah!” Poirot shook his forefinger so fiercely at me that I quailed before it. “Beware! Peril to the detective who says: ‘It is so small–it does not matter. It will not agree. I will forget it!’ That way lies confusion! Everything matters.” - Agatha Christie, The Mysterious Affair at Styles

I am burning out.

Double Standards Series - Episode 3

He would spend hours out of the house with his friends and I wouldn't text or call. We all need some space and time with our friends.

I was very lucky to get 30 minutes without a needy or angry text when I went out.

My partner and I have a key phrase that I say to indicate that she needs to make a decision without discussing it with me further.

Decision making can still make me break out into a cold sweat.

That ain’t love, my friends.

‘You fell in love with my flowers & not my roots, so when autumn came you didn’t know what to do.’

My broken heart

He was the King of absolving himself of responsibilities by intentionally doing them badly.

He wanted me to serve all his food, even his seconds, so he would make an enormous mess serving himself. A mess I would have to clean. So I of course chose the route that was less work in the long run.

In early cohabitation days he went at something I had made so hard that food ended up on the ceiling. I have no idea how he did that trying to put food on a plate; I think he even impressed himself.

I can laugh now. He was a millwright with machining background and welding experience.  He was so precise with the work he did, both with his tools and hands.  Yet, he couldn't figure out a spoon?

What a joke.