When You Don't Feel Safe Talking To Your Partner

When You Don't Feel Safe Talking to Your Partner

When people hear the words "I don't feel safe talking to my partner," many assume it means physical abuse.

Sometimes it does.

But sometimes...

It means something else entirely.

Sometimes it means you're afraid that every conversation will become an argument.

That every concern will be met with defensiveness.

That your feelings will be dismissed before you've even finished explaining them.

That your words will be interrupted, twisted, or thrown back at you later.

So you stop talking.  

Not because you've stopped caring.  Not because you've run out of things to say.

Because you've started protecting your peace.

You choose silence over another exhausting argument.  You stay in another room.  You wait until they're asleep before you cry.  You tell yourself, "It's not worth bringing up."

Little by little, your home begins to feel less like a place of comfort and more like a place where you're constantly managing conflict before it even starts.

That's a lonely feeling.

Feeling emotionally safe doesn't mean your partner always agrees with you. 

It means you trust that you can bring up difficult subjects without being belittled, mocked, or punished for having feelings.

There should always be a mutual respect, even in disagreements. 

Til We Speak Again, 

A Lonely Soul

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Leave a comment with your thoughts. Do you feel emotionally safe in your relationship? Or are you always walking on eggshells? Let's talk!

Avoiding Conflicts

Sometimes, avoiding conflict isn't about avoiding the conversation. It's about trying to prevent a conversation from becoming an argument.

Most of us have had moments where something or someone irritated us. Maybe not enough to start a fight, but enough that we needed a little time to process it.

So we stay quiet.

Not because we don't care.

Not because we're giving the silent treatment.

But because we're trying to calm ourselves down before we say something we'll regret.

Unfortunately, some people mistake silence for an invitation.

They keep asking.  They keep pushing.

"What's wrong?"

"Are you mad?"

"Just tell me."

"You're always mad good for no reason."

You politely say, "I don't want to argue."  But they don't stop.

Eventually, they push one button too many.

Then you finally react.

Suddenly, you're the problem.

They remember your reaction...

Not the twenty minutes they spent ignoring your request for space.

Here's My Story

The other day was like any other day. Only this time, my partner wanted me to bring him some goodies, to his job, to share with his coworkers. 

I was slightly irritated, but let it go. It was just one time, right? 

We talked, later that night, about the amount of goodies we were going through a week and how much it was costing us. 

We were going to slow down. Or so I thought. 

I even said "don't make this a regular thing." 

We were trying to save money for things needed around the house and other things. 

A second car. Furniture. Clothes. Knick snacks. A possible vacation.

The next day, same thing. 

So, I took him some goodies anyways.

I didn't want to argue about it, with him being at work. But when I arrived, he saw that I was not happy about this. 

We had just discussed this, t he night before.

And when I voiced that to him, he said something along the lines of "I didn't say that. I don't mind how much we go through." 

He twists things to fit his narrative or what he wants to do. 

Then later, when I picked him up from work, he notices that I'm still irritated over the issue. 

But I was quiet. And instead of just giving me space, he starts an argument about it.  

Even when I said we need it for bills, he said I was supposed to take care of it. But how can I when he's spending more than the norm?

But even when I told him multiple times that I don't wanna agrue, he keeps going.

Of course, that pissed me off more. 

And instead of trying to understand what I was telling him...that bills and house should be top priority...he expects me to handle all the bills with the limited money he gives me, along with our habits. 

That's not right.

Granted, he recently got a new job that pays more. But, we can't save money if he's spending more than normal.

Why am I so mad over something this small?

From the outside, it probably seems like I'm upset over goodies. 

I'm not. 

I'm upset because we made a plan together, and it felt like that plan no longer mattered. I'm upset because our priorities suddenly changed without a conversation. And I'm upset because instead of trying to understand why I was frustrated, the focus became my reaction instead of the reason behind it. 

Sometimes the argument isn't really about what's on the surface.

It's about feeling unheard.

It's about broken agreements.

It's about respect.

It's about wanting your partner to stop long enough to ask, 'Help me understand.'

Conflict isn't always unavoidable.

Sometimes it's created by refusing to listen when someone is asking for peace.

Until We Speak Again, 

A Exhausted Soul

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Leave a comment with your thoughts below. Do you avoid conflicts because you're misunderstood? Need a place to vent? Let's talk!

It's Okay to Choose Yourself Sometimes

It's Okay to Choose Yourself Sometimes

Are you the person who always puts everyone else first?

The one who makes sure everyone is okay before checking on yourself?

The one who says yes when you really want to say no?

The one who takes care of everyone else's needs while quietly putting your own on the back burner?

If you are, I want you to hear something:

It's okay to choose yourself sometimes.

Taking care of yourself doesn't make you

 selfish. 

It doesn't mean you don't love your family.

It doesn't mean you don't care about your partner, your children, your friends, or the people who depend on you.

It means you're human. And humans need care too.

We spend so much time making sure everyone else is happy that sometimes we forget to ask ourselves a simple question:

"What would make me happy?"

Maybe it's getting your hair or nails done.

Maybe it's trying a new hobby.

Maybe it's going to your favorite restaurant and ordering exactly what you want.

Maybe it's starting that little house project you've been thinking about.

Maybe it's taking the scenic route home just because you want to enjoy the view.

Maybe it's sitting somewhere quiet with a cup of coffee and doing absolutely nothing.

It doesn't have to be expensive. 

Sometimes self-care can be five minutes. Ten minutes. An hour. Or maybe, if you're fortunate enough to have the time, an entire day.

The amount of time isn't what matters.

Taking the time matters.

And sometimes self-care means saying no.

No, I don't want to go.

No, I don't have the energy today.

No, I can't take that on right now.

No, I need some time for myself.

And you don't always have to feel guilty for it.

You are allowed to have limits.

You are allowed to rest.

You are allowed to protect your peace.

You are allowed to do something simply because it brings you joy.

Mental health matters.

Your emotional well-being matters.

And constantly ignoring your own needs doesn't make you a better person. Sometimes it just leaves you exhausted, resentful, overwhelmed, and emotionally drained.

How can you constantly make everyone else happy when you're miserable inside?

How can you keep pouring into everyone else when your own cup is empty?

You can't always give from an empty place. That's why taking care of yourself isn't selfish.

It's maintenance.

Just like a car needs fuel to keep running, we need time to recharge too.

And sometimes we need more than a few minutes.

Sometimes we need to step away from everything.

Put the phone down.

Stop answering messages.

Stop solving everyone else's problems.

Stop worrying about what everyone needs from you.

And simply breathe.

Give yourself permission to exist without having to accomplish something.

You don't have to earn rest.

You don't have to earn happiness.

You don't have to wait until everyone else is okay before you're allowed to be okay.

And here's something else I've learned:

You shouldn't have to completely lose yourself trying to make other people happy.

The people who love you should want you to be happy too.

They should want you to have hobbies.

They should want you to have friends.

They should want you to have quiet time.

They should want you to laugh.

They should want you to have something that's just yours.

Because your happiness shouldn't be a threat to the people around you. It should be something they celebrate with you.

So if you've been putting yourself last for a long time, maybe it's time to move yourself a little closer to the front of the line. Not because everyone else suddenly matters less.

But because you matter too.

Take the drive.

Try the hobby.

Order the dessert.

Get your hair done.

Start the project.

Sit quietly with your coffee.

Say no when you need to.

Say yes to something that makes you happy.

Take five minutes. Take an hour. Take a day.

Whatever you need.

Because taking care of yourself isn't selfish.

Sometimes it's the most loving thing you can do—not only for yourself, but for the people you love.

A happier, healthier you has more of yourself to give. And maybe that's the real point of self-care.

It's not about putting yourself above everyone else. It's about remembering that you belong on your own list, too.

Until We Speak Again,

A Nurturing Soul

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Leave a comment with your thoughts. What's your self-care routine? What are your little joys of life? Let's talk!

Random Thoughts - Freestyle #1

How can someone idolize a genuinely good person... and still be so negative and disrespectful?

Why do bad things always seem to happen to good people?

Why are the kindest people so often the ones who are mistreated? Being kind doesn't make us doormats.

Why does everyone notice your anger or your depression... but not what caused it?

Why kick someone when they're already down?

Why do people give advice they can't even follow themselves?

Why do people, driving cars with dented back bumpers, keep trying to squeeze into impossible spaces in traffic? (I know... completely random. But I think it every time I see it.)

People wonder why you don't open up.

But when you finally trust someone enough to tell them how you feel... and they throw your words back in your face...

That's why.

How can I not relive the pain of past relationships when my current partner repeats the same behaviors that hurt me before?

How can someone say, "I love you," while treating your feelings like they don't matter?

Is it worth staying?

Will they change?

Or is loving someone sometimes not enough?

Just...

Random thoughts.

Untl We Speak Again, 

A Wondering Soul

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Leave a comment below with a random thought. What do you think about at 3am? Daydreaming at your desk? Zoned out during your favorite TV show? Let's talk!

Sacrifice vs. Compromise?

Sacrifice vs. Compromise: What's the Difference?

Relationships require both.

But sacrifice and compromise aren't the same thing.

We sometimes use the words interchangeably, as if they're simply two different ways of saying, "I gave something up for my relationship."

They're not.

Sacrifice is giving something up.

Compromise is finding a middle ground.

For example, imagine someone wants to finish college, but their partner has a career that allows them to comfortably support the household. They decide together that one person will put their education on hold to become a stay-at-home parent or spouse.

That's a sacrifice.

They're giving up something they wanted in order to prioritize something else.

Maybe someone gives up a hobby or habit because the household needs to save money.

That's also a sacrifice.

They're choosing to completely give something up.

But compromise is different.

Imagine you want star-gazer lilies at your wedding. You love them, but real flowers are expensive. Instead of giving up on having them altogether, you agree to use artificial star-gazer lilies.

You still get the flowers you wanted.

Your partner gets a more affordable option.

Neither person completely loses.

That's compromise.

And I think that's an important part of relationships that sometimes gets overlooked.

Compromise doesn't necessarily mean that both people get exactly what they originally wanted. It means both people are willing to adjust something so that both people can still have a voice in the outcome.

Maybe you want to go to one restaurant and your partner wants another.

You alternate.

Maybe one person wants to spend the weekend at home while the other wants to go out.

You spend Friday night at home and Saturday night out.

Maybe one person wants to take an expensive vacation while the other wants to save money.

You find a less expensive destination.

That's compromise.

But here's where I think things can become unhealthy:

When sacrifice only goes one way.

If one partner is constantly giving up their wants, dreams, hobbies, money, time, or opportunities while the other partner rarely gives anything up, that's not a balanced relationship.

And constantly saying, "I sacrifice so much for you," doesn't automatically make someone a good partner either.

Sacrifice should be appreciated. It shouldn't become ammunition.

Your partner shouldn't constantly remind you of everything they've given up as a way to control what you do.

And compromise shouldn't mean:

"You give in, and I get my way."

That's not compromise.

That's one person getting what they want while the other person learns to accept it.

A healthy relationship needs both.

There will be times when one person makes a sacrifice for the relationship. There will be other times when the other person does.

And there will be plenty of situations where neither person has to completely give something up because they can find a middle ground.

That's the beauty of compromise.

Sacrifice says, "I'm willing to give this up for us."

Compromise says, "Let's find a way for both of us to be okay with this."

And sometimes love means sacrifice.

Sometimes love means compromise.

But love should never mean that one person is always sacrificing while the other person is always taking.

Because eventually, the person doing all the sacrificing may look around and realize something:

They didn't compromise their life.

They gave it up.

And that's a very different thing.

Until We Speak Again,

A Reflective Soul

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Leave a comment with your thoughts. What's a sacrifice you made for your relationship? How important is compromising in your relationship?  Let's talk!

When Everything Becomes About Them

When Everything Becomes About Them

There are some people who leave you feeling lighter after every conversation.

And then there are people who leave you questioning your own reality.

Whether it's a friendship, a romantic relationship, a family member, or a boss, living with someone who consistently displays narcissistic behaviors can be emotionally exhausting.

At first, they can be incredibly charming.

Confident.  Funny.  Charismatic.  They know exactly what to say to draw people in.

But over time, something begins to change.

You notice that your feelings rarely seem to matter. Your accomplishments become their accomplishments. Your struggles somehow become an inconvenience to them. Your opinions are dismissed unless they agree with them.

One of the hardest things to understand is that every conflict somehow becomes your fault.

You tell them something they said hurt your feelings.  Instead of apologizing, they explain why you shouldn't feel that way.  Or they tell you you're too sensitive.  Or they remind you of something you did six months ago.

Before you know it, you're apologizing for bringing up the issue in the first place.

Some people call this gaslighting.

Whatever label you use, the result is often the same.

You begin questioning yourself. You replay conversations in your head. You wonder if you're overreacting. You start believing your feelings need permission before they can exist.

Another painful pattern is that they often focus on your reaction while ignoring what caused it.

They'll remember the moment you raised your voice. But they won't acknowledge the weeks or months of disrespect that led to your frustration.

They'll call you emotional. But not ask why you became emotional.

They'll paint themselves as the victim while leaving out the parts of the story where their own words or actions contributed to the situation.

And that's incredibly confusing for the person on the receiving end.

Because you're not asking for perfection. You're asking for accountability.

Relationships of any kind require two people who are willing to reflect on themselves.

To admit mistakes. To apologize. To grow.

When one person refuses to acknowledge their own role in conflict, the relationship slowly becomes one-sided.

You find yourself carrying the emotional weight for both people.

Eventually, you become exhausted.  Not because you don't care.  But because you're the only one trying.

I've learned that one of the healthiest questions you can ask yourself isn't:

"How do I make them understand me?"

It's:

"Do they genuinely want to understand me?"

There's a difference.

You cannot force someone to take accountability.  You cannot love someone into changing.  You cannot communicate enough for two people.

The healthiest relationships—whether they're with a partner, a friend, a family member, or a coworker—are built on mutual respect.  Mutual accountability.  Mutual empathy.

Because relationships aren't meant to be competitions about who's right.  They're meant to be partnerships where both people care enough to ask one simple question:

"How did my actions affect you?"

If that question is never asked...

The relationship slowly stops feeling like love, friendship, or teamwork.

It starts feeling like survival.

And no relationship should leave you constantly questioning your worth, your memory, or your voice.

Healthy relationships don't require you to become smaller so someone else can feel bigger.

They make room for both people to be seen, heard, and respected.

Until We Speak Again, 

A Neglected Soul

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When Home Doesn't Feel Like Home

When Home Doesn't Feel Like Home

There is a strange kind of loneliness that happens when you're not actually alone.

It's being in your own house and still feeling unwanted.

It's sharing a bed—or a home—with someone you love, while feeling like your presence doesn't really matter to them.

It's becoming quiet because every time you open your mouth, you already know you're probably going to be met with defensiveness, disrespect, or an argument.

And eventually, you stop talking.

Not because you don't have anything to say.

Because you've said it so many times that you're exhausted from repeating yourself.

I feel unheard in my own house.

I feel alone.

I feel unwanted.

I feel disrespected almost every time I try to bring something to my partner. I've been told, verbally, that my feelings don't matter.

And when the person you love tells you that they don't care how you feel, something inside you changes.

You start wondering...

Why am I still trying so hard to be heard by someone who has told me they don't care?

I've waited for apologies that never came.

I've waited for accountability.

I've waited for him to recognize what his words and actions have done to me.

I've waited for him to see the connection between the way he treats me and the way I've changed because of it.

Then there are the moments after we argue and separate ourselves. 

I'm in another room, trying to process everything that just happened, while I can hear him on the phone with his friends—laughing, joking, talking like everything is perfectly fine.

Sometimes he'll have music playing so loudly that it sounds like there's a party happening on the other side of the wall.

And I sit there listening.

Wondering how someone can seem so much happier when I'm not around.

Maybe that's not how he feels. Maybe he's just distracting himself. Maybe he's genuinely fine while I'm sitting there falling apart.

But that's what it feels like from my side of the wall.

It makes me wonder if my absence brings him more peace than my presence does.

And then, sometimes, after all the arguing and distance, he'll suddenly want sex.

That's another part I struggle to understand.

How can we go from barely speaking, hurting each other, and feeling completely disconnected...to suddenly being expected to be intimate?

I don't want to feel wanted only when my body is wanted.

I want to feel wanted when I'm sitting beside him.

I want to feel wanted when I'm talking.

I want to feel wanted when I'm upset.

I want to feel wanted when sex isn't involved at all.

I don't want to be someone he reaches for when he wants sex and retreats from when he wants peace.

I want to feel like my presence is something he actually wants.

And I'm starting to wonder if I'm going to be waiting forever.

I've had multiple people tell me to leave.

And maybe that's one of the hardest things to admit.

I love this man.

I have loved him enough to tolerate disrespect for more than a year while hoping things would change.

Hoping he'd finally understand. Hoping he'd look at me and realize that I'm not asking for perfection.

I'm asking for the basics.

Love.

Respect.

Honesty.

Accountability.

Effort.

Emotional safety.

That's it.

I don't need a perfect relationship.

I don't need someone who never makes mistakes. 

I need someone who cares when they hurt me.

Someone who can listen when I'm trying to explain why something hurt.

Someone who can say, "I was wrong. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel this way. Let's figure this out."

Someone who doesn't make me feel like having feelings is an inconvenience.

Instead, I've found myself distancing myself.

Staying in another room.

Keeping my thoughts to myself.

Living in an "out of sight, out of mind" relationship while still sharing the same house.

And that's a terrible way to live with someone you love.

At some point, I started realizing just how deeply this was affecting me. I became so overwhelmed and so emotionally broken by feeling unworthy of the love I was asking for that I became suicidal.

That's a sentence I never wanted to write.

But it's my truth.

And I'm not saying it to make anyone feel guilty.

I'm saying it because this is what feeling emotionally abandoned can do to someone.

When someone repeatedly feels unheard, unwanted, dismissed, and disrespected, eventually they may start believing that they are the problem.

Maybe I'm too sensitive.

Maybe I'm asking for too much.

Maybe I should stop bringing things up.

Maybe I should just accept things the way they are.

Maybe I'm not worth the kind of love I'm asking for.

But I am.

I am worth it.

And so are you.

I've spent so much time hoping that if I loved him enough, communicated enough, explained myself enough, or waited long enough, something would finally click.

Maybe he'd see me. Really see me.

See the woman sitting in another room because she doesn't feel safe enough to talk.

See the tears.

See the loneliness.

See the person who isn't asking him to be perfect—just asking him to care.

And now, because direct communication has become so difficult, I've found myself using social media and text messages as some of the last ways I know how to communicate what I'm feeling.

Maybe he'll read my words differently than he hears them.

Maybe he'll finally understand.

Maybe he'll finally see what I've been trying to say all along.

Or maybe he won't.

And that's the part I'm struggling with.

Because how long can you keep explaining your pain to someone who doesn't seem willing to understand it?

How long can you wait for an apology?

How long can you love someone while slowly losing yourself trying to make the relationship work?

I don't have all the answers.

I'm still here.

I'm still hurting.

I'm still trying to figure out what comes next.

But I'm beginning to understand something:

Love isn't supposed to require me to abandon myself just to keep it.

I shouldn't have to become silent to keep the peace.

I shouldn't have to hide in another room to feel comfortable in my own home.

I shouldn't have to beg to be heard.

I shouldn't have to prove that my feelings matter.

And I shouldn't have to become someone else just to receive the simple love I've been asking for.

Maybe love isn't always enough.

Maybe sometimes you can love someone with your entire soul and still recognize that the way you're being treated is hurting you.

Maybe sometimes the hardest thing isn't leaving someone you don't love anymore.

Maybe it's figuring out what to do when you still love them—but you don't love who you are becoming beside them.

Until We Speak Again,

A Tired Soul

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Leave a comments with your thoughts. Have you feel misunderstood in your own home? Cried yourself to sleep next to the one you love? Is love enough to save a relationship? Let's talk!

The Apology That Never Comes

The Apology That Never Comes

Have you ever waited for an apology that you knew you deserved?

Not because you wanted to win an argument.

Not because you wanted someone to admit they were wrong just so you could say, "I told you so."

You wanted an apology because someone hurt you.

You wanted them to recognize it.

You wanted them to look at you and say, "I understand what I did, and I'm sorry I hurt you."

But what happens when that apology never comes?

What happens when, instead of apologizing, they start digging through the past looking for something you've done wrong?

Suddenly, the conversation isn't about what they did anymore.

Now you're defending yourself. Your mistakes are being brought up. Old arguments are being resurrected. Things you've already apologized for are being used as ammunition.

And somehow, the person who hurt you has managed to turn themselves into the victim.

I've learned that sometimes people don't apologize because they don't believe they did anything wrong. Sometimes they know they were wrong, but their pride won't allow them to admit it. Sometimes they give you a technical acknowledgment instead.

"You were right. I was wrong. It won't happen again."

But somehow, that still doesn't feel like an apology.

Maybe because an apology isn't just admitting who was right and who was wrong.

An apology is recognizing the hurt you caused.

There's a difference between:

"You were right and I was wrong."

and

"I was wrong for the way I treated you. I understand that my words and actions hurt you, and I'm genuinely sorry."

One acknowledges the argument. The other acknowledges the person.

And sometimes, you can wait a very long time for the second one.

You might even start questioning yourself.

Am I asking for too much?

Should I just let it go?

Maybe I'm being stubborn.

Maybe I should apologize first just to make peace.

But there's something I've had to remind myself:

Wanting an apology doesn't make you petty.

Sometimes you aren't asking for an apology because you need to hear the word sorry.

You're asking because you need to know that the person who hurt you sees what they did.

You need accountability.

You need acknowledgment.

You need to know that your pain mattered.

And if you're constantly receiving less than you deserve, eventually you have to stop asking yourself how to get someone to give you more.

You have to ask yourself:

How long am I willing to accept less?

Because you can't force someone to feel remorse. You can't force someone to understand your pain. You can't force someone to take accountability. And you certainly can't force someone to apologize sincerely.

At some point, you have to stop waiting for the apology and start deciding what you are going to do with the hurt that remains.

Maybe that means setting a boundary.

Maybe it means having one final conversation.

Maybe it means stepping back.

Maybe it means reevaluating the relationship entirely.

Whatever you decide, don't let someone else's refusal to apologize convince you that what happened wasn't important.

Your hurt doesn't become invalid because someone refuses to acknowledge causing it.

And you don't have to keep begging someone to give you the bare minimum of accountability.

Sometimes the apology never comes.

And as painful as that can be, healing may eventually mean accepting that you deserved an apology from someone who simply wasn't willing to give you one.

That's not the same as saying what they did was okay.

It's saying:

"I can acknowledge what happened even if you won't."

And maybe that's where you finally stop waiting.

Until We Speak Again, 

A Tired Soul

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Leave a comment with your thoughts. Lack of accountability is a major problem in a lot of relationships. Do you agree or disagree? Let's talk!