Sunday Scribblings post-prompt "Raw"
Raw
Some days are just abrasive. It's like navigating a very narrow, overly complicated bastard child of an obstacle course and a tall maze made of coarse grit sandpaper. Once I'm finally through it, I just want to collapse into the sanctuary of my home, maybe read a book if I feel up to it, and just wrap myself in a warm, soft, comforting layer of insulation.
I know that I'm not fit company for anyone. Those days leave me in a state where I'm so emotionally raw that the slightest bump in any direction, no matter how well-intentioned will set me off into territory that I wish I wasn't headed towards. I don't mean to be so overly sensitive but I really can't help it.
He knows what those days are like because, sometimes, he has them too. He lets me just go into our bedroom and settle into our bed and just not deal with anything at all for a while. After a while, if I haven't come out on my own, he'll come in to check on me. He knows that I don't want to talk about it and that I probably don't want company, but he needs to see that I'm going to be okay eventually. He'll sit there, on the edge of the bed, just quietly watching me, waiting to see if I need some affection, or some water, or even a tissue. If I don't, he'll get up and let me have whatever space I need.
Those raw days are something I just have to take care of myself. It's enough to know that he wants to help and that he understands that sometimes, he can't.
Some days are just abrasive. It's like navigating a very narrow, overly complicated bastard child of an obstacle course and a tall maze made of coarse grit sandpaper. Once I'm finally through it, I just want to collapse into the sanctuary of my home, maybe read a book if I feel up to it, and just wrap myself in a warm, soft, comforting layer of insulation.
I know that I'm not fit company for anyone. Those days leave me in a state where I'm so emotionally raw that the slightest bump in any direction, no matter how well-intentioned will set me off into territory that I wish I wasn't headed towards. I don't mean to be so overly sensitive but I really can't help it.
He knows what those days are like because, sometimes, he has them too. He lets me just go into our bedroom and settle into our bed and just not deal with anything at all for a while. After a while, if I haven't come out on my own, he'll come in to check on me. He knows that I don't want to talk about it and that I probably don't want company, but he needs to see that I'm going to be okay eventually. He'll sit there, on the edge of the bed, just quietly watching me, waiting to see if I need some affection, or some water, or even a tissue. If I don't, he'll get up and let me have whatever space I need.
Those raw days are something I just have to take care of myself. It's enough to know that he wants to help and that he understands that sometimes, he can't.