What I’m Listening To

My Heart Aches for the Comfort

Over the past few weeks, I’ve had a number of twinges of heartache about my relationship with D. I’ve missed what we were and the places we’d go and the things we’d share.

I deeply, deeply miss the comfort we had together — the shared routines, the effortless time spent together, the unspoken ways we’d move in unison because we’d done things so many times before.

My heart aches for quiet nights together on the couch. It aches for the walk between the front door and my car, neither of us needing to ask who’s driving. It aches for the feeling of his hand slipping under my pillow, resting on mine as we drift to sleep.

My heart aches for the comfort.

A few times lately, I’ve caught myself considering what I’d do if D told me he’d made a mistake and asked to undo our breakup. I also caught myself censoring writing ‘fantasizing’ just now.

But sometimes, when I think about that question, my brain manages to muscle its way around the feelings. I have to force myself to remember that things weren’t as rosy as my heart leads me to believe.

He taught me, over and over that, even though things were comfortable, I wasn’t really safe.

Quick clarification: When I say ‘safe’ in this post, I am referring only to emotional safety. There was never any sort of abuse in our relationship, and my physical safety was never in question.

It’s Like Having a Luxury Mattress in a Room With a Cracked Ceiling

Every time I’d lean into comfort with him, something would happen to throw things into chaos. From gross inconsideration to cheating, he made it impossible to feel safe.

Safety with a partner is peace, not fear. It’s feeling at ease, at home, with your person, even when life is chaotic.

In his actions, D introduced a lot of anxiety into my life. He taught me, over and over, that I couldn’t trust my emotions with him.

Even though things were comfortable most of the time, they weren’t safe.

It’s like having a luxury mattress in a room with a cracked ceiling: It might be possible to be comfortable in that bed most of the time — you might even get some quality sleep — but the fear and anxiety that the ceiling will collapse will always be there.

This is the logical part of me pulling, hard, in the tug of war with my heart.