Butterflies…

I used to get butterflies constantly.

I would send a text asking for a favor and sit nervously waiting for the reply. It would either be really short or ignored. Butterflies.

I would hurry home to make dinner only to sit and eat it alone. Butterflies.

There were days when I would put special effort into looking nice, hoping that maybe one of those days I’d finally hear “you look beautiful.” Butterflies.

Most Saturday mornings I tried my best to get up first and start making breakfast. Rarely was that action reciprocated. Butterflies.

I tried to support and attend every work event or award ceremony. Every football game, rain or shine. I never felt appreciated. Butterflies.

It wasn’t until I was out of the situation that I realized the feeling of butterflies was anxiety. I was in a constant state of being anxious. Hoping I wouldn’t say the wrong thing or forget something that was “important.” I walked around on eggshells in my own home. I didn’t have one good night of sleep in 5 years. I would replay in my head what I might have said or done that triggered a rude comment towards me or a lack of affection.

I still get those butterflies. They happen when I ask a favor and feel like I might be the slightest inconvenience to someone. I get them when I feel exceptionally pretty and I think no one will notice. And while my angst is no longer constant, I still get that feeling of uncertainty more often than I should.

Everyday I do my best to make sure that I don’t allow someone to eclipse me. I should not be covered and I should not feel small. I fail at it some days, but I bounce back and make sure that I don’t live in those feelings. The road to healing is long and tedious, but I keep pushing myself and realize that each day gets a little bit easier. And that’s enough for me.

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