137 - A God, Fashionably Late

Lin

It seems that I will be writing two blog entries today.

Yesterday I experienced quite serious anxiety, but not for the reasons you'd think.

As time has gone by, voices that have seemingly been recorded, especially when it sounds like an argument, make me paranoid.

Part of the reason, as you probably already know, is because bin boy decided to get his friend to record me without my knowledge or consent, completely out of context.

Living in shared, where the walls and ceilings are paper thin, exacerbates the issue.

Every day, I live in fear of being scorned for standing up for my boundaries - because for almost twenty years, practically no one cared about them.

My heart has been in pain the whole day. Then, I miss a day of blogging. 

That's yet another thing to put on top of my woe box.

But I'll be writing twice - and seeing as it's only about twenty to three in the morning, I think I can allow it to slide just this once.

Here's a God who can be fashionably late - and get away with it, too!

Better late than never.

Terrence's arms are resting over my shoulders. I can't help but smile, though he can probably sense that I'm sad.

I usually do it.

I know, lovely.

He releases the embrace, ruffles my hair and takes a seat by me, wrapping one arm around me to draw me closer to him.

It's nothing to be ashamed of. And just because you feel like you've been through worse, and therefore shouldn't have missed writing, it doesn't make it true. Nor does it make your suffering any less valid.

If you didn't get round to writing, it's fine. You literally have an 136 day streak, with extra entries. You've gone above and beyond with this blog, so if you need to rest, go for it.

He's always so kind. 

I learned from you.

I raise an eyebrow, and he grins. The smile's back on my face, and so I snuggle further into his chest. He sighs contentedly.

Trugarez.

For what?

For always being so willing to get me out of my own head.

He nods, stroking my scalp.

Of course - you're my wife. But more than that, you're one of the people I love the most. I'll look after you in whichever ways I can.

Don't overdo it.

He snorts.

Like I would. It's for you.

Still. I care about your wellbeing, too.

He sighs again, his hand still in my hair.

I know. And I'll always appreciate that.

Let me worry about me, and everyone else here deal with that if it gets slightly out of hand, mat eo din? You're in no shape to be laying down the smack right now.

I nod.

Mat eo din. Karout a ran ac'hanout.

Karout a ran ac'hanout.