I'm really struggling with this idea of comfort vs. safety. My body says I wasn't safe. The chronic pain, the drain of my energy - in hindsight, I believe these were all signs that this man wasn't safe for me. Even the constant need for reassurance and validation were signs he did not hold my heart the same as I held his.
But that man was such a source of comfort! I remember the way my eyes immediately found him the moment he stepped in a room. I remember the comfortable silence. I remember the moments I felt seen. I remember the laughter we shared together. I remember the pride I felt in being his wife. I remember the calm that washed over me at the sound of his voice. I remember the sense of home I felt whenever I was with him no matter where we were.
He was my comfort. How could he not be my safety as well? But did he ever truly have my interests in mind?
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