In 2009, I was newly on my own, not brave yet, just surviving. Living with my foster sister, holding myself together one paycheck at a time. Minimum wage at Sobey's, aching feet, tired hands, a heart that wanted something steady.
That's where I met Tyler. An exchanged number between shifts. Attention felt like safety back then. So I stepped into a relationship before I fully knew how to stand by myself.
He lived in a crowded house, six people sharing space, noise everywhere, yet I felt invisible. He stayed glued to screens, lost in video games, while I sat nearby hoping to matter.
I didn't ask for much, Just effort, Just to be taken out, to feel wanted in a way that didn't demand anything from my body.
But he wanted more than I could give. I wasn't very sexual. I said no sometimes. My voice was quiet, but it was there. It didn't matter.
So I learned how to freeze. How to disconnect. How to feel trapped under the weight of someone else's needs. I grew depressed in that house, smaller each day, wondering if love was supposed to hurt like that.
Then there was Thomas.
Just a roommate. Kind eyes. Soft presence. Someone I noticed but was too shy to look at for long.
Thomas mentioned comic books, and I borrowed courage I didn't know I had. Can I read them?
That was it. No pressure. No expectation. Just kindness.
Friendship bloomed quietly. Lunches that felt easy. Early mornings when he drove me to Walmart, still half asleep, saying yes to helping without needing anything back.
With Thomas, I laughed. I felt seen. I felt safe before I even knew that's what safety felt like.
By November 2012, I couldn't ignore the truth anymore. I ended the relationship that was breaking me. I moved out. I chose myself, even though it scared me.
And in December 2012, I fell in love.
Not the loud, overwhelming kind. The gentle kind. The kind that doesn't rush or take more than it gives.
With Thomas, life opened up. We traveled. We wandered malls with nowhere to be. We laughed until our sides hurt. He is funny, smart, goofy, and he never made me feel small.
We built a life slowly. A cat joined November 29, 2014. Another on February 14, 2019, love layered gently. A puppy on April 14, 2021, energy and joy filling the house.
And somehow, without noticing the exact moment, I realized I was happy.
Not perfect. Not untouched by pain. But steady. Chosen.
I learned that love isn't pressure. It isn't fear. It isn't silence after saying no.
Love is laughter at the mall. Morning rides without expectations. Hands that respect your boundaries. A home that feels warm when you walk in.
I survived what almost broke me and I found my way to something real.
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