Somewhere between "Sex on Fire" and "Use somebody", Gravity had shifted. I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Finally, I had found my person.
I wanted so badly to write a happy-ever-after. I wanted to be done with dating and be building a future. I couldn't write the story I wanted because he chose to be my lesson.
The last lesson was about boundaries and pushed me to be firm with mine. This lesson has been the hardest and the most painful so far.
I learned that I deserve appropriate amounts of attention, boundaries where our space is respected and laughing our way to compromise when we disagree.
I deserve spontaneous road trips complete with car karaoke; singing loud and out of key. No judgment of my tone-deafness or my eclectic taste in music.
I deserve challenge, growth and friendly competition. Someone to teach me something new every week. Someone who wants to learn from me.
I deserve concerts, in the park, in the backyard, on lazy Sundays in bed; to be serenaded just because.
I deserve someone to take turns making dinner with, to go out with, stay in with. Someone who loves random day dates, climbing sessions and last-minute trips to the beach.
I deserve passion and ambitions. Someone who is determined to keep being better but remains humble and kind.
I deserve someone to fall asleep to, to cuddle me and keep me warm. Someone to wake up to, no matter how grumpy or hungover I am, I am still happy to be waking up alive with them.
I deserve someone who doesn't see my PTSD as a red flag or a burden. Someone who understands that the frustration and anxiety I am feeling is not their fault.
I deserve patience when my PTSD overwhelms me. Someone who makes me feel safe and that everything will be okay, sitting on the bathroom floor holding my hand while I cry in the bath with a face mask on (#ultimateselfcare).
I deserve someone who hears me and responds to my needs but knows when it's appropriate to let me talk and filters out the unimportant things. Who knows that sometimes I am just hangry or need some sunlight and saltwater.
For the longest time my PTSD made me feel unlovable. All the guys I date reaffirmed it by fleeing when they found out I had PTSD or ending it because I was too much (Let's be honest most of them where just assholes trying to get laid). Then the Universe sent me this one really great guy, who did all these things I never expected or realized I was worthy of. He made me feel loved by his actions. He made me feel safe and gave me hope. Just hearing him made my racing thoughts slow down. Being around him made my anxiety and sad feel less bad. Don't get me wrong the negative feelings were still there, they were just much more bearable. There was one thing he forgot.
I deserve someone who worships my body the same way I do. Who wants to touch and hold and kiss all of me and my scarred skin. Someone who chooses to love me every day, even after the infatuation fades.