Dear Diary,
20/07/2025
Sometimes, one sentence is enough to touch something deep inside us … a place the other person doesn’t even know exists.
I’m seeing someone. I call him Sol.
We don’t live far apart, just about an hour’s drive.
Not long distance but still, it takes effort and planning to be with each other.
And honestly, I appreciate every bit of it. Even an hour together means something real to me. Those small moments, sitting, talking, even doing nothing …matter to me.
A few days ago, I noticed something small but meaningful. He had left a key for me on the picture frame on my locker. He didn’t mention it but when I saw it it felt like a quiet gesture. Like a soft way of saying “You’re welcome here. I’m letting you in.”
I didn’t have a chance to tell him… But It felt warm and kind.
We had a chat about his brother visit and that he’d have his kids for the whole week.
I completely understood. Family time is important and I didn’t expect anything different. I knew the week would be full and I wasn’t expecting him to give out hours he didn’t have.
But still … wanting to connect even for short while, so I offered to go and give him a haircut. Not because he asked. Just because I wanted to. Even if it was just a short while, even if we’d only have a moment. Sometimes, the smallest gestures feel like the biggest connections.
His reply was simple…something like
“Would you really travel just to give me a haircut? Do something for yourself. I’ll see you next weekend.”
I didn’t have expectations, I wasn’t angry.
I just wanted to be understood.
So I wrote to him, gently with not to blame, just to invite empathy. I asked him to flip the roles for a second and imagine being me , loving someone from a bit of a distance, not getting to see them often and then hearing, “Do something for yourself. I’ll see you next weekend,”
How would he feel?
But his response hit me in a way I didn’t expect. He said:
“If that were the case, I’d think my partner was schizophrenic.”
I respect his honesty, his undestanding of the message.
But it took the air out of me. It shocked me.
He didn’t know the weight of that word for me.
He didn’t know that my mother had schizophrenia, that it shaped my childhood, the way I saw the world and the way I’ve learned to love with care and sensitivity, with a lot of questioning, dealing with lack of consistency and indecisiveness.
That word isn’t just a phrase to me. It’s part of my story.
It carries years of navigating confusion, fear, love and loss but undestanding too.
To hear it used that way, even without him knowing , opened a place in me that I usually keep very protected.
And still, I don’t feel he meant to hurt me.
He didn’t know. I didn’t tell him that part me and my journey.
I honestly believe he didn’t realize how deep that word could cut. It was just a moment of misalignment, one of those times when two people are speaking from completely different emotional landscapes.
But even though it stung, it left me with something worth holding onto … a few quiet truths:
That communication is an act of love.
Not always easy but always worth it when the goal is connection not control.
That people carry invisible stories.
Words matter. We never know what someone else might carry behind a calm tone or a quiet smile.
That small gestures speak loudly.
A key left on a picture frame may say more than a long speech ever could. That’s how love often arrives, quietly but meaningfully.
That love is a process not a perfect performance.
We misunderstand each other. We miss cues. But we can also return to each other with softness and effort … again and again.
That being loved is beautiful but being included is essential.
To be seen not just as a visitor but as part of someone’s everyday rhythm that’s what makes love feel safe to me.
That old wounds need tenderness and compassion not shame.
I didn’t react with anger. I reacted with truth, of how I felt. And that’s how healing continues, through truth spoken with care.
So no, I’m not angry. I choose me. I’m tender, but I’m also proud of myself, for speaking up, for staying me and for choosing love even in discomfort.
This isn’t about who’s right. It’s about learning each other. Loving each other better. Slowly, gently and with curiosity.
And that’s the kind of relationship I want, not one without bumps but one where bumps are met with listening. Where every misunderstanding becomes a chance to see more not less. Where love means making space not just saying the words.
Because love for me is not only just something you give.
It’s something you build together.
So if there’s one thing this moment reminded me of it’s this:
“Listen more softly. Love more consciously.
Don’t be affraid the bumps, they’re not signs to leave but opportunities to undestand more deeply.
And above all… Never underestimate
the power of being fully yourself.”
Love Kay ❤️ Xx
Go With The Flow 