Food Hypocrites

Marriage is a beautiful union that sometimes has many sharp sides hurting the other member. Unfortunately, these cutting edges can be shocking discoveries piercing deep into our physical and mental beings, leading to many losses.
This story highlights the negative word choices continuously used by a husband. The flesh-cutting choices of words range from a paper cut to a vicious amputation by a power saw. These wounds are apparent but probably hard to recognize by the victimized spouse. The discomfort and pain of all the inflictions are hard to analyze in the moment’s despair but felt deeply as the whole breaks.
The trauma of hurt and affliction will affect both members even if it is inflected by one. These emotions will lead to unhealthy discoveries that can create positive outcomes.

The words misconduct (Papercut)
It is beautiful to be loved and adored by someone so kind and gentle. It has always felt like the best decision to be with you for the rest of my life, and I was sure you would make me the happiest. It was how you love, support, and adore everything about me holistically and my happiness is your utmost priority. The person I am about to describe could not be you; therefore, let me tell you about voices that leave your mouth.
Our marriage is perfect because it involves two people who are easiest to love and hardest to give up. It was the dream partnership involving many firsts, sacrifices, and acceptance. Our marriage did not require traditional values and norms but opportunities to discover ourselves as one. We thought our love would always be enough and did not worry about the individual or external factors that may affect our union. Our vows only focused on the commitments, confidence, and strength of love, with a personalized quote of “Our love is endless.”

We understood the inevitability of vulnerable moments and the importance of disagreement to maintain balance. Therefore, expressing feelings and concerns was encouraged to preserve our uniqueness, making us the greater whole. The difference in our personalities has driven excellent compatibility for affection.

Our love can never be ugly or wrong, but it can be painful.
It started when I became unhappy with my career choice of caregiver in a new city where we have recently moved. The town was our land of adventures and blocks for building; however, no room for specialization accommodation. We continued to be optimistic in our settlement and determined to conquer the odds of pending misfortune. After several attempts, we found stable jobs.

You started to comment on our external factors and quickly attended to the lack of formalities leading to mishaps and forgetfulness. Your comforting and reassuring voice began to sound strange but understood the complexity and overwhelmedness of the situation. As things continued to resolve, the odd voices were left in the same zone leaving a little confusion in my heart but hope for restoration. The expressions and words started to reside in our daily conversion, leaving no room for grace or mistakes. It is like a constant reminder and armour to ensure we never resort to the brutal battles of the recent past. It was like a form of protection with barriers made of flashing phrases of orations and regulations.
The voices started to remind me to ensure my utmost certainty and allegiance before conforming to simple decisions such as food selection and outings. This particular voice could not have known our relationship and the freedom of choices and adventures we have discovered over the years. Was it just being cautious and wanting things to be perfect to avoid any stress or regrets of these external decisions? Accordingly, he uttered just wanted things to be suitable for my well-being. Maybe my rough days have exposed an awkward attribute that created a conscious shield to prevent regression.
Our fairytale continues but so do the voices of Papercut. Things continue with the absence of grace and the need for perfection. I was not as mindful, careful, or thoughtful as before and was held deeply accountable for my inadequacy. His voice was frustrated as he asked why I had to do things a particular way or how I could be so forgetful. I started wondering and asked myself the same questions and apologized for the shortcomings. Where was the humane grace that I extended, though? I accepted all the flaws and filled the absence of your empty promises and delayed tasks. Am I the only one expected to be perfect? Maybe I deceived you with only positive attributes and my keenness of consistent immaculate. It must have been hard to realize that I had deficiencies.
We continued in our glory days as our concerns were minimal and progressions speedy. As we move past the obstacles of perfection, annoyance begins to reside in our voices. Are you kidding me? There is absolutely no way you could be annoyed by things we have been doing. You voiced annoyance at our typical gestures and persisted in portraying my components as weird and absurd. The disappointments that filled our hearts in those moments were felt and expressed differently. We represent the oppositions that attract and are now repelling with similarities. The pattern of similarities in our gestures is probably annoying. Our uniqueness is fading, and it is the basis of our love. The inability to uphold my initial standards and qualities is a reality of change.
Our relationship is sufficient with assured hope to recover from our ordeals. We had a few concerns that we could work through with patience and time. It would be possible to work things out by addressing the matters at hand. We were starting to find ways to accommodate and appreciate the uniqueness of each other until your voice disturbed our peace. Am I sensitive, or are you becoming more discourteous with your expressions? Your voice was the ugliest, describing my appearance as being off with assumptions of weight gain being the causative factor. I tried to understand your voice as I inspected my physicality, hurrying to find the flaws so that I could create a plan for amendments. I can remember your voice being so disgusted, creating a wave of shock and embarrassment that brought numbness. Maybe I am sensitive; you were indicating a few changes observed. The sound of the voice repeatedly haunts me as I wonder about the severity of the changes observed.

The words of intent (The flesh wounds)
The love I have for you can only expand to every inch of my heart. I know you love me, but your words and tone exhibit much hate and disgust. Should I even tell you the things you said to me? Do you even recall causing harm to your love? It was my birthday, and the excitement of celebrating together filled my heart, and the guess of possible gifts played on my mind all day. I was sure you would make my day very special, and the wait to start the celebration was unbearable. We love birthdays and celebrations, or am I the only one? You did not buy me any birthday gifts! You had no plans for my birthday, sigh.
I remain cheerful because you must have had something tucked away and a late schedule to make things extra special. No, please don’t do this on my birthday. As I question the possibility of the unfolding outcome, your flesh-cutting words interrupt lashes creating deeper wounds than the matter at hand. You defended your inactions but stated that it would take a lot for you to buy a gift that would be appreciated and plan a date that would complement my excitement. The anticipation and joy triggered a burdensome response resulting in frustration and strain. I was hurting out of unmet expectations, a lack of appreciation, and an absent expression of care and love. This memory always saddens me because I was almost sure it would have been a lovely day filled with heartfelt moments and fulfilled desires. It was a sad day for both of us, but I have decided that we could do something the following weekend to acknowledge the moment and change the lingering emotions. A second chance is always appreciated by those eager for change. The weekend approaches with silence and ends with the same feelings; the excuse for short notice was the one used. I wish things had turned out differently, but can you imagine being worse than the persona described? The hope was firm, but your reality was harsh. I didn’t want to experience the terror about to disclose.

The unleash (The Power Saw wounds)
Your words are not you, but the overpowering emotions influenced by external factors resulting in an outpour of anger and outrage. You are inflicting wounds of death and disfiguring the elements of our love and affection. How can we look at each other after voicing reckless thoughts that oppose the tenderness of our hearts? Do I look at your heart or listen to your voice? I am wondering if your heart changes to the conformity of your voice. You have lost so many aspects of my affection towards you. How can we come back from this? The frustration in your eyes as you voiced that you hate being at home and would feel better at work racked my sanity. I did not understand the meaning of such hatred and the actions that warrant the boldness of your expression. I have to be at fault; the actions seem to be mislabeled and are merely a reaction. People say horrible things in adverse situations as a defence strategy.
I would probably consider accepting an apology was offered.

I want you to know that I love your heart, and as you would say, “our love is endless.”