My friend and I painted the undercoat for the kitchen. It took us 4 hours to complete the whole 9 foot high walls and ceilings. I was proud of what we had done.
But that was overshadowed of feeling put down by my mum when I got home. The simple words of ‘is that it’ hurt me.
Getting shot down by what I’ve done as its not good enough for someone else. I get excited by buying something for the house and it’s not the priority.
When Dave said he missed the bus home I said I’d come to get him. I felt safe to cry in the car. On the way back he didn’t ask me what was wrong. He didn’t ask until we were home when I’m guessing he noticed something was wrong. He quickly redeemed himself by saying the right things and giving me hugs.
Words can hurt, more so when said a certain way.