For my Kitten and her Ottis

Defensiveness typically arises from underlying fears of being wrong, fear of judgment or fear of vulnerability.

For many, it’s an instinctual reaction, a protective mechanism built to shield the ego from perceived threats.

You start feeling this heat in your chest, your heart races a little, and before you even realize it, you are saying, “That’s not what I meant!” or “You are taking it the wrong way!”

That is your nervous system going into defense mode.

When someone we love says, “You hurt me,” our brain often hears, “You failed.”

And for people who grew up walking on eggshells, trying hard to please or constantly feeling not enough, being wrong doesn’t just feel uncomfortable. It feels unbearable.

It touches that old unhealed part of you that says,

“If I am bad, I won’t be loved.”

So instead of leaning in, you fight back. Not because you want to hurt them but because deep down you are trying to protect yourself.

But here is the irony. Every time you defend yourself, your partner feels even more alone. Because while you are busy proving you didn’t mean to hurt them, they are just trying to tell you that they are hurting.

It’s like they are saying, “I need comfort,”

and you are replying, “I didn’t cause it.”

And the conversation dies right there.

This reaction can be especially common in relationships where emotions run high or when PAST WOUNDS have not been fully addressed.

If you can step back in the middle of that intense moment and realize that you’re being defensive, you can change it…

The main reason I invalidate you, discredit you,

is because I’m trying to stop feeling bad about your opinion of me.

I apologize.

That’s the truth most people never say out loud.

When you tell me something that hurts you,

I start to feel exposed.

I start to feel like the villain in your story.

And instead of holding that discomfort,

I defend.

I argue.

I minimize.

I tell you that you’re overreacting, too sensitive, misremembering.

What I’m really saying underneath all that noise is this:

I can’t stand how I feel about myself in your eyes right now.

It’s not that I don’t care.

It’s that I care too much about being seen as good.

And when your pain paints me as harmful,

I panic.

My nervous system goes into survival mode.

So I reach for control in the only way I know how,

by making your feelings seem less valid than mine.

That’s what invalidation really is.

It’s not just cruelty.

It’s self-protection.

It’s the desperate attempt to rewrite the story before it finishes being told.

The tragedy is that when I do that,

I lose the very thing I was trying to protect,

your trust.

You were never asking me to be perfect.

You were asking me to care.

You were asking me to believe you.

To stay with you in what you feel, even if it makes me uncomfortable.

But I didn’t know how.

No one ever taught me how to stay soft while feeling ashamed.

So I stayed defended.

And my defenses built walls between us that I never meant to build.

Every time I dismissed your pain,

I told your nervous system, “You’re alone here.”

And every time you went quiet after trying to reach me,

I told my nervous system, “You’re safe again.”

That’s the loop.

That’s the heartbreak.

We both wanted safety.

We just chased it in opposite directions.

I wanted to stop feeling like the bad one.

You wanted to stop feeling like the unseen one.

And neither of us got what we needed.

The truth is, invalidation doesn’t mean I don’t love you.

It means I don’t yet know how to love you when I feel flawed.

It means I don’t yet know how to hold your pain

without turning it into mine.

So if I ever do this again, if you see me minimize you, talk over you,

try to make your feelings smaller,

please know, I’m not trying to erase you.

I’m trying to survive myself.

But I can learn.

I can practice staying.

I can let myself feel the shame instead of projecting it.

And if I can do that,

if I can breathe through that moment when my chest tightens and my pride flares,

I can finally hear you.

I can finally love you where it matters most,

right at the intersection of your pain and my imperfection.

Because love doesn’t grow from being right.

It grows from being real.

And being real sometimes means saying,

“I see how I hurt you, and I can stay with that.”

That’s where the apology stops being words.

She enters his office with a surprise snack as he works away. Her sundress while tasteful wouldnt stand a chance to cover the bits that belong to him should he chose to bend her over the desk.

She gives him a soft kiss on the cheek handing him a tea before opening the cookies. "I didn't know you were in between calls" she says while tucking her dress under her bum before scootting on the chair across him. She crosses her legs and her dress exposes more bare thigh as she wiggles to get comfortable.

He leans back in his chair twisting his pen between his fingers as he explains his last call had ended a few minutes ago. She toss her hair from her face as he explains in more detail that she can really make sense of the complications he's faced with his current project. She smiles and nods, truthfully only listening as an excuse to hear his voice.

The sound of his phone interrupts his story. “Let me get rid of whoever this is” he says as he clicks on another call. She excuses herself from his office, heading to their den couch where a fluffy blanket that calls her name; the house seems much colder than outside and her legs are covered in goosebumps under her sundress.

She climbs onto the couch and covers her legs with the blanket. She's convinced he's retelling the story of his projects complications to whoever is in the call and clearly they are going to be awhile. She opens her ebook app, tucked into the blanket and dives into the last few chapters of her latest literary obsession. She nearly finished the book before her eyes got heavy cacooned in the blanket and her phone slid out of her hand and onto the floor.

He couldn't get rid of this guy he was yammering on about grievances about contractor issues and occupancy deadlines. In another situation he would have been all ears but there was a pretty little thing waiting for him. Despite all his efforts it took 45mins to get off the call and only we with the promise of a weekend site visit to iron our the issues in person.

He opens the office door an walking into the den he begins apologizing for how long that took. She doesn't respond, he made his way to the couch only to realize she has dozed off while waiting. Her phone on the floor likely slide from her hand before sleep hit her. Her hair messy, covered her face as she softly breathed sleep under the fluffy blanket.

He runs his hands up her bare legs poor kittens still cold, his touch sparked a small whimper from her sleepy body. He moves his hands higher up feeling the hem of her sundress graze the back of his fingers her body warm under the blanket, his finger slowly tracing the seam of her panties under her dress ever so gently as not to wake her fully. He traces her slit through her panties and another soft whimper escapes her. He teases her slit softly, slowly, within minutes he hits his jackpot; he can feel the wetness his teasing caused through her panties.

He uncovers his sleepy kitten from the blanket just enough to see her sundress flipped up and her white thin panties exposed, the fabric wet and exposed to him. He gently lifts the side of her panties, her wetness strings across her little peach mound as he prepares to wake her. He lowers his head to her peach shaped mound his tongue hits mid slit and is met with her whimper, he works his way quickly to her little bean slowly sucking gently when he feels her nails trace the stubble of his hair. “Good morning Kitten, did you have a nice nap?”

She giggles as he pushes her thighs apart farther, no need for gentleness now that shes awake a mess of giggles and whimpers. He is relentless, like a lion that hasn't eaten in days. His mouth hovers over her bean, his finger presses deep into her tight little hole. She tries saying something but all that comes out is soft whimpers and moans. She bucks into his finger, begging for more. “Do you like that sleepy kitty?”

“Do you want more my messy little kitty?” he takes his finger out almost completely while gently rubbing her clit with his thumb. She's soaked, his finger slick they moves easily in and out of her as she begs for more. Two fingers rub her slit as he uses her wetness to give her more. He presses two fingers into her slowly stretching to make room for his addition. “Own me” she moans and that all he needs to consent a thrust in and out increasing the intensity until her thighs shake as wetness splashes out of her under his fingers. He could feel her tighten around his fingers as she gave into his pleasure his fingers drenched in the juice he created in her.

She slowly leans forward on top of him and takes his fingers into her mouth sucking them clean. She can feel his hardness pressing into her stomach as she kisses his neck. He groans into her and that pulses through her as she unzips his pants. Slowly running her tongue along the shaft she wraps her lips around the tip, slowly sucking, her tongue twisting around it. A little deeper her mouth falls deep with every stroke. Pulling up to grin at him as he grunts, a string of spit and cum drizzle her lips. She rubs her lips on his shaft sharing the wetness to allow her mouth to glide deeper this time. He can feel the back of her throat as she excitedly bobs and sucks.

Her mound pressed hard on his leg as she allows hers to fully turn off her brain and simply exist to bring him pleasure. He notices her grinding on his leg, her juices soaking into his jeans. She soaked for him, she's dripping like a tap all from servicing his pleasure. “What a messy little kitty all wet just from sucking my dick” he teases her, turning her on more soaking a puddle into his jeans.

She pouts and slowly lifts from his hard cock. Sitting up she makes her way to the kitchen leaning on the island still pouting that he teased her for being such a wet mess for him. His lips meet hers his cock still hard pressed against her soft dress. He grabs both wrists with one hand bringing them about her head as he leans her onto the countertop. He pulls her panties down and untucks himself. Leaning into her body he enters the hot wet mess he created. A soft gasp escapes her as he eases into her, he slowly thrusts given her tight hole time to adjust to him.

Help me help you help me....

I am the one who does 90% of the cooking at home. When @daddysparrow asks me how can I help I freeze like I have no idea how to cook.

This is a hack we've tried, this is dinner it's prepped and later I will need to finish it up. This has given him the cheat sheet to "how can I help"

I'm not sure if that's a compliment or a jab...