I never understood the chair theory while I was with him. Back then, I only felt tired. Not physically, but emotionally. Each morning, Id wake, sensing that I had to earn my place, as though love was something to be proved daily.
It had been like that from the very start. Whenever we went out, I was the one rearranging my schedule just to see him. Id turn down invitations from friends, swap work shifts, dash between commitments. He always had something more important football, his mates, work, simply relaxing. And when we finally met, hed often be glued to his phonereplying to texts, watching videos. Id speak to him, but hed just mutter yeah, never really looking at me.
When we moved in together, I hoped things would change, that sharing a home might bring us closer. But it was just the opposite. Id get up early, work, come home to cook, wash, tidy. He would arrive, sit down, ask whats for dinner, then disappear off to his room to rest. When I asked him for help, hed say he was tired. Later. That later almost never happened.
I remember one particular evening. I was ill with a fever and asked him to make me soup. He just looked at me and said,
Cant you just order something?
So I got up, shivering, made my own soup, and wept as I stirred the pot. That was the first time I felt like a guest in my own house.
It was the same with his family. At gatherings, Id bring food, help set the table, serve, and wash up. No one ever asked how I was or if I needed anything. He never said,
Sit with me.
Come, stay here.
I was always busy, always invisible. One of his aunts once said,
Well, its lucky shes so helpful.
Everyone laughed. I smiled along. Inside, I felt used.
But what hurt most were the important daysmy birthday, especially. Every year, hed say wed celebrate another time, and that other time rarely came. But on his friends birthdays, hed find time, money, and energy. I was always in the backgroundcarrying presents, taking photos, applauding others moments.
The most vivid memory is a dinner with friends. We arrived, he took his place at the big table, chatting and laughing. I found myself sitting on a chair tucked by the wall. Nobody included me in the conversation. I watched the plates being passed, the laughter and exchanged glances, and felt itmy presence simply didnt matter.
When we got back home, I told him, tearfully, I felt invisible. He replied,
Youre exaggerating. Always making drama.
And then I realised, even my pain had no place.
After we parted, a friend explained the chair theory to me. She said something that stayed with me:
When someone loves you, youre never left waiting. They make room for you without being asked.
I began to replay our relationship like a film. Every time I wanted attention. Every time I waited for a message. Each time I stayed silent to avoid discomfort.
I saw then that, for years, Id been standing, emotionally balancing, trying not to be a bother, trying to be enough.
It wasnt only with him. It carried into friendships, where I always listened but was never heard. Into family, who sought me out only when they needed something. Into jobs, where I gave more than I received.
Today, Im still on my own. But I dont feel small anymore.
Now, when I walk into a room, I watch for a place. If theres none, I leave. If I must beg for attention, I step back. If my existence is made to feel awkward, I dont remain.
Because I finally understood, late as it was:
I wasnt born to plead for a seat.
I deserve a table where my presence is wanted.
