It sounds so simple, right? “Love spending time with you.” But man, it wasn’t always this straightforward for me. Not by a long shot.
There was a time when “quality time” felt like another item on a never-ending to-do list. Something I knew I should do, but actually feeling it? That was different. I was just going through the motions, if I’m being honest.
The Grind Was Real, You Know?
I was always “on.” Plugged in. That phone, my god, that phone was like an extension of my hand. Work stuff, random notifications, the endless scroll. I’d be physically present, sure, but my brain? Miles away, probably replaying some stupid meeting or worrying about the next big project.
And you noticed. Of course, you did. I’d see that little flicker in your eyes, the one that said, “Are you even here with me?” And the rotten part? Half the time, I probably wasn’t. It felt awful. I felt like I was failing, truly.
So, What Changed? My Little “Practice”
It wasn’t some dramatic, movie-moment kind of thing. No violins, no sudden enlightenment. It was more like I got sick and tired of feeling disconnected, of being that distracted version of myself. I knew I had to actually do something. This wasn’t just going to magically fix itself.
My “practice,” if you want to call it that, started really, really small. And yeah, it felt super forced at first, not gonna lie.
- First thing I did: I started to consciously put my phone in another room when we were supposed to be spending time together. Sounds easy, but man, the itch to check it was intense in the beginning. Like a phantom limb.
- Then, I started to block out actual, dedicated time. Not just “we’re in the same house” time, but “let’s actively do something, just us” time. Even if it was just for 20 minutes.
- We began with super simple stuff. Taking a walk around the block, no phones allowed. Or just sitting and having a coffee, actually talking. Sometimes we’d try to cook something new together, even if it ended up a bit of a disaster.
The first few attempts? Oh, they were awkward. Seriously. Like trying to have a conversation after you’ve forgotten how. What do you even say when there isn’t a screen to fill the silence? I felt a bit pathetic, to be honest.
But I kept at it. Stubbornly. Little by little. Sometimes it was just managing five minutes of truly focused attention, really listening, not just waiting for a gap to talk about myself or thinking about my to-do list.
And then, slowly, something started to shift. I actually began to look forward to those little pockets of time. That “forced” effort started to feel less like a chore and more like… a breath of fresh air. A genuine escape.
Now? Now it’s just part of us. That feeling of genuinely connecting, of just being present without all the usual chaos buzzing around? That’s the good stuff. It took work, conscious, deliberate work, to get to this point. It wasn’t just luck. It was deciding to make a change and then sticking with it, even when it felt weird.
So yeah, I love spending time with you. And I mean it from the bottom of my heart now. Because I remember vividly what it was like when I didn’t really know how, or when I let all the other noise get in the way. Not doing that again. This is way too important.
