So, the other day, it just hit me. You know how sometimes you’re just going about your business, and then this wave of appreciation just washes over you for someone? That was me, thinking about my boyfriend. It wasn’t an anniversary, not his birthday, nothing specific. Just… a moment.
Getting the Idea Rolling
I’ve always been a bit rubbish at saying these things out loud. I mean, I feel them, deeply, but then the words get stuck somewhere between my heart and my mouth. It’s like my brain goes, “Nope, too cheesy,” or “He already knows, right?” Which, let’s be honest, is a terrible excuse. So, I figured, why not write it down? A proper, old-school thanks letter. I haven’t written a letter, like a real letter, in ages. Everything’s a text or a quick call these days.
My first thought was, “Is this weird?” But then I remembered this one time he fixed my ancient laptop. I was convinced it was a goner, ready to be chucked. I’d been moaning about it for weeks, probably driving him nuts. He just quietly took it, tinkered for a couple of hours while I was stressing about work, and then voilà, it was whirring away like new. He didn’t make a big deal, just said, “Try it now.” That kind of quiet support deserved more than just a “Hey, thanks, babe.” It deserved, well, a letter.
The Actual Process: Staring at a Blank Page
Alright, so I decided. Action time. I got myself a nice piece of paper – not too fancy, didn’t want it to look like a wedding invitation – and a good pen. And then I sat there. For a good twenty minutes, just staring at it. My mind went completely blank. It’s funny, isn’t it? You have all these feelings, and then when you try to put them into words, it’s like they all run and hide.
I started by just jotting down random things I appreciated. Little stuff, big stuff. It wasn’t a list for him, more for me, to get the thoughts flowing. Things like:
- His patience when I’m being indecisive about dinner (a daily struggle, folks).
- How he listens, like really listens, even when I’m rambling about something silly.
- That stupid joke he tells that still makes me laugh.
- The way he believed in me when I was doubting myself about that work project last year.
Once I had a few bullet points, it got a bit easier. I decided not to overthink the structure. I just wanted it to sound like me, not some greeting card poet. I started with a simple “I was just thinking about you today…” and went from there.
What Went In (and What Stayed Out)
I tried to be specific. Instead of just saying “you’re supportive,” I mentioned that laptop incident, or the time he stayed up late helping me prep for a presentation, even though he had an early start. I think those little details make it more real, you know? It shows you’re actually paying attention. I also made sure to mention how he makes me feel – safe, happy, like I can just be myself without any pretense.
I also made a conscious decision to keep it positive. This wasn’t the time to bring up that argument we had last Tuesday about whose turn it was to take the bins out. Nope. Pure, unadulterated appreciation. It’s surprisingly hard to stick to just the good stuff sometimes, our brains love to wander, but I was firm!
I re-read it a couple of times. Did it sound genuine? Did it sound like me? I tweaked a few words here and there. I remember writing a sentence that sounded way too formal, like something out of a period drama, and I just burst out laughing and scribbled it out. That’s the beauty of pen and paper, the little imperfections make it more personal, I think.
The “Delivery” and Feeling Good
Finally, I was happy with it. Or, happy enough. It wasn’t Shakespeare, but it was from the heart. I just folded it up and left it on his pillow one morning before I left for work. No big ceremony. The best part? It wasn’t really about his reaction, though of course, I hoped he’d like it. It was about the act of doing it. Taking the time to really think about someone and put those thoughts down. It felt good. Really good. It’s like decluttering your appreciation drawer – you find all these wonderful things you forgot were even there.
And yeah, he loved it. But more importantly, I felt like I’d finally managed to say what I often struggle to. And that, for me, was the real win.
