When the right words go to the wrong woman
The other night, my husband’s friend came over.
He started talking about his wife — how she’s been anxious lately, overwhelmed, barely functioning. Her doctor said it was perimenopause.
And there, without missing a beat, my husband says:
“Just be there for her. Hold her hand. Rub her back. Bring dinner.”
I looked at him like he’d grown a second head.
Because I’ve been living exactly that kind of exhaustion for years, and where has he been?
Certainly not at home holding my hand.
Living in the gap between what he says and what he does
It hit me hard.
Not because his advice was wrong. It was actually perfect.
But because he’s never followed it. Not with me.
It’s like he knows the playbook. He just doesn’t think I’m the one who needs the care.
I’m not saying he’s a bad person. He’s kind, he works hard. But when it comes to showing up emotionally, he’s absent.
I’ve had night sweats so bad I had to change the sheets at 2 a.m.
I’ve cried in the bathroom with the door locked because I didn’t want to explain again that it wasn’t just stress.
I’ve spent weekends stuck in bed, overwhelmed by everything and nothing.
And he still thinks dinner and back rubs are advice, not actions.
What silence does to us, year after year
I didn’t explode. I didn’t even say anything in that moment.
But inside, I was tired in a way I can’t explain. The kind of tired that stacks up over years of small disappointments.
We normalize so much.
We excuse, we adapt, we tell ourselves it’s not that bad.
And then one day, someone says the exact thing we needed to hear, just not to us. And it cracks something open.
It’s not just about being unsupported.
It’s about not being seen.
And when you feel invisible to the person who shares your bed, it gets lonely fast.
Wanting softness isn’t weakness
We’ve all been told to be strong. To be low-maintenance. To handle things.
But honestly, sometimes I don’t want to be strong.
I want someone to notice that I’m trying to hold it together.
I want someone to bring the damn dinner without being asked.
That’s not drama. That’s love.
And when it’s missing, it leaves a mark. Even if you don’t talk about it. Especially if you don’t talk about it.
Why Ceceloom exists and who we made it for
I didn’t start this brand to fix relationships.
I started it because I needed something, anything, that felt like care when everything else felt like work.
The Night Bra doesn’t replace emotional support.
But it does give your body a little relief, especially when nobody else is offering any.
It holds you without squeezing. It respects your skin, your soreness, your changing shape.
It’s not just lingerie. It’s a quiet “I see you.”
Even when no one else does.
Sarah L.
Still waiting for the back rub. But at least now, I sleep supported.
