chapter 7 Chair 2 saga

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Chapter 7
 Emotional Origami: Folding Myself Back After Being Crumpled by a Man Who Thinks Tears Are a Personality

Written by: Candz — Paper Swan Turned Fire-Breathing Dragon.



You know what’s worse than being gaslit?
Being gaslit and told you’re “too sensitive” while your ex throws a tantrum because you didn’t respond with a paragraph when he sent a sad song at 2 a.m. that he thought symbolized his deep pain—but was actually just Coldplay’s Fix You for the 900th time.

Welcome to Chapter 7 of Surviving the Casperverse- Chair 2 Saga, aka: Crafting your way out of the chaos with sarcasm, glitter, and a glue gun of boundary-setting.

Let’s unpack it.

Red Flags I Turned Into Pinterest Projects:

  • He said: “You don’t get me.”
  • I heard: I don’t get myself but I need you to pretend I do so I can feel emotionally deep without doing any work.
  • He said: “You always twist my words.”
  • I heard: You caught me mid-bullshit and now I’m panicking.
  • He said: “I’m allowed to express myself too.”
  • I heard: My emotional outbursts count as expressing, but your feelings are threats to my fragile ego fortress.

So I folded. Bent backwards. Twisted like emotional origami. I was a swan, a crane, a full-blown anxiety pretzel in yoga pants trying to hold it all together.


Mental Gymnastics I Should’ve Got Paid For:

  • Justifying his lack of empathy because “he had a hard childhood.”
  • Feeling guilty for needing reassurance… while he needed 12-hour validation marathons over a text I took 20 mins to answer.
  • Thinking I was the unstable one for crying—after he ignored me for 3 days and came back with a poem about his feelings of disconnection.

Sir, this isn't therapy. It’s trauma theatre and you're the lead actor who forgot your lines and blamed the stage.


Introducing: The Chair 2 Art Gallery of Absurdity

We hung his excuses on metaphorical walls:

  • “I didn’t mean it that way.” (But somehow he meant it when he said I’m cold when I stand up for myself?)
  • “I’m going through a lot right now.” (Same, babe. That’s why I don’t emotionally poop on people.)
  • “You’ve changed.” (Yes. I grew a spine and some sarcasm. Thanks for the push.)

Each line became a brushstroke in my unintentional masterpiece of how to survive a man with the emotional capacity of a soggy paper towel.


Healing Lesson of the Day:

You don’t have to make yourself smaller to love someone bigger.

Let me say that again for the people-pleasers in the back: You are not a f*cking emotional contortionist. You don’t owe anyone a performance of Perfectly Balanced Woman Who Cares But Never Cracks.

You can be soft and spicy. You can have boundaries and compassion. You can cry and still walk away with your mascara wing intact like the survivor queen you are.

Closing Line:

He folded.
You unfolded.
Now you’re an emotional origami dragon—flapping your wings, torching nonsense, and gluing your glitter crown back on.

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