The Small Thing That Tells Me I Don't Matter
My husband's job is dinner. Mine is laundry. That's how we run our household. And when he doesn't handle dinner...
My husband’s job is dinner. Mine is laundry. That’s how we run our household.
And when he doesn’t handle dinner for a couple of nights in a row, I get cranky.
Not just mildly annoyed. Cranky. Irrational. Disproportionately upset about something that, logically, isn’t that big a deal.
It took me years to understand why.
Because it’s not really about the dinner.
I don’t even cook much. I can cook—I’m capable of surviving—but I eat to survive, not for pleasure. My husband is the cook in our house. That’s his contribution. That’s his role.
When we have a lazy night—hot dogs with the kids, something simple—I’m fine with that. When we’re both too tired and just throw something together, I’m okay.
But if it becomes a pattern? If there are multiple nights where we’re both just getting lazy about it? If dinner becomes something I have to think about instead of something that’s handled?
I get cranky.
And it’s not rational. I know it’s not. But it took me a long time to recognize what was actually happening.
The recognition came when I finally connected the dots: This is my daily barometer for neglect.
When dinner isn’t handled, somewhere deep in my nervous system, I’m interpreting it as: “I don’t matter enough to think about. I don’t matter enough to plan for. I don’t matter enough to care for.”
It’s not about the food. I won’t starve. I can figure something out. I can pick something up. I can eat cereal for dinner if I have to.
It’s about the daily evidence that someone is taking care of me.
I have memories—vivid, painful memories—of being neglected on special days. Birthdays where nobody showed up. Events where I was forgotten. Dances where I learned to do without.
I wasn’t important enough to remember. I wasn’t valuable enough to prioritize. I learned early that I could survive on my own because I had to.
So now, as an adult in a healthy marriage, dinner becomes this strange daily test: Do I matter today? Am I being thought of? Am I cared for?
When the answer feels like no—even if that’s not the reality—something in me gets activated.
The reflection came in understanding that this trigger is specific to me. Not everyone would react this way. Not everyone has this particular barometer.
Your barometer might be different. Maybe it’s whether your partner texts you during the day. Maybe it’s whether friends remember your birthday. Maybe it’s whether your kids call when they say they will.
But if you were neglected, you have these triggers. These small, seemingly irrational things that set you off because they connect to something much deeper.
Once I identified mine, I could talk to my husband about it.
I said: “I know this might sound silly, but dinner matters to me more than it logically should. It’s become this thing where if it’s not handled, I start feeling neglected. And I know that’s my stuff, but I need you to know it’s there.”
He got it. He understood. And now when we’re in a busy season or things are getting lazy, he’s more aware. He’ll check in: “What sounds good for dinner tonight?” Even if it’s just picking something up, the act of thinking about it matters.
That’s the opposite of neglect. That’s care.
The renewal came in understanding I can identify these triggers without shame.
It’s not weak to have specific needs that connect to old wounds. It’s not needy to require certain things from the people closest to you. It’s not too much to ask for daily evidence that you matter.
But I do have to communicate it. My husband can’t read my mind. He doesn’t have the same trigger. His trauma shows up differently.
So I have to say: “This matters to me. I know it might not make complete sense. But dinner is my daily barometer for whether I’m being cared for, and I need you to understand that.”
The rise has been learning to recognize other places where this shows up.
Birthdays are another big one for me. I have so much abandonment tied to special days that I now proactively protect myself. We leave town for my birthday. My phone goes on do not disturb. I’m not available for people who historically disappoint me.
Is it because everyone’s awful? Kind of. But it’s also because I’m done letting old wounds get reopened every year. I’m done hoping this time will be different. I’m done eating shit and calling it pudding.
I’ve learned to nurture myself instead of waiting for others to do it.
But the dinner thing—that’s daily. That’s ongoing. That’s something I need from my primary relationship, and I’ve learned to ask for it clearly.
Here’s what I want you to understand: You probably have these triggers too.
The ones that seem irrational. The ones where you’re disproportionately upset about something small. The ones where you know logically it shouldn’t matter this much, but emotionally you can’t let it go.
Those aren’t character flaws. Those are breadcrumbs leading you back to old wounds.
Follow them. Figure out what they’re really about.
For me, dinner = daily care = opposite of neglect.
What’s yours?
Maybe it’s phone calls. Maybe it’s physical affection. Maybe it’s words of affirmation. Maybe it’s whether someone shows up on time.
Whatever it is, it’s not really about that thing. It’s about what that thing represents to your nervous system that was built in neglect.
And once you know what it is, you can communicate it to safe people. You can say: “I know this seems like a small thing, but it matters to me more than it logically should. Here’s why.”
The people who love you will get it. They’ll work with you. They’ll understand that your trigger isn’t about them—it’s about what came before them.
Your practice this week:
Notice when you get disproportionately upset about something small. Don’t dismiss it. Don’t call yourself crazy or irrational.
Ask yourself: What is this really about? What deeper wound is this touching?
And if you can identify it, try communicating it to someone safe: “This might not make complete sense, but [small thing] matters to me because it connects to [deeper thing]. I need you to know that.”
You’re allowed to have triggers. You’re allowed to need specific things. You’re allowed to ask for daily evidence that you matter.
Related reading:
It’s not really about the dinner. But the dinner still matters.
With love and light,
A few friendly notes: Client names are always changed to protect privacy. This newsletter may contain affiliate links to products I genuinely love and use myself. While I'm a licensed therapist, this content is for educational purposes and isn't medical advice - think of it as a conversation with a friend who happens to know about mental health. For personalized support, always consult your healthcare provider.