There is a fun appreciation for this shirt in the polyamory circles. In general, we lighthearted dismiss judgement. How can love be wrong?
But this week has been hard. I have been asked some very pointed questions, and sorting out the answers makes my head ache. Still, I want to share my own interpretation...and perhaps gain some understanding.
It almost seems like you are continually seeking something you can not find. What is it that drives you to constantly seek out new personal and intimate relationships? What is it the you truly seek in all these relationships?
In my own ears, it sounds like an excuse, but we are shaped individually by our early experiences. While my childhood was filled with love and attention, I also learned that nothing is forever. My sister was born when I was two and her life was wrought with health issues. I was often in the care of others because my parents were at the hospital with her. My mother's cancer battles began when I was eight. When I was nine, I dealt with gang-rape, but with my mother in a coma and my father consumed with fear and responsibility, I didn't...couldn't...tell anyone. I was alone, despite all of the people around us and helping us. My mom underwent rounds of surgeries, radiation, chemotherapy. It was ugly and scary, and my father was unable to cope alone and with permission, he sought the company of another woman. My mom lost the war when I was fourteen, and she asked me to deal the final strike. I buried my feelings by assuming the "head of household" role, as my father sank into depression and alcoholism. Beloved "rescued" me, inviting me to marry him, when I was nineteen.
Complicated, eh? Lessons...life is fragile and medicine can't always save you; my needs are not a priority when others are in need; it is crucial to have a network of friends because we can't be everywhere at once; seeking the love and comfort of others is okay; sometimes we face nightmares completely alone, despite all the love and support.
My life with Beloved has been blessed. He has fought to overcome the neuroses with the patience and courage of a saint. He has nourished me, and I have flourished with his attention. And yet...soft smile We would talk about other people, but he was the one who ventured into another relationship first. I'm grateful to the woman he choose, as she was very conscientious and respectful of me, as a person and as Beloved's wife. But what's been done can't be undone. Can it?
what are you running from?
What is there NOT to run away from? On the bad days, I am a murderer and a slut. On the good days, I struggle with a sense of self-worth. The deep, intense need for measurable approval and external reassurance is huge. I cannot fathom the reasons that anyone would want me, in part because I am "damaged goods" in many ways. I do not see the value that others see in me. Then there are the situations when I find myself alone in the crowd, despite my attempts to fit in. If I cannot gain entry into the circle with being myself, what else do I have? If my sex is good enough to steal, is it good enough to buy the love and sense of connection to other people? Does that cheapen my relationships? I ache as I write, but the question is there, and running seems like a good option.
Are you afraid planting roots? Would the comfort of established relationships be such a heavy burden to bear? If so, why?
Yes, I am afraid of planting roots, in part because I do not like who I am. I want to be "better" than the image I have of myself. I want to be "good" and "acceptable" in a crowd, and I am not right now. I loathe the idea that this is what will be every day for the rest of my life. I do not want to feel this way about myself.
But little in my experience has taught me comfort in established relationships. Just this summer, members of my family...people who MATTER to ME...announced their rejection of me. What I thought was "established" turned out to be what I wanted to see. I never knew about the jealousy over my educational pursuits, the disapproval of my parenting style. Top that with the immoral poly lifestyle, and the last straw was drawn. Even within my own family, I am now an outsider.
Beloved remains my hero. In our almost seventeen years together, he has not abandoned me or given up on me. There have been a few painful moments, but when I would run, he has held me tight, kept me safe. My love is so strong that it makes me dizzy.
Then the little demon voice comes whispering. What have I done to be worthy? How long until I screw it up? Or have I already screwed it up? Wouldn't it be better if you just disappeared? What will I do if he leaves me? Who will I turn to then?
I have several relationships that I can turn to, but perhaps that is only because I have not revealed my whole. I have many facets, many faces, and maybe if I don't reveal them...maybe if I can find the one face that you like, then you will accept me and take care of me. That cold pit in the stomach grows with each thought.
Am I fooling anybody, or only myself?
Friday, September 30, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Jazz Hands and Drama
I had a good weekend and I'm doing penance for it this week. oiy.
I suppose some of it is my own fault. I haven't been to bed before midnight once this week, largely because I've been having talks with Beloved about hard things. A lack of sleep always makes me edgy.
Add to that, I have been to the gym three times in three days. I am friggin' exhausted! Thank goodness tomorrow is Thursday and I don't have a workout to make!
I'm embarrassed and frustrated that after a decade of non-monogamy, the lifestyle caught up with us. I got a call from the doctor's office about an abnormal Pap for HPV, and they want a follow-up colposcopy. Yea! The bitch of the situation is telling my partners and my partners' partners. I didn't have it in June, I have an abnormal test now with an invasive follow-up. While I've only been with two people, there's no real telling who I got it from, or where he picked it up. So...yeah.
This has created some ripples in other relationships, and I'm feeling pretty miserable about being the cause. It doesn't change anything, but I'm sorry.
Beloved has been poking and prodding into why I have so many relationships. I feel like every time he asks, what I say sounds like an excuse and not a real explanation. Stuart Davis' Female Friend comes to mind, only in reverse. I'm hopeless. Sometimes...*sigh*
I was invited to go camping this weekend with yet another friend whom I'm interested in, but... *sigh* I am going, Beloved has said I can go. The guilt-complex I weave is about leaving him with the kids and potentially exploring another relationship. So, I accept the original "just friends" and we talk, hike, and potentially do some trance/mediation work. Easy. Right?
There's been MAJOR drama in another relationship, but I can't talk about that because really, I'm on the periphery. Beloved's reminded me not to take too much ownership, but it's hard because my friend is hurting so badly. Unfortunately, there is no easy answer.
End summary is that despite having the day child-free, I'm grumpy and tired and edgy. Sleep will (hopefully) go a long way towards sorting some of the stuff out, and the Serenity Prayer will add another layer of peace...
I suppose some of it is my own fault. I haven't been to bed before midnight once this week, largely because I've been having talks with Beloved about hard things. A lack of sleep always makes me edgy.
Add to that, I have been to the gym three times in three days. I am friggin' exhausted! Thank goodness tomorrow is Thursday and I don't have a workout to make!
I'm embarrassed and frustrated that after a decade of non-monogamy, the lifestyle caught up with us. I got a call from the doctor's office about an abnormal Pap for HPV, and they want a follow-up colposcopy. Yea! The bitch of the situation is telling my partners and my partners' partners. I didn't have it in June, I have an abnormal test now with an invasive follow-up. While I've only been with two people, there's no real telling who I got it from, or where he picked it up. So...yeah.
This has created some ripples in other relationships, and I'm feeling pretty miserable about being the cause. It doesn't change anything, but I'm sorry.
Beloved has been poking and prodding into why I have so many relationships. I feel like every time he asks, what I say sounds like an excuse and not a real explanation. Stuart Davis' Female Friend comes to mind, only in reverse. I'm hopeless. Sometimes...*sigh*
I was invited to go camping this weekend with yet another friend whom I'm interested in, but... *sigh* I am going, Beloved has said I can go. The guilt-complex I weave is about leaving him with the kids and potentially exploring another relationship. So, I accept the original "just friends" and we talk, hike, and potentially do some trance/mediation work. Easy. Right?
There's been MAJOR drama in another relationship, but I can't talk about that because really, I'm on the periphery. Beloved's reminded me not to take too much ownership, but it's hard because my friend is hurting so badly. Unfortunately, there is no easy answer.
End summary is that despite having the day child-free, I'm grumpy and tired and edgy. Sleep will (hopefully) go a long way towards sorting some of the stuff out, and the Serenity Prayer will add another layer of peace...
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
What is a submissive?
There is a dynamic and language is rarely good at capturing the depths and nuances.
When we think about D/s relationships, we are influenced, even trapped by the words we use and the images they invoke. In D/s, we usually think 'power exchange' rather than 'partnership'. If instead we consider service as the fundamental basis of a power exchange, the Dominant who receives service and the submissive who provides service are actually co-creators of value FOR the service in question, where the service is the application of skills and knowledge for the benefit of another party.
Someone offered definition of a submissive as one who has chosen to put the needs/wants/desires/wishes of her dominant ahead of her own.
I would edit that slightly.
For ME, a submissive is someone who accepts a role in which personal preferences are set aside to focus on the desire to fulfill the wants/desires/wishes of another. A submissive may wear a collar or sign a contract to signify the dedication to this desire. A submissive serves and submits to the will of another for a scene, an evening, a job, a year, a relationship. A Dominant may well be a submissive when catering to a client's demands or providing a flogging they really aren't interested in. A Dominate may take a submissive role to fulfill the wants/desires/wishes of another person. A submissive exists as a role that we can step in and out of. Outside of the time frame, the individual may or may not be submissive.
When someone is submissive, they have certain traits, personalities, habits that lean towards a sense of joy from service. Thus a masochist who submits to a sadist; a dedicated bootblack; a domestic who takes satisfaction from cleaning the house are all individuals who are submissive. Individuals who are submissive do this because they gain a sense of value and an understanding of self. Submission can also help to build social interaction, participation in the relationship, and expanding skills and knowledge in a particular area.
Thus, I am a submissive submissive, but I can be a dominate (aka, "alpha") submissive as well.
I accept the will of Beloved over my own in our relationship. My desires to please him come before my own preferences. I provide all sorts of services, freeing him from as much of the mundane household responsibilities as possible. I take joy, have a sense of value, and accept the challenge of improving myself in the places he asks.
Sometimes, however, I have to be pretty bossy in order to fulfill Beloved's (and others') needs. I will take ownership of unpleasant tasks. I will step in and provide guidance or organization for a project. I will insist on a doctor's appointment or that a break be taken to eat something. It might not look like a textbook version of D/s, but sometimes my service-submission is greatest when my actions look dominant.
When we think about D/s relationships, we are influenced, even trapped by the words we use and the images they invoke. In D/s, we usually think 'power exchange' rather than 'partnership'. If instead we consider service as the fundamental basis of a power exchange, the Dominant who receives service and the submissive who provides service are actually co-creators of value FOR the service in question, where the service is the application of skills and knowledge for the benefit of another party.
Someone offered definition of a submissive as one who has chosen to put the needs/wants/desires/wishes of her dominant ahead of her own.
I would edit that slightly.
For ME, a submissive is someone who accepts a role in which personal preferences are set aside to focus on the desire to fulfill the wants/desires/wishes of another. A submissive may wear a collar or sign a contract to signify the dedication to this desire. A submissive serves and submits to the will of another for a scene, an evening, a job, a year, a relationship. A Dominant may well be a submissive when catering to a client's demands or providing a flogging they really aren't interested in. A Dominate may take a submissive role to fulfill the wants/desires/wishes of another person. A submissive exists as a role that we can step in and out of. Outside of the time frame, the individual may or may not be submissive.
When someone is submissive, they have certain traits, personalities, habits that lean towards a sense of joy from service. Thus a masochist who submits to a sadist; a dedicated bootblack; a domestic who takes satisfaction from cleaning the house are all individuals who are submissive. Individuals who are submissive do this because they gain a sense of value and an understanding of self. Submission can also help to build social interaction, participation in the relationship, and expanding skills and knowledge in a particular area.
Thus, I am a submissive submissive, but I can be a dominate (aka, "alpha") submissive as well.
I accept the will of Beloved over my own in our relationship. My desires to please him come before my own preferences. I provide all sorts of services, freeing him from as much of the mundane household responsibilities as possible. I take joy, have a sense of value, and accept the challenge of improving myself in the places he asks.
Sometimes, however, I have to be pretty bossy in order to fulfill Beloved's (and others') needs. I will take ownership of unpleasant tasks. I will step in and provide guidance or organization for a project. I will insist on a doctor's appointment or that a break be taken to eat something. It might not look like a textbook version of D/s, but sometimes my service-submission is greatest when my actions look dominant.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Yours and Mine
In the dark, I wait for You. Quiet, pensive, anxious. What do we have left? What will we create? What will we destroy?
Such is our relationship. We each bring hurts and weaknesses, despite our bravo and strength. We feed into each other, drawing out the vulnerabilities, teasing each other to taste the bitterness. Time apart dissolves, meaningless, when we meet again.
From Your bag, you pull a bit of leather and metal. A pittance, perhaps, but the memories are strong. Tears fill my eyes, grateful, joyful, yearning, and You draw the collar about my slender neck, claiming me as Yours, if only for the time that we have.
Two nights, and even that is not entirely alone. But it is what we have, and we explore familiar and fearful spaces. I bring you to your knees simply by asking and You break me in minutes with Your knowledge. We spend hours on the couch, talking, touching.
Departure comes, and we are each reluctant. Will the fears we shared this time haunt us? What infinite changes have we wrought? When will we meet again?
Those answers are only things that time will tell, but one thing is for certain. I may be Yours, but you are equally Mine.
Such is our relationship. We each bring hurts and weaknesses, despite our bravo and strength. We feed into each other, drawing out the vulnerabilities, teasing each other to taste the bitterness. Time apart dissolves, meaningless, when we meet again.
From Your bag, you pull a bit of leather and metal. A pittance, perhaps, but the memories are strong. Tears fill my eyes, grateful, joyful, yearning, and You draw the collar about my slender neck, claiming me as Yours, if only for the time that we have.
Two nights, and even that is not entirely alone. But it is what we have, and we explore familiar and fearful spaces. I bring you to your knees simply by asking and You break me in minutes with Your knowledge. We spend hours on the couch, talking, touching.
Departure comes, and we are each reluctant. Will the fears we shared this time haunt us? What infinite changes have we wrought? When will we meet again?
Those answers are only things that time will tell, but one thing is for certain. I may be Yours, but you are equally Mine.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
How to be a gracious bitch
Jennifer's wedding day was fast approaching. Nothing could dampen her excitement, not even her parent’s nasty divorce. Her mother had found the perfect dress to wear, and she would be the best-dressed mother-of-the-bride ever! A week later, Jennifer was horrified to learn that her father's new young wife had bought the exact same dress as her mother’s! Jennifer asked her father's new wife to exchange it, but she refused. “Absolutely not!” she replied. “I look stunning in this dress, and I'm going to wear it on your wedding day.”
Later, Jennifer told her mother about the conflict and she graciously reassured her, ''Never mind sweetheart. I'll find another dress. After all, it's your special day.'' A few days later, they went shopping, and found another gorgeous dress for her mother. When they stopped for lunch, Jennifer asked her mother, ''Aren't you going to return the other dress? You really don't have another occasion where you could wear it." Her mother just smiled pleasantly and replied, ''Of course I do dear; I'm wearing it to the rehearsal dinner the night BEFORE the wedding.''
Later, Jennifer told her mother about the conflict and she graciously reassured her, ''Never mind sweetheart. I'll find another dress. After all, it's your special day.'' A few days later, they went shopping, and found another gorgeous dress for her mother. When they stopped for lunch, Jennifer asked her mother, ''Aren't you going to return the other dress? You really don't have another occasion where you could wear it." Her mother just smiled pleasantly and replied, ''Of course I do dear; I'm wearing it to the rehearsal dinner the night BEFORE the wedding.''
Friday, September 16, 2011
The Great Pear Experiment (or how I made Hearty Breakfast Pear Stew)
In the abandoned lot behind our house, there is a pear tree. I'm not sure if, in prior years, this tree was stripped early of its fruit or didn't bear fruit, but this year was bountiful. Beloved has been enjoying pears as a treat when he comes home from work, and it is the first place the kids want to go any time we get home from an excursion. Last night was no exception. Walking back to the house with a pear in each hand, Boy declared that he was hungry and wanted pear stew.
O-kay...well, naturally there is Google and there are recipes out there for Stoofperen, pear butter, pears with pork chops, baked pears, all kinds of pear recipes. None of them were quite the thing that I was looking for, nor did I have the ingredients for many of them. Thus, it is nearing midnight and I am stuck on what belongs in a pear stew.
For starters, I want to make it a breakfast thing. I want to have Boy come downstairs in the morning and be able to tell him that I made him pear stew. I want it to be sweet, but have a touch of savory. A good stew has a hearty grain in it. And then, there is the question of "what do I have that needs to be used up?" I pulled out the crock pot, selected a knife, and started opening the cupboards. Here's what I came up with:
Hearty Breakfast Pear Stew
Ingredients:
4 VERY crisp pears, cubed
1/4 butternut squash, peeled and cubed (yet another treat featuring squash from Rain's mother!)
1/2 vidalia onion, diced
1/4 c. steel cut oats
1 pkg bacon, diced (it was a disappointing pack...more fat than meat...after trimming I'd guess about 1 cup of meat went into the pot)
1 1/4 c apple juice
1/3 c honey (gifted to my by Tinman!)
1 tbsp vanilla
1/2 tea cinnamon
1/8 tea clove
Put everything in the crock pot and cook on LOW for 6-8 hours.
I'll let you know the final vote, but MAN it smells good!
O-kay...well, naturally there is Google and there are recipes out there for Stoofperen, pear butter, pears with pork chops, baked pears, all kinds of pear recipes. None of them were quite the thing that I was looking for, nor did I have the ingredients for many of them. Thus, it is nearing midnight and I am stuck on what belongs in a pear stew.
For starters, I want to make it a breakfast thing. I want to have Boy come downstairs in the morning and be able to tell him that I made him pear stew. I want it to be sweet, but have a touch of savory. A good stew has a hearty grain in it. And then, there is the question of "what do I have that needs to be used up?" I pulled out the crock pot, selected a knife, and started opening the cupboards. Here's what I came up with:
Hearty Breakfast Pear Stew
Ingredients:
4 VERY crisp pears, cubed
1/4 butternut squash, peeled and cubed (yet another treat featuring squash from Rain's mother!)
1/2 vidalia onion, diced
1/4 c. steel cut oats
1 pkg bacon, diced (it was a disappointing pack...more fat than meat...after trimming I'd guess about 1 cup of meat went into the pot)
1 1/4 c apple juice
1/3 c honey (gifted to my by Tinman!)
1 tbsp vanilla
1/2 tea cinnamon
1/8 tea clove
Put everything in the crock pot and cook on LOW for 6-8 hours.
I'll let you know the final vote, but MAN it smells good!
Sunday, September 11, 2011
About September 11th...risking outrage
Over the next week or so, the American people are going to gather in various places to pay homage to the events of September 11, 2001. There are candlelit vigils, parades, speaker events. There are articles about the "9/11 kids" (those 10,000 babes born on that day) or just how we should explain the meaning of THAT day to little children.
Me? I say Bah! Humbug!
These memorials and gatherings are surface polish that do not carry any real meaning. I see the list of upcoming events, and I see thousands of people wallowing in self-pity. I see just how much the terrorists WON.
* People remain afraid to fly. Security measures have become such that air ports employ body scanners and parents won't allow children to fly because perverts can get naked pictures of the kids. We end up buying shampoo, toothpaste, and body lotion because we can't bring our own on board. Hell, we can't even bring a factory-sealed bottle of WATER on board.
*People are afraid of immigrants and foreigners. What happened to the Land of Opportunity? Where is the "melting pot"? I have friends who have come to the US of A to learn, and they have shared their difficulties in finding housing because they are from Italy or Canada or Israel and have an accent. I know people who are afraid of visiting ME in my home because there are billboards printed in other languages.
*People are afraid of their neighbors. Every thing we do is on surveillance because we don't trust anyone. The crusade for democracy abroad, largely unsuccessful in its own right, has proven remarkably effective in building a technological template that could be just a few tweaks away from creating a domestic surveillance state -- with omnipresent cameras, deep data-mining, nano-second biometric identification, and drone aircraft patrolling "the homeland."
* People are afraid, and they are reminded often that there is reason to fear. The massacres in Norway, Tucson, AR, Fort Hood, TX, NIU, Virginia Tech, Seattle, WA, Madrid, Spain, London, England, and on and on. We are no safer today than we were ten years ago. Terrorists are adept at finding weak points and exploiting them. And they have succeeded in making us weak through isolation. The terrorists have won. We now live with the understand that there’s a level of danger even here.
So...what are you going to do to "memorialize" the tenth anniversary of 9/11?
If you think parading about with a candle is a great idea, think again. The lives lost on September 11, 2001 and those lost in the wars subsequent to that fateful day are a tragedy. I, too, have lost loved ones and I know that mourning goes on through the rest of your life. However, we do not have to allow the losses to cripple us. Instead of being sad or angry because of what has happened, reach out. I have some ideas for you.
* Plan a picnic in a park with your family.
* Start up a softball game at the corner lot.
* Knock on your neighbor's door and introduce yourself.
* Sign up to take a class about another language, culture, or religion.
* Give blood.
* Go to a museum, cultural center, or tour your neighborhood.
* Organize a creek clean-up.
* Make an old-fashioned apple pie.
* Visit someone in a nursing home and ask them their story.
* Unplug the fricken iPod, phone, computer and connect with an actual person!
These are the things that make a great people! It is our connections and our willingness to be open to each other that makes us strong! If everyone knew the names of every person on their block, how much stronger, how much MORE could we do?
Me? I say Bah! Humbug!
These memorials and gatherings are surface polish that do not carry any real meaning. I see the list of upcoming events, and I see thousands of people wallowing in self-pity. I see just how much the terrorists WON.
* People remain afraid to fly. Security measures have become such that air ports employ body scanners and parents won't allow children to fly because perverts can get naked pictures of the kids. We end up buying shampoo, toothpaste, and body lotion because we can't bring our own on board. Hell, we can't even bring a factory-sealed bottle of WATER on board.
*People are afraid of immigrants and foreigners. What happened to the Land of Opportunity? Where is the "melting pot"? I have friends who have come to the US of A to learn, and they have shared their difficulties in finding housing because they are from Italy or Canada or Israel and have an accent. I know people who are afraid of visiting ME in my home because there are billboards printed in other languages.
*People are afraid of their neighbors. Every thing we do is on surveillance because we don't trust anyone. The crusade for democracy abroad, largely unsuccessful in its own right, has proven remarkably effective in building a technological template that could be just a few tweaks away from creating a domestic surveillance state -- with omnipresent cameras, deep data-mining, nano-second biometric identification, and drone aircraft patrolling "the homeland."
* People are afraid, and they are reminded often that there is reason to fear. The massacres in Norway, Tucson, AR, Fort Hood, TX, NIU, Virginia Tech, Seattle, WA, Madrid, Spain, London, England, and on and on. We are no safer today than we were ten years ago. Terrorists are adept at finding weak points and exploiting them. And they have succeeded in making us weak through isolation. The terrorists have won. We now live with the understand that there’s a level of danger even here.
So...what are you going to do to "memorialize" the tenth anniversary of 9/11?
If you think parading about with a candle is a great idea, think again. The lives lost on September 11, 2001 and those lost in the wars subsequent to that fateful day are a tragedy. I, too, have lost loved ones and I know that mourning goes on through the rest of your life. However, we do not have to allow the losses to cripple us. Instead of being sad or angry because of what has happened, reach out. I have some ideas for you.
* Plan a picnic in a park with your family.
* Start up a softball game at the corner lot.
* Knock on your neighbor's door and introduce yourself.
* Sign up to take a class about another language, culture, or religion.
* Give blood.
* Go to a museum, cultural center, or tour your neighborhood.
* Organize a creek clean-up.
* Make an old-fashioned apple pie.
* Visit someone in a nursing home and ask them their story.
* Unplug the fricken iPod, phone, computer and connect with an actual person!
These are the things that make a great people! It is our connections and our willingness to be open to each other that makes us strong! If everyone knew the names of every person on their block, how much stronger, how much MORE could we do?
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Season of change...I hope...
It's late, so I'm probably not thinking clearly. Plus I have a headache. But I can't sleep, so here I am, zoning into the computer and writing to you.
It has been a bitch of a summer. Battling depression in the brutal heat is much worse than it is in the winter. In the winter, you can burrow under the blankets and hide. In the summer, you don't even have THAT small comfort. wry smile I tried, and overheating drove me here to try again to sort out my life. Maybe when I'm done, I will fold laundry and take out the trash.
There's no space between my thoughts to THINK, let alone gain a handle on what needs to be done next. I have been putting one foot in front of the other, head bowed, trying to get through the day. I *hate* being here, but I am afraid to stop because if I do, I might drown. It's like quicksand...it's hard NOT to struggle against it. With nothing being clear, it is so damnably easy to point at others for their lack of clarity. When there is no established plan, it is too easy to lay blame for changing the plan.
Tonight, I fought with Beloved this evening, complete with raised voices and harsh words. It's been building for a while, and we are both at fault. I want to be so much MORE than I am...than I have been. Where I normally feel compersion, I have been feeling tired and irritable. I told him earlier that I felt like Mrs. Cratchit, and I meant it. He works too hard for too little recognition. It makes me bitter about his work, my lack of work, the state of the house, the overwhelmed days with the kids, and the time that is spent with Rain, which is now confined to visits every couple of weeks. And I lashed out, claws outstretched, and swiped at Beloved, at ShadoKnight, at Rain. I feel bad for it and I apologized but it hasn't changed the confusion and frustration I feel inside.
"You try to find yourself in the abstractions of religion and the cruelty of everyone else. And you wake up to realize your standard of living somehow got stuck on survive...When you're standing in deep water and you're bailing yourself out with a straw..." ~Jewel
I am tired of being told that I'm worth it, or that it's good to be of service because it is hollow to me. I do not feel worthy and I want to regain my confidence and drive to make others happy and comfortable. But I don't know where to strike the balance. I want to please, but I want to remain sane. I want to serve without feeling used. I want to be both strong and vulnerable...but...
but...
sigh Does any of it make any sense? I doubt it. So much is in my own head, viewed through a kaleidoscope of emotion and mood. I trust in the bit of therapy of random association and free thought. And I rely on time. Healing time.
"this strange season of pain will come to pass when the healing hands of autumn cool me down" ~ Indigo Girls
Storms swept through this afternoon, and it is a soothing 68F. The frogs and crickets are singing their hearts out and the house is quiet. Blissfully quiet. I should sleep...but I am loathe to miss the opportunity to be alone. To dance, because at the moment nobody is watching, and maybe I will remember the steps...and maybe...just maybe...I'll remember them in the morning, too.
It has been a bitch of a summer. Battling depression in the brutal heat is much worse than it is in the winter. In the winter, you can burrow under the blankets and hide. In the summer, you don't even have THAT small comfort. wry smile I tried, and overheating drove me here to try again to sort out my life. Maybe when I'm done, I will fold laundry and take out the trash.
There's no space between my thoughts to THINK, let alone gain a handle on what needs to be done next. I have been putting one foot in front of the other, head bowed, trying to get through the day. I *hate* being here, but I am afraid to stop because if I do, I might drown. It's like quicksand...it's hard NOT to struggle against it. With nothing being clear, it is so damnably easy to point at others for their lack of clarity. When there is no established plan, it is too easy to lay blame for changing the plan.
Tonight, I fought with Beloved this evening, complete with raised voices and harsh words. It's been building for a while, and we are both at fault. I want to be so much MORE than I am...than I have been. Where I normally feel compersion, I have been feeling tired and irritable. I told him earlier that I felt like Mrs. Cratchit, and I meant it. He works too hard for too little recognition. It makes me bitter about his work, my lack of work, the state of the house, the overwhelmed days with the kids, and the time that is spent with Rain, which is now confined to visits every couple of weeks. And I lashed out, claws outstretched, and swiped at Beloved, at ShadoKnight, at Rain. I feel bad for it and I apologized but it hasn't changed the confusion and frustration I feel inside.
"You try to find yourself in the abstractions of religion and the cruelty of everyone else. And you wake up to realize your standard of living somehow got stuck on survive...When you're standing in deep water and you're bailing yourself out with a straw..." ~Jewel
I am tired of being told that I'm worth it, or that it's good to be of service because it is hollow to me. I do not feel worthy and I want to regain my confidence and drive to make others happy and comfortable. But I don't know where to strike the balance. I want to please, but I want to remain sane. I want to serve without feeling used. I want to be both strong and vulnerable...but...
but...
sigh Does any of it make any sense? I doubt it. So much is in my own head, viewed through a kaleidoscope of emotion and mood. I trust in the bit of therapy of random association and free thought. And I rely on time. Healing time.
"this strange season of pain will come to pass when the healing hands of autumn cool me down" ~ Indigo Girls
Storms swept through this afternoon, and it is a soothing 68F. The frogs and crickets are singing their hearts out and the house is quiet. Blissfully quiet. I should sleep...but I am loathe to miss the opportunity to be alone. To dance, because at the moment nobody is watching, and maybe I will remember the steps...and maybe...just maybe...I'll remember them in the morning, too.
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