First Time

It strikes, once
Ouch, I think
Hot redness, delicious
Again

It strikes again
Feel pain, my mind says
My body, otherwise
I writhe

It strikes again
Please more, please harder, please
Channeled, a narrowing tunnel
I beg

It strikes again, and again, and again
No breath, no air, no light
Tapered, focused
Release

Don’t talk
Don’t move
Just be
Just hold me

Again

I Remember

I remember a day, many, many years ago when I was sitting in my corner dorm room. It was a sunny Sunday, our row of windows were cracked and I was sitting on the couch, wondering. Actually, I was hoping. The kind of hope that knotted my stomach and made me peek out the window every now and again. I was hoping M would call. I was hoping I might see him pass by my window, not casually on the way somewhere else, but purposefully coming to see me (this was before beepers and cell phones). It was the kind of hope that made me blush at the thought of him knowing how much I hoped. I remember how unfamiliar it felt, maybe even a little uncomfortable, yet exciting and warm. It was welcomed.

As I sit here in my comfy chair on my deck, on the lot on the corner, I’m hoping. M is at work and I’m hoping he’ll call and tell me he’s finished. I keep peeking over my iPad, stomach a little knotted, hoping I’ll see his truck come down the street and pull in front of our house. I’m hoping he’ll come home to me. And, when I see him, I’ll still blush at my excitement. He’ll see our past and my hope for our future in my eyes. I’ll see the same in his. It’s still warm and welcomed. It’s safe and sound. It’s an infinite kind of hope – it’s love.

Wanna Kill the Mood?

I know a sure fire way to kill the mood right away…..drop a full bottle of lube on your husband’s forehead. The sound alone scared the shit out of me. I felt horrible! He handled it like a champ and even made an impressive come back in my opinion. He did wake up this morning with a lump and a killer headache to go along with it. Thank god it hit him on the forehead….I can’t imagine the hospital visit or doctor appointment if it would have landed elsewhere.

It wasn’t funny right away last night, but today we can’t stop laughing. Didn’t I see an advertisement for a 55 gallon drum of lube somewhere on Amazon? Maybe that’s safer……

Slow Down

Sometimes I wonder if I’m striving to attain an expectation of how I feel I should be, how he should be and how we should be. And, if I fall short or I/he/we are different in any way from what’s in my head, that’s when the spinning begins. Then it spirals into fears and insecurity and almost a mourning at a loss of an ideal dynamic that doesn’t even exist. If I’d simply shift my thinking, see what we have for what it is (which is wonderful and happy) and see where we are as where we need to be, the spinning would likely not even begin. If I’d simply trust and truly surrender and stop running from myself. I’m so tired of the running.

M reminds me all the time to stop sprinting. He reminds me that self-discovery and the building of this dynamic will take the pace it’s supposed to take. Part of the problem is that I feel as though I’ve taken a snails pace thus far. I’m 42 and just beginning. We are older and at the start of all this. It’s exciting to be feeling so much freer and happier and it’s so difficult to slow down, instead of trying to sprint to the finish line. I have to keep reminding myself that there is no finish line, because it’s not a race. It’s a journey which has no end. It’s one meant to be savored and nurtured, one that evolves as we travel. I realize how detrimental this spinning and doubting and sprinting is to the both of us.

I want to slow down.

I Will

Recently, I wrote a post called Stop Her, where I described my fear of slipping back into that old, controlling, insecure self. I expressed a hope that he’d see her and stop her if she surfaces. Not long after, I wrote I Need You and described my fear of needing his attention, a lot of it. Of needing his assurance and praise to feel worth and value, to reassure me that he’s right here. My fear was/is that I repeatedly cycle into a place in my head where I doubt him, me, us and spin and spin, until it’s a tangled mess in there.

I still do it. I still try to control by deflecting, I still need assurance. My head still spins. I create this whirling, crazy mess of doubt and worry out of nothing at all. It begins with a single thought, one small insecurity. I find a fault in the way we are doing things. Then, it spirals into some out of control anxiousness that we’ll lose what we have, that we’ll fade away again. Maybe I’ll sabotage it. What if he decides it’s not for us? Maybe our needs are not going to mesh. What if I keep testing and controlling? Maybe he’ll get tired of fighting for us. What if? Maybe? Oh, my god what just happened? Where did I go? What happened to us? I’m lost….we’re lost….

Except I’m not. We’re not. When I stop spinning I see. But, for a while, it’s not at all clear.

I know he’s right here. He’s always been here, supporting me. I have 20 years of proof. Yet, despite his stability and security and sureness, I have this voice of doubt lurking in there. I struggle. I worry and push – I do this by doubting. By refusing to be happy with this dynamic he’s helped create for us. It’s not fair, it’s selfish. He is wonderful, attentive, caring and the most impressive leader. I’m amazed and awed every day.

I’m so tired of cycling and struggling against my own will. I am going to figure out how to slow down this whirling dervish of a brain I have. I will, he’s worth it.

 

Surrender

Is it possible
In the crevices of her mind
This voice she hears
Is one left behind?

Where once she sought absolution
Unknown to her now
The place she kneels
And chooses to bow

It is without walls
A state of being
Offering and penance
Absolutely freeing

Reflection and devotion
Time as her alter
A foundation of trust
Unable to falter

Connectedness, she feels it
Her outlook has changed
It’s everywhere, in all interaction
No longer contained

Quiet, young voice
No guilt and no shame
She’s found her peace
In surrender, not blame

Practice

I imagine myself in M’s shoes all the time. I wonder what it must be like to be given control after so many years of taking the path of least resistance. Of feeling unnoticed or unheard or butting heads. I pretended to be in control for many, many years. He was used to expecting me to be, even counted on me to be. I’m still me and in many ways I am and will always be strong, independent, in control. But, in many ways I never was, it was a facade, and that facade is gone. Some of those feelings that were exposed are unfamiliar and still make me uneasy. At the same time, I was used to him getting out of the way, at some point at least, or pushing until he did. Now, I’m trying to make his path as easy as possible, but I know I get in our way sometimes. M is working out how to balance it all, to figure out his parameters, how to communicate his wants and needs and I know that feels heavy sometimes. I’m finding the same is true for me.

We have had and still have so much unlearning to do as we learn. Getting rid of old habits and ways of doing things that weren’t working. We are doing a fine job and have come so very far in a short amount of time. But, it can be a little overwhelming at times – especially the part where we let go and go with the flow and stop analyzing and trust that we are prepared for whatever the future holds. We stumble. We get hung up on things, sometimes for a while. We even backpedal at times. Sometimes communicating gets very difficult, because it takes time to uncover the root of an issue. This takes patience and talking and honesty and even tears. Sometimes it takes some shutting up. It takes practice, lots of it.

We’ll be over here, practicing.

I’ll Be Here

Me: *making coffee and breakfast*

M: TAS, can you come here?

Me: *goes to him – he’s sitting on the ottoman resting his head in his hands*

M: *hugs me hard, resting his head on my abdomen*

Me: *hugs him right back, stroking his head and hair and back*
You okay?

M: It’s going to be a rough day at work.

Me: I’ll be here (not just right now, or after work, or tomorrow – I’ll always be here).
*kneels in front of him, gives him another hug, a deep kiss and I don’t let go until
he’s ready to let go – I’m in no hurry, not any more*

M rarely used to do this, to be vulnerable like this with me. I think he was fearful of the rejection. Now, he seeks my comfort deliberately when he needs me. I think I might love this the most.