Big, big changes...

I know it's been a long time. I'm rethinking my life, what I need in it and what I need out of it. DH and I decided to stop the hotwifing activity. I haven't told HIM yet, he's still deployed but returning in a few weeks. There are so many, many reasons. I don't want my daughter to emulate me in this, for one. And she's noticing EVERYTHING now. If I come home with a different smell on me, or a bruise or just sadder than normal, she'll react. I would hate to see her do this to herself in the future. Another reason is because I am a human female, meaning I get attached. Sex is glue, and I found myself getting jealous over his past lovers. Big red light to me that I need to stop. I realized this was a pattern repeating itself. The time he called me his "slut" reverberates in my head and I realize that I desire NOT to be treated like anyone's slut anymore. I try not to be ashamed of my sexuality, but this one instance causes me upset. I also think I'm coming out of denial about who he really is. He's a messed up guy, and his heart is frozen solid, and if in the tiniest crevice of my mind, I was hoping he'd fall in love with me, I don't anymore. He's so young, so set in his ways, and views sex as a pornographic affair. That's always been a difference between us: I see sex as intimacy, even hotwife sex, and he wants to live out porn. I think I've done enough. And to top it off, I find run-of-the-mill porn distasteful. Always have.

The thought of sleeping with him again is appealing, but leaving and driving away and crying my heart out because I feel used up and spit out is NOT. Then waiting to hear from him, just a word, aching to hear that I'm not just another slut in his list of 12...

Wanting him so badly that I did STUPID, absolutely MORONIC things like unprotected sex when I know he has an STD; wanting him inside me when I knew I was fertile--anything to capture him, I even wanted his baby (idiotic idea) for a time. I let him have anal sex with me despite the risks. I am scared of how insane I got and I don't really want to lose control like that again.

I'm going to crave him and miss him, yes. One good thing is that I'm on a medication now that dulls my sex drive to barely a whisper. I don't NEED it right now, so I have bought myself some time to get used to the new reality. I don't think dh and I will ever have a vibrant sex life--we haven't had intercourse since the little one was born, and even months before that (she's almost one and a half now), and I will learn how to cope somehow. Who knows what the future will bring. I'm letting myself gain some weight, eat comfortingly, and be the plump little spouse dh is happy with. We'll see what happens from here.

Learned desperation

Now I know where I learned to use desperation and contradiction in my personal relationships. Of course. My father. He modeled these behaviors quite vividly, and I picked them up, him being my father and role model when I was a child. I realized just now that I enter the same panic mode when being ignored that he does. Only his acting out field is with his eldest daughter, while mine is with lovers. Definitely food for thought.

I say this because his correspondence is becoming more frequent now--I am sensing the panic--he jumps from angry to fearful and back again. The last correspondence that I talked about was the box of old memories he was "getting rid of." Well, yesterday, came a Hallmark card. Presumably for Mother's Day (I don't even open letters these days). That was less than two weeks between correspondences. He tried the disowning tactic, then the anger and guilt, then the "go around me to get to my daughter" tactic, and now, something different, I am assuming. It reminds me of my childhood a lot. Anger, silence, ignoring, then love and affection through different venues. This echos of the same thing but through other media.

I couldn't ignore him before, obviously, as I was living under his roof, but now, I am free to do so. And the more I ignore, the more correspondence he's sending, the more panicked he's getting, the more "clingy" he's becoming. His major mistake here was assuming that I care now. I did care, desperately, before, and was constantly being crushed by his demands--holding his affection hostage until I did what he wanted. Now, though, he can hold back, threaten, guilt, etc as much as he wants and I'm not listening. I don't need to. But I am observing his actions, and they remind me of what I have been doing in my sex life. This would be the arena in which I play out this drama, not surprisingly, given the covert incest. There's the connection I've been trying to make all this time.

My behavior toward my lover has been reward-based, angry at times, and trying to arouse guilt to get what I want. He completely ignores all of it : )  Which I love, deep down, because it forces me to look at my actions and grow up. With my "soul twin," my actions were so much worse--the same things, but amplified. I would throw "tantrums," threaten to abandon him if he didn't act the way I wanted him to, claim that I was the best friend he'd ever have, be there for him so much I humiliated myself, then become resentful...and then repeat the cycle over and OVER and OVER. He also was like this. Get two people with the same dysfunctional behaviors together and you have the perfect storm.

Dad and I were the perfect storm until I got the courage to let go. I miss having a dad in my life, but every time he acts out, I remember what my ragged body and mind went through all those years, and I don't miss this particular dad THAT much.

The same goes for my soul twin. I'll always be grateful for the experience, and ironically, I'm attending the same therapy retreat this weekend as I did when I was struggling with him a few years back. It will be so different this time--my focus is now on being the mother I need to be and all that goes along with it. It will be intense, but different intense, and I am looking forward to it.

Freedom of speech applies to all except me...

My mother clearly doesn't understand Internet support. She still gets angry when she asks me WHY I wrote personal thoughts on the Internet, referring to the blog that the rest of the family "discovered." My answer to her is support. And being heard. To be open and honest about what happened to me and the consequences and struggles I now deal with as a result, and to connect with like-minded people. She said she doesn't want to read what I wrote and she doesn't want to know what was in my writings. And that's perfectly fine, and that place is no longer available. THIS is where I seek support now.

My response to her insinuated opinion that this was my fault to begin with is that people have choices--the family members chose to read my postings. And they felt their own reactions in response to their decision. My blog was to help me in recovery. Just as this blog is. I write honestly, with no holds bared, and whoever decides to read it is making a CHOICE. If they are offended or upset by what I say, then they must accept that as a consequence of their decision.

This is the concept of free speech that Americans hold dear. But the concept isn't supposed to apply to me for some reason.

I gave away the family secrets that no one wants to believe or accept. And that is unacceptable to them. So be it.

My therapist encourages me to blog. And continue, I will.

As for my biological father, the reason I give away his gifts to my daughter is that he stated, IN HIS OWN WORDS, that he wanted nothing to do with her and that she will miss out on having him in her life. I won't have my daughter used as a pawn and be played around with. Since he's disowned her, he must live up to his action and not play ANY role in her life.

Quick post

Facebook. A wonderful connecting resource, but at the same time, so much more information than a person may want to know!

The only way I can keep in touch with lover is through Facebook. I really don't want to know too much, I start getting jealous and uncomfortable. There's a woman there, her photo is very sexy. I will bet she's one of his women. I don't know if he still sees anyone from that time on the sex site but I really don't want to know. My stomach really hurts when I look to see how he's doing.
Well, stop looking, right? I'm trying. Oh my goodness, though, if he's had her why is he sleeping with me? I'm nothing, really I'm nothing. Compared to these sexy, long legged beauties I'm a lump of clay. I feel sick.
I had this feeling with my soul twin, too. One particular woman who I felt in extreme competition with. She posted a mostly naked photo of herself there and he wrote a response- something like "who is missing in this photo." It killed me. I think I decided to block him after that.
Oh but now I'm older and my body isn't the way it used to be. Old and used and in my depressed moods, I think about just disappearing. Its going to end and Im frightened. God, he only just turned 30!!! I'm so scared and I'm can't quite place my finger on it...

Better...

I'm doing better. Not sure quite what happened- something clicked in my head, partially caused by new development in my daughter. She's suddenly becoming communicative! She actually calls me "mommie"!!! Oh my goodness, something about that woke me up, this child (no longer a baby) needs me! She wants my arms around her at night, she loves cuddling, she depends on me. She woke me up last night by tapping on my shoulder and saying "mommie--ba!" (translation: I want a bottle). And smiled at me. My GOD, this is a sentient being!!! She speaks to me! She asks for what she wants! WOW! I never thought I would have a two-way relationship with this being; it's been all exhausting care taking up until now. I'm absolutely stunned.

I think for the first time in my life, I feel like I am crucial in someone's life. First time. Husbands can eventually divorce you. Lovers get bored. Parents and siblings hurt and desert you. Friends, they come and go. And maybe my daughter will too someday, but we have a relationship now. Right now. I love our nights. We cuddle all night. She drapes herself across me. She kisses my stomach. She pulls my hair and ears and pinches my nose and we laugh and laugh! She is the reason I am working to get better now. Taking my meds, going to a therapy program soon, and working things out. I haven't touched the whiskey in three, maybe four days now. I don't want to do that to her.

It's too much

I can't concentrate. The depression is very bad. I am doing my best for my daughter, but sometimes I just can't take it. I never imagined raising a child would be so hard; I'm not cut out for it. I would say this is still ppd, but it's been over 14 months now.

No, this is me. Never happy no matter what; even if I get everything I want. When my lover was here, I could disassociate with him; now I have nothing to disappear into. Just me getting sick, little one getting sick, watching my husband be energized and happy. I feel very much on the outside, locked in a glass cage. Sometimes I want to howl with my little one, when she screams, I want to do it, too. I want someone to take care of ME. I'm so exhausted, in every single way. I haven't been able to lose the weight from my pregnancy, I can barely move at the end of each day. My hormones are still a wreck; I have the hunger of pregnancy but I'm NOT! I don't understand what's going on.

I need to say to someone that I have started drinking a little. Sometimes my nerves are so shot, when the fussiness won't stop, when I'm alone with my daughter and I am depressed. I drink whiskey or rum. A swig or two, just enough to put a damper on the despair. I did last night. I did a few nights before. I need to talk to someone, I'm hurting inside, like a sword stabbing me in the the stomach over and over again. I'm back on the seroquel for sleep and anxiety, and I'm afraid I might end up doing something.

I don't understand--everything seems to be going fine. I mean, my daughter is healthy and well-adjusted and on track in every way. My career is going fine, I'm very involved in my other "career" and am doing fantastic things. I have plans for going to New York for a conference next month, then a beach vacation in June, then London in the fall.

So I just don't understand why I want to drive my car into an electric pole. I am fighting the urge physically to do this whenever I'm behind the wheel. I have to be constantly vigilant. And when I discovered whiskey about a month ago, I was so relieved. Finally, something to dull the pain. I do when my husband's around and he doesn't even notice. He's so entranced with my daughter, he doesn't notice much.

When my lover is here, I feel wanted. It gives me a reason to look forward to time. Right now, I can only see the endless routine of the days. Little sleep, little food (and I don't lose weight!!), exhaustion by 4PM, then I have the hardest part of my day ahead of me. It goes on for hours. Any time by myself is spent fretting about the lack of time. Piles and piles of laundry and dishes and bottles and spilled food. I am so tired, and this is not going to end, not for a long, long time.

Spot on...and lasting gifts from my soul twin

I was absolutely right. The box was filled with papers that I had collected during my teenage years. I had forgotten about all this in any case, and really, I'm just going to toss it all because it is meaningless now. The insult that my father had intended hurt a bit last night, but I feel so much better today. I can picture him crying while he packed the box, acting like I'm dead. Then being angry and threatening me through the airwaves. There was a letter from him, but I ripped it up. I have no wish to engage. Now, THAT'S something completely different.

Funny, all these papers were from my Jewish youth group years. And now that I've been baptized, and I feel so differently, they simply don't mean anything to me. I mean, I remember that time fondly, the friends I made, the closeness I felt toward them, but the Jewishness was never part of my heart. God WAS, but the Jewishness was on the surface. Not at all how I feel about being a Christian.

It's mind-blowing sometimes; I keep thinking about the process of conversion and it had everything to do with my soul twin, the soul who I love and hate at the same time, but who will always be part of me. And he also, on a more earthly plain, came up with the name for my blog (not this one), which is now a vibrant community on a specific topic. It has been thriving lately and I have purchased the domain name. And the title is apt and creative and is a perfect mesh of him and me. He is a fanciful, imaginative man, and I honor that part of him.  Both of these things are like a living piece of him that makes me happy and fills a void in my life. He may be gone, but his soul is still at work with me, and probably always will be.

The assault continues...

And the assault continues. Yesterday, I found a huge package on my doorstep, FedEx. I assumed it was just the monthly shipment of diapers and wipes, and I left it outside. This morning, however, I flipped it over and glanced at the return address. My father. And this one was addressed to me. I was, frankly, stunned. I mean, what the hell? What the HELL is going on?? Dh has a theory--that he expected me to come running back after a while, all full of apologies, ready to give in and offer to give myself away yet again. And I haven't. It's been over a year, and I haven't budged. I have stuck to my principles and self-worth, and it's driving him crazy....hence the assault, comprised of trying to insult me through gifts to my daughter, ad nauseaum. And now this.

I believe he's right. I don't know what's in that box, and I don't want to touch it. The thought just occurred to me that it might be anything of mine from my childhood that remains in his condo, just to let me know how furious he is with me. I'm going to let DH open that box. If I'm indeed right, fine. If not, I want him to give whatever it is to charity. Our porch storage closet is packed with gifts he has sent to my daughter, just waiting to go to Goodwill. She has enough toys and clothes from people who LOVE her. We are well off, we can afford to buy her toys and books and clothes and we need NOTHING from him. I've waited all my life to get to the point when I can announce that I don't need his money. I DON'T NEED HIS MONEY. EVER. AGAIN.

Fuck you, dad.

And for anyone else who thinks I'm not strong enough to hold out and value my self-worth, fuck you, too.

I have all the protection I need. A husband who would fiercely defend me to the death, emotionally and proudly, and has been military-trained.  And a lover, military-trained, technically proficient, and a Tai Kwan Do black belt. My daughter and I will be JUST fine.  

Rough ride

It's been a while since I've posted. I've been through a pretty rough ride, what with depression rearing its ugly head again. Sometime I feel such a desperate sense of hopelessness and being "blocked in" by life. I should be so thrilled being a mother, but I am not finding the joy I had hoped. I don't have a natural sense of playfulness and I simply want to be alone sometimes. I'm not a bad person for feeling this way; I suspect this is part of the depression disease that I inherited.

On a positive note, I am not acting helpless about the depression, which would be my normal modus operandi. I am trying to be as proactive as I can, with my husband's urging. I am signed up for another intensive weekend-long therapy retreat in May. Thank goodness. I've been a long time out of therapy, but I am still involved, if you know what I mean. Also, I finally found a church I can live with. I attended last Sunday and it felt better. I felt relieved and refreshed for the first time in a long time. The church's motto is "church for people who don't do church" lol, the perfect hook for reeling me in. It reminds me a lot of my last church, but it is quite different. I'm not sure I'll ever find another pastor as radical as my last one, and it was his uniqueness that drew me in. But I've grown up since then, and I can handle a pastor who is a little more conservative now.

So, between an upcoming therapy retreat and a new church, I'm doing much better. I'm also doing well in my career, have been asked for another interview, am busy as a bee and absolutely love it.

My lover seems to be doing well, too. I saw a photo of him the other day and he actually looks healthier and heartier being deployed than he did at home. I have thought a lot about his lifestyle and have come to the conclusion that it probably isn't the best for him, but he will take himself out of it when he's ready. Living alone in a townhouse, dark brown curtains over the windows, hanging out on the internet much of the time...I know he's got a porn addiction problem, as he has admitted as much to me. Overseas, he's always with people and can't hole up in his den like he does at home. He looks happier and livelier. I don't know if our association is such a good thing for him...I haven't looked at it this way before. I know it's been what he's wanted, but is it healthy for HIM? I have to admit, it probably isn't. And as much as I dread him letting go and moving on, I'm watching and waiting to see what would be best for him. I really do care, deeply.

Healing dream

My lover has arrived safely and is fine. I am hugging his correspondence- like a precious secret- to myself, a sunny place to bask in when it is dark. I love how he began: "Hey, gorgeous"...how often does any one say THAT to me? He thinks about me, he's planning for our reunion in a few months..."just you and me, together all night..."  He makes me crave him, just from words alone. Just thinking about him. Such a beacon of light. Still so humble, still doesn't discuss much, but lets our experiences lie between us, unspoken but magnificently potent.

I had a dream last night that healed me in yet another way. Let me backtrack first. The last time I saw him, we accomplished a "forbidden" act. One that another man I had seen before constantly fantasized about, and what I referred to as the "anal rape." My lover was determined to "cure" me of that trauma, for some reason. I don't understand the appeal, honestly. To any man. I just don't understand the appeal. Anyway, he went slowly with me, cautiously, lovingly, consciously. I went along with it because I knew he wanted to try to heal my fear, although I didn't think I could be "cured"; I was so offended by the whole past episode and have a sharp memory of the pain. But last time, he accomplished the impossible. I felt no pain, and after that, had no fear, and experienced pure pleasure. I feel as if I've been set free, the negative memory subsumed by the pleasurable one.

So, last night I dreamt that I had been set free. That I was able to let go of a man I once lusted over, for years. In the dream, this man and I were intimate, and we knew we were only interested in each other for sex. We finally admitted it out loud. I touched him and kissed his cheek and gave him over to another woman, who took him away, out of sight. I knew that they were copulating and I was quite sad, but also relieved and and felt free as a bird. I didn't need him any longer, I was no longer tethered to him like an iron anchor. I set him free, and thus, I set myself free. And while doing this, giving me the strength and courage in the background, as a mirage, as memory, was my lover. The man in the dream (who is a real person) has the same first name as my lover. I can say the name again with a smile on my face, with no sadness or melancholy.

As my therapist and certain friends have agreed, my healing and recovery seems to occur mostly on the sexual level. For whatever reason. I am sure I am not the only person who experiences recovery this way, but for now I feel I am, as I know of no one else.

Beautiful

My husband said out of the blue this morning "I was thinking about all this fighting with your family...You are worth fighting for."

Oh my. Let the waterworks begin!

Full of fear

Alright, it's 3 am and I'm wide awake, having what feels like an anxiety attack. I had a terrible dream that my child was dying. That my husband was the one to be watching over her and reporting to me that she looked terrible. The dream was painful in both that she was dying and that my husband was the one who was closest to her. That part is realistic at least. She adores her daddy and sometimes will only let him pick her up--she will smile at me from his arms, but only there.

He's so obsessed with her. I love that he is so happy and that he is such an amazing father. Sometimes, I still feel sad and lonely though.

I had a horribly disturbing dream a few weeks ago, a fear-based dream that he was sexually stimulated by her. I immediately associated that fear with my past, no question. I still can't get the image out of my head, but I won't describe it here. I'm not sure I could say it in words in any case.

Then, I haven't heard from my lover in, what, two days, and I started panicking that something's happened to him already...I know it's foolish. I am full of fear right now.

Finally, this may sound trivial, but I got triggered today when I gave my boss dates that I want to take off this summer and fall. His response was to say "almost no." There are two plans I had, the first in years, that I really want to do. One is a family vacation to the beach. Our first ever with our daughter. The second is the professional conference in London in the fall, which is so important to me and has kept me going through the depression and difficulty of the past two years. I think I got so triggered because I actually ASKED for something, which I never do. I never feel I am worthy enough to ask for anything, except physical necessity (for example, when I was pregnant). And a no like this hits me in the gut, and reminds me of my worthlessness. Not to mention that I have given this job my all, my everything, even putting my pregnancy at risk. My boss just happens to be a narcissist--how do I attract these people in my life?? It hurts and I'm not completely clear why.

Oh, and add to that my father's manipulative ploy today. The more I think about it, the furious I become. 

It's all enough to prevent desperately needed sleep and give me a throbbing headache.

Back to adventures with a narcissistic father...

I haven't written about the dysfunctional "stuff" for a while because all has been calm on that front. But today, yet ANOTHER package arrived in the mail, for my daughter, from my "N" father. This time, it was simply a Passover alphabet book. No card, nothing. This is infuriating for two reasons: 1) he is still sending her things when he said he wanted nothing to do with her; and 2) he knows I have been baptized and my family is no longer a Jewish one. Therefore, my conclusion must be that he is trying to manipulate once again. It just comes out of the blue, as usual. And I almost fell for the ploy... hook, line, and sinker. Came so close to responding, but my husband stopped me, thank goodness. He's just trying to get a rise out of me, as my thoughtful husband said. When I stopped being so angry and reactive, I realized he was absolutely right. As we've concluded before, the worst hell for a narcissist is to be ignored. So they create drama. Smart husband. Damn smart.

My daughter, almost 14 months now!!, is absolutely thriving. She is HAPPY like I've never seen happy. Loved like I've never seen loved! And is so cute and funny that I am laughing more now than I ever have. She's BEAUTIFUL--a little Irish elf, we call her. Our little Irish elf, for her auburn hair and bright blue eyes and fair complexion. As I've said in wonderment before, umm, where did she come from??? I'm a dark little pixie, a mix of Russian and Mediterranean features... but I gave birth to her, so I know she's mine. LOL DH, though, she's him through and through. His perfect daughter. It's lovely to see them both so happy. It makes my heart melt.

I refuse to let my father manipulate his way into our lives. I have shielded my little girl and it's done wonders. I am a mother tiger, I will never allow anyone to tamper with  my little one. 

Letters from the battlefield

I was right.

And even more, I woke up at midnight and as usual whenever I wake up in the middle of the night, check my email, out of habit. There was a message from him. From the middle of nowhere, half way around the world, telling me that he wanted me, but not in the usual way--much more sensual and possessive than normal. It sounded to me almost like a letter from a soldier at war to his lover, in any war in history. A lonely, anxious soldier reaching out for female comfort back home. It's funny, but I always dreamed of this; I always wanted to be some war-fighting soldier's woman back home who he writes to in order to keep his spirits up. And since he is a bachelor, but seems to feel that same need, it is me. It's yet another fantasy he's made real without even knowing it.

I'm now convinced that he expresses most of his emotions through the need for sex. He has different sexual moods--sometimes for "plain vanilla" sex, sometimes romantic lovemaking behavior, or dom behavior, or experimental behavior, or "klingon" behavior (as I affectionately call it), or kinky behavior...so many different sides to him. I feel he is communicating his feelings to me through sex. And almost each time I've seen him, I say that I have no words, but my body will express everything. That's what makes this so wonderful. Words are shallow compared to the communication of the body.

Another lovers story

I must write about this to get it out of my head. I thought my lover had already deployed, but all week I've been checking in and he's still been here. Yesterday afternoon, I ended up with a free hour completely alone, such a rarity these days, so I checked in. He was there and we chatted a bit; eventually things got very heated as usual, but he then he typed "call me." What's the big deal? Well, we had set this as another limit- no phone calls. He was always very careful about not asking for too much, really, not asking for much at all, given my situation, but lately, he's been showing more of his desirous self, wanting more, not playing it quite so nonchalantly. He's never asked me to call him before, and he's never called. I just smiled to myself and picked up the phone. He waited four rings to answer, always the tease. And when I heard his voice, only maybe the fifth time in my life, I melted.

His voice is deep and commanding, controlled, and to me, very sensual. He has such power over me, sexually, and he knows it. He told me what to do and I did; I imagined him there with me and listened to his voice. He called me "lover," which I absolutely adore. It was almost as good as being with him in person, almost. At times, I would become overwhelmed, and he knew just what to do, just like when we're together. "Close your eyes, breathe with me...in....out..." We breathed together over the phone until I calmed down and the tears stopped. We both satisfied our cravings, with encouragement from the other. Afterward, I lay on my bed, he lay in his, and we just smiled into the phone in silence. Peaceful. I felt his ghostly touch...wrapping his arms around me, lacing his fingers through mine, and falling asleep together until desire woke us up again. This ritual was palpable over the phone. And it was me this time who said "I'm afraid I have to go" when my hour was up. He sounded almost regretful but understanding. "Go do what you have to do. We'll talk later." And I've been checking since, and he is not there. He said something about having to stay up all night last night...I think he's left. And if I'm correct, this is why he broached the final boundary. This was his way of saying goodbye, without saying the word.

I could be wrong. We shall see. All I know is that he's stopped asking if I have permission to see him. He never mentions my husband any more. And tells me such things, such as in this conversation:

me: ...and he still respects her in the morning?
him: of course, he respects her the entire time. she is courageous, fearless, uninhibited, willing to endure a lot in exchange for her pleasure.
me: she feels the same way...and safe to be her ***** self, no judgment.
him: never. she can explore in safety, be nurtured, be nourished by her lover...

Marriage and camping???

Well, dh came home early last night and admitted to me that he does like that schedule...I don't know if it will stick, but at least he realized that evening family time is a good thing. We have such a long way to go, but, when I first met him, I knew we would make it through trials. And how did I know that? We went camping : )  Let me tell you, if a newly dating couple (given they don't love camping in the first place) can make it through a camping trip, they can make it through anything. We worked so well together, putting up the tent, organizing, cooking, managing not to fight...and so it is. Marriage is like a LONG camping trip, and we've had our fair share of mosquito-filled nights, leaks in the tent, and skunks passing by...

...and the thing is, you can't camp with just anyone. Just like you can't spend twenty years sharing a life and a home with just anyone. Pick the wrong person and you'll drive each other crazy.

POTF's latest album is PURE GOLD!

All of the Poets of the Fall’s songs give me visions, dreams, whether happy or sad or just for a cool daydream. These reasons are what makes this band so very special to me. Having music around me in my life has been and is very important to me, but having a band actually give me everything I look for in music, is so rare and unusual. The Poets of The Fall do that for me, and for that, I will be always grateful. Not only do I relate to the lyrics (Marko, you are amazing!), but the music (Olli, you are the guitar god, and Captain the keyboard master!) is the perfect match, and the mixing, well, it’s done by the best (cowboy hat off to Captain )."

This is from a review of Poet's latest album, Temple of Thought by  The Tightrope Walker. I am simply blown away and it is such a melding of emotion that I can barely contain myself. Except the final song, just plain fun...

The reviewer's comment on one particular song...oh, this is so powerful to me, I was in tears all day after listening to the song. It has particular relevance for my future, I am acutely aware.

Cradled in Love:
This song is the featured ballad on this album, the first single and the first song made into a video. I love the lyrics, and I see this being sung by one who is leaving, to a former lover, comforting her and convincing her it will be all right, so they can both move on an remember what their love was like, and how she can find it again.
This stanza tells me even though this was not an easy relationship, each person found something he or she needed in it at the time, but that time has passed. The best way to move on is to have the great memories, and know, in her heart, and in his, this love will live on and bring something new to another love.
We took a gamble with this love, like sailing to the storm.
With the waves rushing over to take us, we were battling against the tide.
You were my beacon of salvation. I was your starlight.
It’s sad, although I have read interviews with Marko, and his thoughts on this song is one of comfort and some joy. This sentence, “Do I even dare to speak your name for fear it sounds like, like a lover?”, sounds like the person leaving is distancing himself from the former love by taking over the role of comforting friend. This song reminds me of “No End, No Beginning,” from Alchemy Vol.1, the album released prior to Temple of Thought, and there is not a connection, it gives me the same feeling.

This album, in my opinion is deeper than anything they have previously released. What do you think? You can download it on the itunes store or from Poet's website at  POTF website. I'd love to hear thoughts about this album and write more about it in future.
 

Time to turn focus...

Well, it hurts, mai oui. He's off, I think.

It's time to turn my focus. I've let things get out of control in my home life. My husband and I have been essentially been living separate lives, opposite schedules, taking our daughter on each of them with us. It's time to reorganize, change some things. The final straw occurred last night when dh started making dinner at 9pm and I was trying to settle our daughter in for the night. What kind of a family is this, when the father doesn't get home until 8, no family meal, no family time. Then I disappear and rush around getting everything ready for bed and the next morning. Read books, bottle, sleep. That's it. We rarely spend time alone together, and lately it's been arguing, and when we used to, we always talked of her. Our marriage is degrading. And no, it's not because of this other "thing" I have going.

Ever since, well, for a long time now, I have felt like the breeding mare--I felt he just wanted a baby and now he's so thrilled and obsessed with her that I don't matter any more. He went away on this business trip and when he returned, rushed straight for her. I couldn't help being upset. Ever since the moment she was born, she's become his first priority. Even in the hospital as I was undergoing two blood transfusions after my surgery. He adores her, I understand that. I think my life has irrevocably changed in so many ways and the two of us need to talk about this and make some changes. I want a happy fulfilling marriage and a functional (as opposed to "dysfunctional") family. I have worked hard in the past to ensure that, as I've described already, and I want to fight for it.

The depression has been intense lately, with everything combined. I am not sure how to fight this right now.

Artymove

"Let us get a life, you and I. Get a job, a house, some kids...get a car, boat, I'm getting rich..."

I'm pretty sure these lyrics were meant to be sarcastic. The American dream. How dull.

I was handed another disk of incredible music this morning--this work colleague is a steady source of new addictive European music. This is a great song- a great group, called Artymove, from Sweden.  Versatile-this is a jazzy song, but some have an ambient feel, some hip hop, soul...you get the idea. Sit back and enjoy.

My lover is leaving tomorrow, I believe. He can't say exactly when, but I have a feeling. What would he say to my sadness? "It is what it is, my lover."

Deploying soon

It's been insane: alone with my one-year-old who refuses to sleep at night... while trying to hold down my full-time job. That may not sound like much, but it's close to undoing me. I couldn't ever be a single mom, I simply don't see how it is possible, yet people do it every day. I absolutely adore my little imp, and she EXHAUSTS me to the limit!

My lover is deploying VERY soon, in a matter of days. To the war. Right in the middle of it. He is anxious and down, and has a "bad vibe" about it. I try to be around when my daughter is asleep (rarely!) and just take his mind off his worries. I feel quite helpless, scared myself; and there is truly nothing I can do. He's got to face his fear alone, unfortunately. As we all do in the end, I suppose.

I told him really, think about getting out when you come home. He is too good for this system. He's intelligent and cynical and independent and has almost completed his degree now, so he will have more options. He sounds so unhappy, and I know he can aim so much higher. I told him that I find intelligence incredibly sexy, so don't worry about not wearing the uniform for my sake : ) His response was that he could never see me with a "moron" no matter how good looking. So funny. I think part of the attraction for him is that I'm not the typical vapid female one meets on a sex site. I know how to read him and use it for both of our advantage : )

As for me and "morons," well, I've been there, done that, and get bored easily. I do need an intellectual equal or higher. My husband is much more intelligent than me--I wouldn't stay married were I bored for that long! My mystery Marine was quite smart--too smart, he never messed up, always remained in control, leaving me looking foolish at times.

  

We are making plans for when he comes back--I think this is probably helping him more than anything. I didn't know he had this thought: he wants to take me to a swingers club : ) He knows a place in the area (of course he does lol)- a classy, membership-only place, where membership is only open to couples and single females. I don't understand the limitation, although something tells me it's a positive sign for a place like this. It would be a real step out of my comfort zone. Although I've had dreams of things like this with him, I'd never considered actually doing it. But we're beyond fantasy now--everything is open to us to explore. And he has other intriguing ideas, as well. Never bored with him.

I feel much calmer though, knowing he is not getting bored with me and shows no sign of wanting to end. I have been able to let go of the obsession a bit-not needing to hear from him daily. He's so consistent and has been for such a long time. It's very comforting somehow, that he is so steady and dependable. Steady as a rock. Wonderfully calm in a crisis. He's going to make some lucky woman an amazing husband someday, when he gets through his determinedly stubborn bachelor stage (I'm fine with him remaining in it for a long time yet to come though!).

Musing on getting older

I'm finally attempting to get myself together (trying). Exercised for the first time since I got pregnant (not that carrying around a 20 lb. baby isn't exercise! arm and leg muscles are in great shape...), and I mean a 30-minute walk in this gorgeous weather. So beautiful today, low 70s, dry, breezy. Listened to music and thought all the while.

So, this song practically invited me to blog today :

It takes a lot of self-esteem to not allow someone to mess with you. It takes self-honesty and staying out of denial. That's a lot to ask of a person; perhaps that's why it's so easy for the most sensitive of us to get messed with. In my experience, you can't trust anyone even who says they won't, because their intellect is not in control of their emotions and actions. Even if they claim it is.

I use my life examples because this is what I know--I'm sure you can think of something completely different that works.

On my walk today, I remembered what my lover said to me a few months ago. He said in warning, "The deeper we go, the more it's going to hurt when it's over." We had a bad time, a few years ago when he started dating someone, and told me goodbye. Prematurely. This was soon after our first encounter. I knew it would happen at some point, but hell, we were just starting. And to top it off, this was right after two rejections in a row. I wasn't in any place to handle it at all well. I allowed him to mess with me. I was a wreck for quite a while and just taught myself to adjust.

So, the lesson in that? I'm not sure I've learned anything much, except that I'm responsible for my own suffering. You see, if you decide that no one's ever going to mess with you again, you fall into an chasm. You build a wall and hide behind it. At least, that's been my experience. If you open yourself, someone's going to mess with you. I guess I can venture to say that I walked into this with my eyes wide open, this time, if that's a lesson. I am intellectually aware of the future. It's still going to sting--like when you have a cavity drilled with no anesthesia; yes, it will. And I could have mitigated that pain by not allowing our physical intimacy to enter the realm it has. But the one thing I can say is that I am consciously choosing this. I don't know what else to say, though.

I am getting older every day. My daughter is growing up. My husband is, too. Sex is a temporary state of affairs, and I peer at myself in the mirror every day, looking for the wrinkles on my face, the grey in my hair; surveying the extra weight I have put on since I became pregnant. I think about my mother and how I was always so hard on her for letting herself "fall apart"--for as many years as I can remember. But here I am. Falling apart. There's so much to do, so much care taking and pressure to keep my job(s), and not a second to spare (and yes, I write, but that's in my quick break times during the work week). I'm still vain, but I don't have the appearance to match it now. (no, I'm not fat, but carry an extra 15 pounds that I never used to, and it hurts me every time I look at myself.) I don't know why this doesn't bother the men in my life like it bothers me, but they honestly don't seem to care; it's me who insists on keeping the lights out.

Getting older is troublesome. I am on the verge of giving in and just becoming someone's mother, someone's wife, living in suburban tranquility (haha, never tranquility!). But I'm so exhausted, how can I keep up with what I used to be? I just don't know. Perhaps this is depression rearing its ugly head now.

I don't like where I'm going with this, so I'm going to stop while I'm still coping decently.

Definitions of intimacy

I asked my lover how he would define intimacy. I was curious, as he had once said that we were "intimate" (I wrote about that earlier, so I won't go into it now). His definition was "a combined closeness...physical and emotional, between two people." And I responded with my own definition: "in  to  me  see." To me, intimacy is being seen--and being ACCEPTED--for who you are, deep down inside (and vice versa).

An interesting difference in definition, eh? I mean, I agree with his definition, as a basic definition, but I believe intimacy goes way beyond a combination of the physical and emotional. When you learn a secret about another person and accept the valuable gift of that secret and offer a nonjudgmental, compassionate embrace [as a metaphor] in exchange, that to me is intimacy. Intimacy can be more than a romantic relationship; I would consider my closest friendships to be intimate. Some friends know more about my secrets than my husband ever will, for example.

I think, well, I know, my chosen definition comes from my problems with the word. Adult children of dysfunctional families tend to have difficulty with intimacy. I encountered many bumps along this road, for example, the overenmeshment with my father--not a normal intimate father-daughter relationship; or the difficulty I had with my sister's shaming responses when I would attempt to initiate intimacy in the form of sharing my thoughts and feelings and even a secret or two. I remember trying to tell her about some of the pain my husband and I were going through and the brisk, judgmental, almost angry tone of her voice shocked me into shame. I felt like I had become less of a person in her eyes--just as I was getting used to the acceptance and kindness and understanding I received from the members of my ACOA group. The sting of that has never left me.

This wonderful article, Fear of Intimacy, is extremely powerful. So much so that I find it hard to read more than a few paragraphs in a sitting. But to me, it rings of truth. If you are an ACOA and sense that intimacy is something that might need a little work, please read and share this, but slowly.

Seek You Out

I never listened to these lyrics closely until this morning, and they touched a raw nerve.

Seek You Out (POTF)

Never said you'd promise anything
Never told to trust you blindly
Never thought you'd hurt me either

Never had a chance now ain't that so
Never should've wept when you let go
Never thought you'd push me away

Sad as it may be
I'm glad it's over finally
Speaks volumes of me
When letting go is never easy

So I'll seek you out, just to find myself
And I'll worry 'bout consequences later
I hear you out, till I hear myself
Hear myself in you

Never knew if we were really true
Never thought I'd ever get to you
Never thought I'd end up like this

Never was I stronger than I'm now
Never felt this much a fool somehow
Never had much thought for myself


I think back over my addictive relationship I, and this song fits perfectly. He never promised anything to me, he never told me I could trust him, and I asked, at the very beginning, please be gentle with me when it's over. I don't recall him saying yes to that either. I filled in all the blanks myself, I fooled myself into believing it was intimacy. It was a relationship that wasn't meant to be, and that WAS meant to teach me to be strong. It was one I had to let go of eventually when I didn't think I could. I guess there's still a part of me that tries to hold on a bit. Why else would I still be writing about something that's long past?

Honestly, in the middle of the night I started thinking about him again. And did a web search. Something has changed; he's taking his privacy more seriously now. I didn't come up with much this time, when, in the past, he used to spill his life out on the Internet (of course, I'm more than guilty of that here). I'm actually quite relieved; I think it is a good sign for him. Perhaps things are getting better, perhaps he will find a true, fulfilling relationship--or already has.

These words and the sound of the music express the entirety of our relationship, the negative and the positive, better than anything I could write.

Music for moods

Just wanted to share more music finds. The Default song is rather emotional--actually, they both are, just in different ways. Very angsty. I don't feel particularly angsty at the moment, but there is always that deep seated well of angst to tap into...

I'm actually doing decently. Caring for my daughter on my own while dh is traveling--it certainly takes up my time and brain space. The more I have to do, the better. Not to mention the most important aspect of all--that I adore this child! She is amazing in every way, and I never felt love like this before.

What he means to me...

I took down my previous post, the "introduction," because I felt uncomfortable being that revealing. I lost one follower, and I suspect that was because the person felt the post was inappropriate. And it probably was. You see, that's what happens when I get carried away! Sometimes it takes mistakes to get me back on track. I think, also, my lover was excited to learn that I was telling the world about us, and he doesn't mind sharing that kind of thing, and, of course, I wanted to please him. But, you know what--at the end of the day, this is MY blog and I am about recovery and unconventional lifestyles...but not without boundaries. So, here's a rewritten version, a bit more  poetic, that describes what my lover is to me. 

I still can't believe he wants ME. I have to shake myself sometimes to be reminded that this IS real.  I love that he works with his hands; they are so very talented. I love the rough sound of his voice and his creative mind. He's such an intriguing combination of logic and creativity, which leads to incredible experimentation during our times together--and the most intensely erotic fantasies I've ever read. The one problem we have is that we suck each other dry...We sap each others' energy (speaking for myself, I tend to get physically ill or, lately, go into shock after our meetings), so frequent meetings are not prudent. If I weren't already convinced about the power of the body's energy fields, I would be now. I did see a man's aura once during sex; that was completely different. I don't see anything with him; I FEEL the power. It overtakes me, every part of me, the moment I step into his presence. And I can feel it through his words, in emails, chats, etc. But the energy in person, that is on a whole other level of intensity.  

There's so much I want to do with him still. The list is almost endless (and repetitive!), but if I died tomorrow, I would be satisfied.

This relationship is the most physical I have ever experienced. He's taken me to the deep, dark places I couldn't even imagine before I met him. We don't speak many words when we're together, but our bodies and sounds tell the most erotic and sensual stories. I don't have to say how much I want him or how I feel when he touches me. Years of pent up longing are expressed without a word. His commands compel me to obey; they melt and thrill me. He concentrates deeply as he ties intricate knots with ropes that bind me, and simply watching him in this meditative state is enough. I allow him into places secret and forbidden and am rewarded with such pleasure. I love to touch him with the water pouring over us; in my mind, we are not in a shower, we are standing in the rain and he is slowly stripping me, enjoying each layer as it slips off my body...He moves in me, he fits perfectly, I feel him throb, the warmth and strength of his body press on mine and the divide between reality and fantasy disappears. I become another woman, the one who throbs and pulses and beats to his rhythm.  When we are skin to skin, no matter what we are attempting, I am in bliss. I open up to him like a spring flower. "All too easy," he chides, but I do not want to play hard-to-get with him; I am eager and happy to give all I have.

The honest truth.

I've got some soothing jazz on in the background (good old Frank Sinatra) and I'm trying to sort out the big questions running through my mind....now that I've experienced both extremes of the "relationship" spectrum, I am more confused than ever. What is important in this life? What do we really need in our lives? Are we coerced to believe that passion can fulfill the hole deep inside of us or is this something instinctual? Or is this a biological urge? What about romance, what about love? What do our cultures persuade us to believe about this? How much of an effect does marketing and advertising have on what we believe we want?

I honestly don't know. Sex without affection and intimacy feels cold and lonely. Love and romance without much desire feels sad. When I have one, I want the other. When I am in the throes of passion with my lover, the world ceases to exist, but my body desires BOTH physical satisfaction and the closeness that perhaps my hormones crave afterward. I cry every time we finish and I begin to dress to leave. I want him to hold me, to stroke my face and tell me that he cares about me. He does hold me, he does stroke my face, but he says "are you a happy girl?" And I look him straight in the eyes and say yes. He walks me impatiently out the door, where a doormat simply states it all in one word: "leave." I then drive away from his street, pull off to the side and break down in tears. I feel so cold. So alone and empty. He was in me, he left part of him inside me, his body touched mine in the most intimate of caresses, but there's nothing to show for it and I'm driving home alone. The desire and fulfillment was temporary. I ache.

He does not. He is glad to have me out of his home and out of his physical life, not having to deal with any emotion, any "drama," any talk of relationship or feelings. He just moves on, until he wants it again and begins "courting" me like an animal in heat, speaking half-truths that he forgets he ever said after he's been satisfied. I don't understand why I feel a need for something he despises.

At home, my marriage is warm and friendly. Many times, though, we take each other for granted, we move about like ships in the night. When we were dating, he wooed me with ice cream, holding hands, romantic messages. And it's been over 20 years we've been together, and he is a constant presence, mostly comforting, at times annoying, as people tend to be after so long, but steady and true. Dare I even say it, dull. No excitement, no surprises anymore, no tender early mornings, holding each other. Which is why we embarked on this thing in the first place.

So, what do I want? Passion or stability? Is this what happens to all marriages after so long? Are women programmed to want intimacy and desire at once or is this just me?

When I am shopping, I am very cognizant of the sexual theme in product advertising these days. Everything is geared toward "sexy": clothes, makeup, even groceries and bedding! Lean, mostly nude women lounge all over products, and even if the advertising is more subtle, it reeks of sex. In this culture, we are taught to consume in order to entice...we are taught that consuming and exuding sexuality is what we should live for. It is a very powerful message we are being given. It makes stable, mostly content, but somewhat unexciting marriages seem like a bad choice and, I truly feel, encourages low self-esteem and a focus on obtaining the unsustainable high that sexuality offers . It's just one factor among personal choices, of course, but if you have been to America, it will hit in the head like a brick. It is the essence of American consumerist culture.

But the result of consuming for attraction, for seeking pleasure without love, at least for this conflicted woman, is emptiness. Achinesss. And tears, lots of them.

Amazing night...

Another amazing night. Even better, and I thought it couldn't get any better. He made me wait outside the door for so long that I went back to my car and texted him that I was about to go home. Then he said, "the door is unlocked, you know where the shower is, I will be waiting for you." The same as before: I step inside, lock the door behind me, go upstairs to the master bedroom. Quiet. Two candles, jasmine scented, burning next to the bed. I walk into the bathroom, another jasmine candle, throwing soft light into the darkness. I close the door. It's been a long day, I am relieved to have these few moments to catch my breath. I step into the shower and start to relax. The door slowly opens and I peek out of the curtain, he's there, laying out items for me to wear--his collar, the red and black stockings, stilletto heels...he passionately kisses me and leaves. I take my time, enjoying the sensual darkness, the feel of the warm water running over me, the anticipation of delights to come...

We made love many times in the afternoon, the evening, deep in the night and into the morning. It was different, so very different than before. Calmer, softer, warmer, lingering, but desire burning so hot it couldn't be stopped; my cries and growls grew to match his; our eyes locked, intensely, not letting go. We slept in each others' arms; we awoke to yearning and quenched it. I awoke at times to feel his large, strong hand wrapped around my neck, and followed his commands. All I needed was his voice in my ear and his hand wrapped around my throat...so much desire, so much need from both of us, such yearning to quench each others' passion.

Earlier in the evening, he took me out to dinner for the first time. Strange to enter the world outside his bed together...eventually, we talked and laughed and simply enjoyed each other's company. After dinner, too much desire to contain...his hand on my knee, between my legs, everywhere as we got "lost" in his car, and I was finally able to give him the pleasure he's been craving from me...

Birth Day

Today is one year. My daughter was born one year ago. She is beautiful, vibrant, healthy, perfect. The first year was terribly difficult, but I find myself missing my newborn, just a little. I am sad. And I am glad.

I went through 12 hours of hard labor, an emergency c-section, and two blood transfusions: pain and suffering for the best cause I could possibly live for. My daughter is a perfect fusion of my husband and me, and I can't imagine having a child any other way.

I am grateful that I know who my true friends are; the ones who stood by me during the hardest year of my life. My husband, my mother, my lover. Friends from recovery. Our doula. These are the people who never ran away when I was suffering and who endured despite how difficult I was at times.

C, if you are still here, I thought you would have been one of those. I did push you away, but when had that stopped you before? My hormones were a wreck, but I have accepted all.  I have learned through this that I want you in my life, but I don't need you. I am growing older and wiser, and hope for this blessing for you, too.

My brother-in-law is my greatest disappointment, and I had thought he loved me. I was shocked at his betrayal during my first week postpartum. That endures, and his son and my daughter will be the sadder for it. I don't know if I can ever forgive what he did.

And so, we begin a new stage. Toddlerhood and motherhood. My sweet child calling me "mama" and lifting her arms to be picked up. Grabbing my ears and laughing when I tickle her belly. Long nights of snuggling when she can't sleep. It's the good stuff life is made of. I'm finding it hard to remember my life before her.

Freeze time...

Please, freeze time. Don't let this moment pass. I am content.

My child is one year old. She crawls, laughs, talks, points, and hugs. I rocked her to sleep and cried from happiness.

My husband is comforting and loving. His embrace calms me. 

My lover is intimate. He holds my lust in his strong, capable hands.

I need nothing else.

A deep well

I want to share this haunting poem from a gem of a blog I just happened to "stumble on" (although I believe we never truly "stumble" on to anything!)  http://willspirit.com/2010/06/.  (image of the well also from willspirit's blog)

          

BEGINNINGS
The first three breaths after the last tremor of orgasm.
The first sixty seconds after the argument’s final howl.
The silence echoing the phone call that said,

“Your father died last night.”
The heart’s gallop when a future lover smiles in your direction.
The feral cries of an infant after deliverance from the birth canal.
Soon…
The world reforms itself.
The second hand starts moving.

We've been "debriefing" . . . it's always helpful to know what steps to take next or what to back away from. He said he was afraid I had gone into shock in the middle of the night, and that is exactly what happened (I didn't have a term for it). I became so cold--as in standing in outside naked in the Arctic circle type of cold--he wrapped me in three blankets and held me as I shivered, as my body went cold and numb and extreme nausea rushed through me; he whispered to me, he cradled me like a baby until my body started to warm up.  All I knew is that my body could not handle one second more of intensity.


With each release of orgasm after orgasm, grief gushed up from deep places; immense sadness without words, without a name. Swimming in a sea of sadness, he was the anchor. He accepts my need for release, for catharsis, with no judgment. He doesn't need to know why and I don't need to explain. We share a silent acceptance of all things sexual and our reactions to them. I don't understand where the grief comes from or why it only comes up when I'm with him. When I'm with my husband, it is simply sweet pleasure. I don't understand, but it is.

During the night, he held my hand between his two, as if surrounding a precious jewel with strong walls or safely protecting a tiny, innocent creature. He did not let go of me for a moment, not even in his sleep. What a precious, beautiful gift he is.

More thinking and connecting with the covert incest...

NO ABANDONMENT:
I have not been abandoned. I don't know where this fear comes from. Actually, one circumstance comes to mind: this person asked me to let him know I got home safely that night, but he didn't respond for a week-- and then only to stupidly lie that his power was out for a week. Since then, I don't trust men in these situations at all. They want what they want and then, who could care less; it's all lip service.

And that is just the surface issue. The deeper issue, once again, goes straight back to the covert incest. I know it must sound like a leap to connect these sexual encounters with covert incest in my past, but it makes sense to me when I look at it from a distance. The extreme fear of abandonment, the desire to please men (in whatever way),  the willingness to break boundaries...I'm not saying I regret this weekend, or any other time with my lover. I'm just aware in the back of my mind that, perhaps why he is so interested in me right now is because I allow more than other women do, that my boundaries are more porous, and I am willing to do most anything for his pleasure--all the "symptoms" are right there.

MORAL ISSUES:
Yes, I'm struggling with deciding if what I'm doing is right or wrong.  Having a lover, sanctioned though it is. Yes, becoming a mother has made me think twice. And yes, I know judgments abound about this issue.

I hate to think about what I would feel if I found out my daughter was doing exactly what I am doing. I would be critical and judgmental. Or maybe not; I don't really know. If I could understand what was in her head, I would probably be able to accept it.

From inside my head, it goes like this: I need to be validated, I need to feel desirable, and my husband honestly doesn't mind, for whatever reason. If he minded, I would not do it. If I were self-assured and content, I would not do it. If my sexual tastes were not so inflamed and specific, I would not do it. When I lose this lover, I don't want to go through the degrading, exhausting process of finding another.

I felt a deep sense of shame as I kissed my daughter goodbye for the night. My husband winked at me, told me to have fun. There's a dichotomy there that I can't quite reconcile.

On the positive side, last night my husband told me I look so young--that I look good. I guess that's what this lover does for me, too. Refreshed, relaxed, as good as a day at the spa. I wish I could find someone to talk to who also shares this lifestyle. That would definitely help.


PROCESSING:
I've been thinking a lot about (we call this "processing") the events of Saturday night. This was the first time he--anyone, really (except my dh)--wanted to please me as much as I wanted to please him. He made it very special, in the way he knows how. Many women complain because men just aren't sensually based and atmosphere-sensitive like we are; and men are proud that they have made a huge leap when they do one simple thing that women take for granted. Women tend to dismiss the effort because it doesn't live up to their expectations or what comes naturally to them. Does that make sense?

I don't think these things come naturally to him, but he actually wore his uniform and tried to add a little romance...he was definitely thinking about what would please me. That makes me so happy.  I realize what a huge statement these efforts were and I appreciate them simply because they were thoughtful and meant he had been listening and thinking and considering all this time.

Fire like no other...

I learned something Saturday night: if you play with fire, you will eventually get burned. I don't even know where to start. Intimacy, yes; fear, yes; loss of control...I thought he was made of steel, he could keep in control of himself and any situation. I was wrong. Just because someone is a master at Tai Kwan Do doesn't mean he is the master of his desires. We are both insanely compulsive and insanely human.

We overstepped a boundary, one we had set for ourselves. I am terrified--is this it? Is it over?  I don't know anything, I can't say what's going to happen or what he's thinking.

It was a fantastically erotic 17 hours. More new explorations, and I felt so comfortable with him that I let my guard down. I should have known; I can't do that without consequences. At 9:30am he was ready for me to go. So I left. He was watching me like a hawk as he led me away from his bedroom, down the stairs, and out of his house; I don't know why.

When I arrived, he texted me. I entered his house, locked the door behind me and followed his instructions. I walked into the master bedroom where the atmosphere was just right. This was definitely different--a candle in the dark, the stars and the earth in the background on the screen...silence for a few excrutiatingly long minutes. Then, a slight creaking of the stairs. Stealthy. He entered the room in his uniform, just the way he knows I like it. And it began.

He managed to accomplish all his goals. He turned me into a quivering, crying, moaning ball on his bed all afternoon and night, begging not to be touched at the end; he relaxed me into sleep; and in the morning in a desirous haze, we breached the boundary.  Everything he had ever wanted to do with me, in these four years of waiting. What is left now? For me, desire for him is never-ending. I do not know what is in his head. I am satisfied yet longing for more; terrified of abandonment after giving him the ultimate prize...

I did not think this would happen.

No fear.

"Her Alone" Amorphis.

"No Fear" The Rasmus.

I'm ready. I am grateful that I have been given this gift, to let the world disappear for a good 16 hours. I can go into my own "space"--the place he takes me to is dark, like these videos, but it is what I desire to be refreshed in body and spirit--be completely taken care of, not worry about anything. Know I am in excellent hands...No fear.

My lucky star;  my Marko Saaresto : )

Great adventures!

I am returning to Europe at last! I am so excited, I can hardly sit still, even though it's eight months away! I was planning to attend a conference in New York City and then some colleagues brought this conference to my attention, with the sentiment: "Why would you go to New York when you can go to LONDON!!!" But OF COURSE!  So, I spoke with a friend of mine in London, who recommended a quaint, cozy hotel in the center of everything..BOOKED! This is going to be amazing--I don't want to say much about what my field of expertise is to preserve anonymity, but this is something I've been wanting to do for a long time! It's a personal hobby, but I take it very seriously; all of us in this field do. I'm going to be hobnobbing with all sorts of "famous" people, (in a way), how fun! DH will come with me if he can, but I secretly believe he'd be just as happy having a week of father-daughter time without me : )

Oh, I have missed Europe. My husband might have to search for me, as I may not return of my own volition.

So, this has been a good week so far. And tomorrow's Friday. One day until my rendezvous...we've gone completely silent now. It's part of the ritual. And when I arrive on his doorstep, he's going to wait an unbearably long time to open the door, and probably watch me squirm uncomfortably from the peephole...that's how it begins, at least from experience. Last time, he must have been laughing at me, as I burst my way into his hallway and immediately jumped him. He didn't stop me though, although he promised to this time : ) This is going to be grand fun.

Anticipation...

The time is getting close and, of course, I am sick. Just a cold, which I won’t let stop me, but I started to wonder if this wasn’t destined to be…the forecast looked to be snow on Saturday and I have a bit of a drive. But no, it will be a perfectly mild day, and I’ve only got a mild cold : ) I will be there.

I found out he will be deploying soon. I really want to see him before he goes, to leave good memories to take with him. He asked me what my favorite scent is, and this is a HUGE change. Last time, he didn’t do anything special for our meeting. He answered the door in his sweats, as if he wasn’t expecting much. He got A LOT more than he expected! But this time, like I said, he’s been making “modifications” to his bedroom, he’s been “shopping” a lot it sounds like, and he asked about scent. He’s been doing a lot of work! Something huge changed after the last meeting. He’s very wishy-washy about it; insinuating that I’m the only one…saying he’s “not going anywhere,” but at the same time reminding me not to get obsessed, that my family comes first. We argued about that one a bit—what is a single, younger guy doing telling ME how to prioritize my life!! Obvious, I have my priorities in the right place. That was overstepping the boundary. 

I’m not at all used to this. He seems perfectly content being a single bachelor, no interpersonal responsibilities. But at the same time, he does want a feminine presence in his life somehow—I asked him what our night would look like if he could choose (he never tells me what he wants), and he said he would like me to come Saturday afternoon and stay the night, leave in the morning. So I said, “granted.” This is a man who, as far as I know, does not like women to stay the night. He can’t sleep with a woman in his bed. Last time, though, he slept pretty well! I brought this up to him and he just smiled, that cocky, crooked smile…I am flattered that he can sleep next to me. Not that I want him to be sleeping at all! It was quite lovely last time, he spooned me and laced his fingers through mine, curled up tightly against me. I, of course, being an insomniac, didn’t sleep at all, but I loved that feeling of intimacy. I remember how he held my face and kissed me, told me that he loved having me there, and stood at the doorway, lifted his hand, and watch me drive away. Such a serious look on his face—the memory still sends shivers down my spine.

I wonder what it will be like this time.