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.
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.
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.
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.
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...
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.
