Okay, I admit that my last post about Drogo was written out of my own irritation, and I'm glad that I have this safe place to vent and not go pouring my wrath upon him whenever I have fleeting feelings.

What I do have right now, though is kittens "helping" me to blog.

They are climbing on my hands and the keyboard and popping up between my arm and my side. It's pretty adorable.

Anyway, back to my admittance… I think Drogo just needed some time to, you know, be all grouchy and moody and whatever, and now he's getting over it. I pretty much decided that I was just gonna hold off and not really interact with him beyond passing conversation (i.e. not seek him out and "try to make things better") because I realized that women need a closeness when things are going wrong. We want to connect, to draw together, to be reassured and to talk and know that it's all gonna be okay etc. Men aren't like that. They want to be apart, to do productive things that will assure the desired outcome (that the thing going wrong won't be going wrong anymore) will come to pass. My continual pressing on him to make me feel better and to try to make him feel better and see if there was anything I could do to make things better and make the situation better was really just making things worse. So… I decided I was going to do for him what he needed. Space. Time. Silence. Okay.

I had to check my motives, though, and make sure that I wasn't ignoring him to punish him for being irritating, but to make sure that I was holding back from him to give him space to finish being grumpy on his own terms and in his own way. Waiting, you could say. Not punishing. And I did. And it felt kinda weird, but I knew I was doing the right thing. He came in after work and laid down with me for a bit, and I enjoyed that. He asked what I did, and I filled him in on the day. We discussed some "to do" things that I needed to accomplish that are urgent and I assured him that I would the next day (and I did!). He got up and went to go do his thing and I did my thing and eventually I went to sleep. While I was getting ready for sleep, though-- flossing, brushing my teeth, washing my face, etc.-- I came out and watched him play with the kittens for a while, which was adorable. We talked about them for a bit, too, and then I went to bed to sleep (versus going to bed to just lie down, which I do frequently). 

I woke up a few hours later 'cause pain and hunger and bladder, and as I stumbled into the kitchen I blearily noticed the sensation of my feet felt a bit different. I shuffled a bit further and realized-- Drogo had swept the floors! Granted, it's his chore and we'd both agreed it needed to be done that day, but he did it! Yay! I shuffled delightedly to the sink, only to be shocked into an utter standstill. The dishes were done. Normally I wash my dish right after I use it, but the past day or so had been especially bad for energy and muscle fatigue, so I'd let a few bowls and plates pile up and was dreading the thought of washing them all up. Now, though, I didn't have to, because the dishes were done!

And now I felt bad for being irritated with my husband at all ever. He wasn't far behind me in entering the kitchen, so I maneuvered my way back across the clean floor and kissed him passionately (do men know how sexy a clean kitchen is? Men everywhere--- this will get you into a woman's pants faster than roses and chocolates and fancy pick up lines! Okay, maybe not the chocolates, but it's really, really impressive!!) and thanked him profusely. I also thanked him again in the same manner the next day, and both times he was adorably bemused at my gratitude, but hopefully he'll store it away for future reference. He just said, "You were getting behind." Hah. Yes. Yes I was, and I'm grateful for the help.

So he's coming out of his grumpy shell bit by bit, but here's the bombshell… he broke his two cat rule. He has this big thing about only have two cats at a time. He claims it's to keep me from becoming a Crazy Cat Lady, and he's probably right, but I resent the Two Cat Rule with a passion, 'cause kitties! Anyway, we're re-homing the black cat that doesn't like people and keeping one of the kittens, right? Right. But the kitten will be oh-so-lonely without mama and its litter-mates because that's all it's ever known! So I proposed to Khal Drogo that we keep two kittens, especially since Juneaux is terrified of kittens and they'll need each other, at least until they're more significantly grown. He's been thinking about it, and today he mumbled that he guesses we can keep two kittens… and then he picked out the one that he likes the best. He broke his own rule! Ha-HA! 

Sorry. I just feel rather victorious at the moment. He didn't let me celebrate, though. I squeee'd once, very loudly, and he told me to "stop freaking out, woman". So I did. I replied "I will stop freaking out because I know that if I continue to do so it will jeopardize the decision you have made. Am I supposed to act like this is no big deal?"

"Yes."

"Cool. No big deal then. Can I smother you in kisses?"

"I'll be in there to kiss you in a minute. I'm leaving for work."

"Besides that one. Can I smother you in kisses?"

"…I'll be in there to kiss you in a minute. I'm leaving for work."

"…Alright, fine."

So I admit that I was writing out of my own annoyance yesterday, and he is being an adult and getting over himself, at his own pace, in his own way… and he's making overtures of kindness toward me, I think to make up for the grumpiness that he knows has hurt me this past week and more. I haven't discussed that here, but there have been incidents. It's been rough. Anyway… our marriage isn't in danger. We're just people, like anyone else, refusing to give up on each other. And isn't it super sweet that he swept the floors and did the dishes and is letting me keep kittens? My heart is so totally melted right now!!!! <3 p="">

Did I imagine it?

Was it all a dream?

Those valleys we forged together, the deep darknesses that clawed their way to the core of my being, scrounging for victory, only to be driven back by your brilliant light... again and again... We've come so far.

Did it really happen?

Here I find myself, staring at the blank faces of the brick walls I've erected... again.

God, will I never cease to shut you out, one way or another?!

I sense you calling me... arms outstretched, heart bursting and aching with love... cheeks shining with the evidence of your love...

and I sit, catatonic, unmindful.

Tears course down my face, too, but they're not tears of love, they're tears of brokenness.

How did I end up here again? I am not setting out to be unresponsive, I promise you I am not, but... I just don't know how to be anything else. I don't know, God- I just don't know how to do this! It's so hard. How do I do this? What does it even look like? What does it mean?


What is love, God? Why am I not changed by it? I want so badly to be renewed, to be transformed, to love and live radically... but why am I still the same?

I'm so tired of fighting. So tired of fighting for peace... so tired of trying to do it right. I don't know how. I just don't know how to do this.

So what do I do?

How do I open up? How do I let you in? God, I want to let you in... but it seems like every time I do... it doesn't stick. How do I mean it?

God... I'm broken by my inability to be broken. Does that make sense?

So here I am... tangled shards of good intentions. Do what you can... whatever that is.

I'm tired of building walls.

photo

I just discovered that I have trichotillomania. No, it's not a contagious disease, it's, essentially, a compulsive urge to pull out my hair. I've been doing it for years and tried to stop, albeit unsuccessfully. It's good to know that some others out there share this weirdness. I do notice that it increases with stress or depression, and it's ritualistic in a way- I only pull out certain types of hair. Two schools of thought on this one: 1. an impulse-control disorder, or 2. a bad habit. If I choose #1, does that make me less of a loser?

Dear God,

I thought about driving off a cliff on the way home today. At first, I thought I might just go into the river-- it looked so... pure. It rushed and surged past, glinting and ice-cold. I thought that maybe it would cleanse me, purge me. But then I remembered... I don't like the cold. It might be neat to watch the bubbles rise and the current spin past me from behind glass... to just wait until the darkness claims me... but I don't like the cold. So then I thought that a cliff might do well. I can just imagine soaring through the air in one last graceful arc... the freedom might overwhelm me.

But then, I thought, You know... that would be an easy way for my adversary to get rid of me. No way! I'm not going down that easy! I'm sticking around, if only because I hate you! I WILL fight, because you can't take me down. I won't let you.

Why do I hate myself? It seems that, no matter the scenario, I cannot escape the snide, condemnatory voice in my head. I tell myself, No, it's not true! You're being lied to! It doesn't seem to make a difference.

God, am I doing this all wrong? Am I failing? Am I not doing this, or something, anything, right?

I'm doing the best I can. I think I'd rather have it this way than trying to work through the checklist each day.

Why do these thoughts of killing myself come? And why, even though I dismiss them, do they linger in the back of my head? Why am I depressed? Why do I get these funks? Am I blaming too much on my past? Is there just something fundamentally flawed within me? Do I have a mental illness? Do I have a disorder? Is there a reason I experience these things, or am I just not doing it right?

God, I don't want to be this way. I don't! If I could wake up tomorrow and be different, I would. No, I would NOT choose this pain. So why did you? Who are you, anyway? What kind of a god voluntarily puts himself at the mercy of the demons that torment me? In my darker moments, I might just tell you that you shouldn't have done it. Obviously, it hasn't fixed me. Go on... save yourself. Noble, right?

I wondered tonight, on the drive home... I think I care entirely too much about "the church" and what they think of me. I'm just afraid of being attacked... rejected... of more stones added to the weight that already crushes the breath from my lungs. But, really... who cares what they think? They're not the ones that let me into heaven. Besides, if they kick me out, I know a few sunday churches that would be happy to have me, warts and all. Sad, isn't it? "The Church of Destiny" strikes fear into my heart. Also, the fact that if I walked away I would be considered "fallen", possibly even damned, really irks me. (Being irked...that's so not Christ-like. *sigh*)

I'm sorry for my confusion. I'm sorry for my rebellion, for my pain, for my darkness, and for my instability.

I'm scared. Backpedaling in my mind. I don't like him, I don't. If I don't like him, nothing will ever happen (because he might be "too old" for me anyway), and if nothing ever happens, then he will never have to deal with my pain, my issues, and he will never see my darkness, and I will never be rejected, and...

I just want to be loved so desperately... I'm afraid that I'll jump at the very first chance. Any chance. Just love me. Don't leave me. Don't hurt me. Above all, don't condemn me.

I cry entirely too much for my own good these days.

Goodnight, God.
I'll see you tomorrow.

K: When will I learn that hot things are hot, that they'll burn me?!

Me: When you're burning at the stake.

Error: Brain to mouth filter malfunction. Please restart unit.


Sigh. I'll get there eventually.

I'm going to go back up my computer's data, and then make a couple lists. I'll be back later.

The last post was a bit... angry. I know. I guess I'm just rediscovering my anger, and this is as good a place to put it as any. Nobody gets hurt.

Funny thing is, due to all the rains around here lately, there have been landslides. As I drove to work today, I thought, "What if a landslide hits my car and I die? The last post I left was so angry! I don't want to leave it like that!"

So... with that said...

There. That's better.