Beware-- this is the post about sex and kink that I warned you about in the previous post. If this subject makes you uncomfortable, skip this post. Seriously.

I'm part of the local kink community, the BDSM "scene", if you will. We have regularly scheduled get-togethers throughout the month, usually 3. One is a dinner at a restaurant, called a "munch". Munches vary from place to place, but basically it's a gathering of the kink community to hang out in a non-kinky ("vanilla") place. Another night, we have a "slosh", which is a gathering to hang out and talk in a bar or place that sells liquor. It's like a munch, but with booze. The third thing we do every month (with a few exceptions throughout the year for various reasons, always good) is get together at the house of whichever member(s) is/are hosting for a play party. What takes place at a play party is as variable as the composition of the group. The purpose of a play party is to allow kinksters to engage in their common activity, BDSM, in whatever manner they choose. Also, everyone brings some sort of food dish to contribute to the general potluck, so that's important. Like, really important. (Beyond being sarcastic, it actually is important, because coming down from an intense endorphin and adrenaline high after a scene can be difficult, and food goes a long way toward stabilizing you and your blood sugar and keeping you from crashing and burning. There are other things that comprise "aftercare", but food and water are important ones.)

Last time I attended a play party, I asked one of my guy friends there if he would flog me. His wife, kittymeow, was fine with it, as was my husband, so he put me in restraining cuffs on ankles and wrists and chained those to the St. Andrew's Cross, my face inward. This particular one is a double cross that's hinged at the top, and both sides come down at a bit of an angle so it makes a triangle, two sides of it being X's and the bottom a wide wooden base. He started with a smaller flogger, then worked his way up to a large, heavy one with lots of falls, or leather strands. Then he worked his way back down to the light ones, finishing up with a quick session of a whip-- my first time with a whip, and I was afraid that it would hurt me more than I wanted, but hawkeye has fantastic control, and he kept the sting minimal. He finished the session with knife play, after asking me if it was okay, of course. (Knife play is, btw, amazing and incredible and super yummy. Could just be his technique? Whatever. Amazeballs.) He also asked me before he used the whip, because that's the number one fundamental rule for BDSM of any kind-- Risk Aware Consensual Kink, or, put another way, Safe, Sane, Consensual. There is a lot of continual communication during any kind of play, whether it be impact play, like being flogged or whipped, or sensation play, like the knife, because the top (or "Dominant") needs to know where the bottom (or "submissive") is at with pain levels, tolerance, sub space, other bodily needs, etc. If you're feeling uncomfortable and want to stop, all you have to do is simply say so and it's over, just like that. No questions asked, no fingers pointed or derogatory comments aimed in your direction. A standard practice before starting a scene is to agree on a "safeword", which is a word or a phrase that means "I need to stop right now, this very instant!" It's important to have that in case you aren't thinking straight, or if your play involves a lot of "no's" (that don't actually mean "no", of course), or whatever might come up. Maybe you suddenly have the runs, or your trick hip just gave out. Who knows? At any rate, if the people you're playing/scening with are worth their salt at all, the option to quit at a moment's notice is always available with no repercussions. The top can use the safeword too, if they want, though usually it's the one enduring the pain that uses it.

Although I've not been a part of the local kink community (or any kink community) for a terribly long time (less than a year), I've come to really love and appreciate every single member. They all bring something unique to the table that makes up the varied composition of our group, and our group is fantastic. We have so many crazy talented people. Sadly, three of our number are moving away, one to be with her Dom, so that's a happy thing, but the other two, a couple, are moving because he received a new military assignment. They're engaged, so where he goes, she goes, which is killer for all of us, because they are pillars in this community, but especially for her girlfriend, kittymeow... I'm hoping that I might be able to step in and fill some of the gap that's left for kittymeow, the girlfriend/wife. We relate especially well because she's a chronic pain sufferer as well, so we understand each other on a level that others never will. The coming party has been planned for some time, and it's going to be a "Goodbye" party for our three moving friends. We haven't had a theme before, but since this is a special party Devil's Advocate, the fiancée, chose to theme it as a Masquerade Party! They've also named it Ragnarok, which I find particularly amusing.

Corey comes to parties with me when he can, but most of the time they fall on a day that he's working. Since his days off got shifted away from Saturday, he's not free to come. This time, though, he'll swing by after work, at least to pick me up, and so he can say goodbye. It's supposed to end at 1 a.m., but I am not alone in suspecting that it will run longer than that. Funny story: when Devil's Advocate saw the Robot's mustache, she made Perfect Devil grow one as well, which was fine because he was totally inspired by his 'stache anyway! Too funny ^_^ Anyway, I began running into the problem while soloing at parties that I wasn't sure what was appropriate behavior for me and what wasn't. I wanted to play more, but I didn't want to violate Corey's trust in me or commit a relationship infraction, so when I came home from the last party we sat down and devised a set of rules for when he is not at a party with me. The project I'm working on is to transcribe them to a cute, portable little piece of card stock or a card, or something, something I can take with me and refer to with ease this weekend. So far they are just scribbled down on a sheet of notebook paper, but I want to share them here as well, to give an idea of the etiquette the Robot expects me to uphold when he is not around. The rules go as such, without any particular order in regards to importance:

1. All rules apply to both parties unless stated otherwise.
2. No hands-on or oral genital stimulation is allowed in Corey's absence, giving or receiving.
3. If prior permission is given to allow stimulation, I must be wearing underwear during the act(s).
4. No penetration of any kind by others, whether toy or body part.
5. I may not orgasm by the efforts of anyone else but Corey and myself.
6. No kissing males, including MtF trans, but females are fine for mouth kissing.
7. No mouth-to-skin contact (i.e. nibbling, biting, etc.) on any location that can be covered by a mask or a g-string. This includes face, genitals, and anus.
8. Breasts are fair game at all times.

I picked up a gorgeous glass horse tail anal plug while in Wisconsin. One of the conference speakers discussed sex and disabilities, and at the end she passed out her business cards. She works at an "erotic boutique" that's feminist and education based and it sounded amazing, so several of us ladies went over to check it out, and we all came away with stuff we were really excited about. I couldn't put the tail down once I'd asked to see it out from under the glass counter, and I knew I would really regret leaving without it so I bought it! I got several other things, which I may or may not discuss in another post, but on top of all that I also picked up a gorgeous plus size teal satin and black lace dress/teddy thing. (Technically my mom did, but it was for me, so…) I had been freaking out over what to wear to the Ragnarok Masquerade, but suddenly I had an answer! I also went to the Fox River Mall and got a very gorgeous and sparkly purple half-mask to wear with it all, et voila! All set :) Here's a few pics of the tail that my friend took when I tried everything on the other day. (If you click the links in this paragraph, it'll take you to the website of the toy store, and the specific items that I bought from them. I think that in another, later post, I'm going to compile a wish-list from the store, Tool Shed. Everything I saw there was really quality, and because I support the store's mission, I'd like to buy from there to support them financially.)

 

Well folks, I'm all tuckered out. I'm not so used to typing anymore. In fact--little secret, here--I've already fallen asleep at least twice while finishing up that last paragraph! So good night to all, and may you have wonderfully saucy dreams.

So today is the day. I'm headed to the University to see the good ol' doctors and hopefully, hopefully get some answers, maybe move forward an iota in this journey. My friend drove me, and we've been having a grand old time. She's a pretty new friend, but we've bonded quickly and have a lot in common. I really enjoy spending time with her, and she doesn't mind driving me these long distances so it's a really good symbiotic relationship.

It has been so long since I've gotten out of the house and just had fun, but when I'm out on road trips with Cheryl we have fun! Granted, they're medical road trips, but who cares? We went and got pedicures last night after getting into town because I've needed one desperately for some time. The bottoms of my feet and my heels were dried, cracked, peeling and bleeding but I can't reach my feet to take care of them anymore. (I can't soak in the tub any longer either, because I can't get myself up and out; it's too painful and difficult.) I haven't been able to bend like that for some time, just because of the spine and ribcage and stuff, and I have more difficulty bending my knees now. I ask Corey to help me now and then, but he blows me off because he doesn't want to do it, like most of the things I ask him to do for me. Massages are the most frequent request, but he finds them boring and so it doesn't happen. I'm hoping that he can learn to grow and change with the situation and become more proactive, more helpful. When we talk sometimes he says that he doesn't know what to do to help with my pain or other troubles, but that's not the truth. He knows, because I tell him. I ask for things, I don't just assume that he knows what I need. He just… doesn't wanna do it.

Cheryl and I have been talking about a very wide range of things on this trip and I've gotten to vent about the hurt and frustration I'm feeling in this season of life. It's not just one thing, of course, but a whole kaleidoscope of minor and major stings and slashes and bruises. I'm just trying to make things better. I hope it works. The best thing about our conversations that range all over is that not only are we so much alike but she understands from the chronic illness standpoint as well. Her disease came out of a long remission about 4 or 5 years ago, so she's feeling the sting of losing the normalcy and routine of the life that you lived and maybe loved. I'm going on 3 years and I still have a hard time making heads or tails of it. Yes, Friko, there is more to me than illness, but I just live those parts. I don't need to blog about them because they don't cause me pain, I don't need to sort through the feelings. A lot of who I used to be and what I used to do is gone, though, and I'm trying to figure out what fits in the gap. It hit me like a brick last week to realize how dependent I've been forced to become and that just galls. I was such an independent woman, a "doer", a travel across the country by myself, backpacking, hiking, counseling and administrating, housekeeping, job holding person who could drive herself to the store if she needed to. I can't do any of that anymore. I can hardly cook for myself these days, me who used to cook for our family on a daily basis. I'm a damn good cook, but it's too painful and exhausting for me to pull it off any longer.

So all of that is tumbling around in my mind like a rock polisher hard at work as I face this appointment. I have no idea what to expect, but I know what I'm hoping for. If they can actually definitively tell me what disease I have then logically there will be a course of treatment that will help me to at least stabilize, but hopefully to become functional again. That is what I am looking forward to. I resent my dependence and so does Corey. He's resorted to mechanical functioning and nothing I do can bring him out of his shell. He won't even say "I love you" unless I say it first; it's just a response. He doesn't kiss me, I have to go up and kiss him. It's like he doesn't want to interact with me anymore beyond a superficial basis-- I kiss him and tell him I love him when he goes to work, I kiss him and tell him I'm glad he's home when he comes home (all true, by the way). We'll fix ourselves something to eat, watch a few episodes of whatever show we're watching together, take a walk for half an hour or so, and then he retreats to his man cave to play computer games and I do whatever it is I need to do (sleep, read, slowly accomplish some chores) until it's time to go to bed. He doesn't cuddle with me in bed anymore, either. Lately there's been a teeny bit more of that, but it's because I cuddle him, wrapping an arm around him or entwining our feet like we used to do…

I don't know if it's the truth, but I feel like the health and happiness of our marriage is intrinsically tied to the state of my health. If I can get a good diagnosis and course of treatment, I can get somewhat better. Then Corey won't be as stressed or freaked or whatever he is, and he'll return some closeness, maybe? Hopefully? I'm reminded of a time we were talking about something or other and he said, partially in jest I hope/think, "I don't want to deal with cripples," or some such. I just kind of laughed, patted him on the shoulder and told him, "Sweetie… you're married to one."

I tend to get my hopes too far up in the sky and then bemusedly wander around, dripping with my own blood, when those hopes fracture and come crashing down on me to crush and transfix me. It's kind of a weakness. But is a diagnosis of what is clearly a destructive disease really that big of a dream? I mean… shouldn't it just be kind of a realistic thing to expect from life? And so I welcome you to the times and trials of the chronic illness patient.

(If you want to hear a neat song about high hopes, check out Sinatra's song about high, apple pie in the sky hopes. It's adorable.)

So guess what, folks? The Princess (that's me!) went on vacation. An honest to goodness, get away from it all vacation. I really, really did! It would in no way have been possible without my amazing sister in law, who I did not know cared for me as deeply as she does, but she spoiled me in almost every fashion imaginable.

First off, she had started saving for this weeks and weeks ago, and while I was there I paid my own way on things twice. Twice. In an entire week of going places and seeing things and doing stuff and buying food! Second, she was very careful to keep my physical labor to a minimum, to make sure that I rested as much as possible, and that I was able to access the places we visited. She carried all of my luggage and would only let me carry pillows and the like, even loading and unloading my walker every time we got in or out of the car! I must admit, it was pretty fantastic to have a sherpa, as I jokingly called her throughout our time together.

It was a bit of a whirlwind trip, but it was so incredibly nice to have no responsibilities, to not have to pay for anything, to have fun things to look forward to every day yet not have any kind of a rigid schedule so that our whims and my health could lead the way as to our activities, and to just kind of… well, I have this mental image of, like, my normal life and home and such with this blank white cutout space in my shape throughout the entire week where I would normally be during that time, and the cutout of me was pasted into this whole other life and reality for a week. Does that even make sense? It was so different from how my life usually proceeds that it felt like almost an entirely different reality, which is what vacation is supposed to be, right?

It felt restorative, rejuvenating, and soothing. I was the closest that I've been to my pre-Spoonie self than I've been in years. Granted, it took a lot of assistance to get that, but that doesn't diminish the experience at all. It's a series of memories that I will cherish for a long time to come, I can guarantee that.

Our week went something like this…

Sunday: Colleen (sister in law) arrives and we more or less intend to leave that day, but don't because I'm feeling poorly and it takes me forever to pack, and also what's the rush? We make a list and Colleen packs for me, which is awesome.

Monday: We leave in the morning after stopping by the local muffin store (Yum-azing!), I sleep all the way to Tucson. We go grocery shopping, Colleen cooks supper, take a walk around University, get locked out of house upon return and Colleen ends up breaking in through a window that was unlocked.

Tuesday: Visit an art store for shopping, go clothes shopping for me at a thrift store nearby, have dinner with Colleen's best friends and I have my first margarita. The night is capped with my first hookah smoke and we talk late into the night.

Wednesday: Walk the main drag near the University and visit the tea house we've had our eye on, go to dinner at a fancy place and run low on time, get trapped in the parking garage because of a faulty ticket and barely make the play we've been looking forward to seeing (and pre-purchased tickets for). End the night by returning to the main drag and hanging out at a coffee shop smoking hookah and eating Mediterranean pastries until the shop closes late.

Thursday: Drive to town an hour or so away to spend a few days with my friend Rose. She was interning with the Victim Rights department during the trial that put my molester in prison, and so she was sort of a victim advocate for me and we've kept in touch and maintained a friendship since. Get settled, I get a haircut and Rose takes me on a mini tour of the Army Fort and beautiful surrounding scenery. I fall asleep in the car and nap upon our return, wake to find company over for dinner, and we all hang out until dispersing for bed some time after company leaves.

Friday: Take a 2 mile walk with Rose (yeah, that's right! I'm fuckin' proud of myself!!!), nap briefly before we all pile in and drive to Bisbee to check out the stores and sights. Colleen buys her first "real" piece of art and is now an official adult, and I find some amazing souvenirs and a smaller cast iron skillet of a size we don't already own that I take home for Corey. (He likes it a lot, and used it for the first time tonight to make a sort of omelette.) After coming home, Rose's "Gathering Of The Awesome" party starts a while later, consisting of awesome women that she knows and invited to an evening of yummy light food, good drinks, good conversation and company, and a fun art activity that was also insightful and connecting.

Saturday: Leave Rose's and head back to Colleen's house, go grocery shopping for afternoon picnic planned. I nap for a few hours, then she, I, and one of her best friends that we went to dinner with go up Mount Lemmon and have a picnic, sort of start a fire to keep ourselves warm, and watch the sunset on the drive back down the mountain.

Sunday: We both sleep in, and eventually she packs up the car and takes me back to Yuma but leaves shortly after because of work the next day.

I was feeling pretty good throughout the week, at least as far as "good" for me goes, but as the week went on I could feel myself wearing out. By Friday night I was running a mildly low grade fever and felt pretty gross. Saturday night I declined a proposed meet up with a friend of Colleen's in favor of staying in bed because I felt shitty, and Monday, the day after I got back, I pretty much did nothing but sleep in hour-to-several-hour increments for about 24 hours. I'm still recovering, but part of it is that I don't have that medication that helps so much with the stiffness and pain in my joints anymore, so I just feel more arthritic and whatever than usual anyway. Also, period should be coming soon, and I'm always exhausted the week before my period and sleep more than usual, so I'm not surprised there, either.

I cheated a lot with allergens on vacation, so I'm returning to being a "good girl"… but oh man, I had some of the best food in a long time. Have you ever had fresh sopapillas? Then you are missing out on the culinary equivalent of salvation for your soul, I swear to you. They are so. good. I've also been on a huge muffin craving kick since we hit that muffin place on the way out of town. I had forgotten what I was missing, but now I am constantly reminded of my suffering due to lack. Alas, alack, woe is me, woe betide, and all that sorrowful jazz…

It was a good trip. It was a very good trip. I don't expect to have an experience like that again anytime soon, but I will surely treasure it. I feel different somehow from having  had the experience, but I'll think on that more later. I am so indebted to my ladies, Rose and Colleen. My gratitude knows no bounds. I know that they really went above and beyond for me… and yet for them, I'm sure it seems somewhat of a simple matter. It's funny how perspective works. From my perspective, it was a chance to live life again, to have fun and forget the frustrations and complexities of trying to juggle doctor's appointments and bills and finding rides and medication snafus and all that… to simply be a young woman again and enjoy things… to just have fun, pure and simple! From their perspective, it was doing things that maybe they don't get to do every day but have been wanting to, but it wasn't particularly mind-altering I don't think. It was pretty much business as normal, but on vacation time.

Regardless of who felt what, there is one thing that we should all be feeling right now, and that's pride. Pride in me, of course. Why? Because it's only been 3 days since I got home, and I'm fully unpacked! Yeah, baby! (This is fairly unheard of, just for context.) Now that I'm home, back to responsibilities, I feel a little better equipped to handle them now that I'm not so frazzled and frayed because I had a pleasant break. On the other hand, it makes me not want to deal with real life at all anymore and just continually live the vacation life on someone else's dime… Heh. If only, right?

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="">

1. Cry. A lot. Not those little sissy tears, either, that dramatic one-tear-down-the-cheek. No, I'm talking a good old fashioned bawling and gasping and keening your grief until you're weak in the knees and you can barely stand.

2. Pray. Somehow. For something. Even if you are not sure it'll do anything. They don't even have to be coherent words. (Many people choose to combine steps one and two.)

3. Bring someone you trust in the room to catch you when you keel over, to hold your arms down to keep you from hurting yourself (and them),  to remind you to breathe and keep you from hyperventilating, and to slap you in the face with truthful statements. Trust me-- you'll need that.

4. Talk about it.

5. Sleep on it. You're way too emotionally wiped to do anything else, even though you don't feel like sleeping.

6. Somewhere between steps 1 and 5, have a cup of tea to calm you down. It works wonders.

7. Blog about it. Even if you can't find the words, and can barely bear to obliquely reference what's going on, it still helps to get even a speck of the turmoil out, or at least to break through the numbing haze that you're wandering around in.

8. Cry some more. At any time. Really, it's okay. Expected, even.

9. Do what you gotta do. In this case (hello, unexpected twist), it's going door to door.

At least, this is what I did last night and today.

I was doing fine yesterday morning and early afternoon, but when I came home from work something twisted inside of me, and I just crashed. I was depressed, and a few things after that contributed to a desperate, sad kind of mood. I was trying to be optimistic and look on the positive side, and I could see good things, but the mood just wouldn't go away.

Went out to dinner with L and some of her friends, and I ate soy. Quite a bit of it. So I wasn't feeling well when I got home, not to mention that E was texting me about work stuff and for some reason I was really annoyed by it, so I made a strawberry glaze pie.

I texted C that I needed to talk to him, but when he got home I gave him the cold shoulder. I just didn't feel confident enough to broach the topics that I needed to, and I was feeling too down and "I just don't care anymore" to even try. I learned something last night-- C's automatic response when someone is upset is to leave them alone and figures they'll talk when they're ready. That's how he works. Mine is the opposite-- I want him to "come after me" when I'm upset, otherwise I feel like he doesn't care. But he was trying to care for me by giving me my space. Isn't that funny?

Anyway, when I finally did talk to him later, we discussed how I feel like I'm just part of the scenery to him now... and how we are basically ships in the night because of our different work and sleep schedules. He shared that he doesn't want to smother me and how he has been trying to take care of me because he doesn't want me to get burnt out by staying up super late with him. Oh, that man. I love him. (Even though I was so down yesterday that I contemplated leaving... again. That's me-- the runner. Sometimes I feel like I'm bipolar or something.)

So we agreed to have a "date night", a time for just us once a week, that way we'll be sure to be spending time with each other. He gets to choose what we do one week, I get to choose the next. I'm glad for that.

We didn't talk about that till after the crisis, though. I was grouching off to bed, when I heard my phone going off, and almost didn't get it.

It was my sister, K, and she was crying. I couldn't understand her at first, but I finally got the story out of her. She said that Mom and R were in the garage, and he was pushing her. When K went out to the garage to defend Mom from R ("Leave my Mom alone!!"), he grabber her by the shoulders and pushed her up against the wall, yelling at her. Mom told J to call the police, and she did. (It resulted in R being arrested, though he bonded out last night, with a 5 day no-contact order.)

I made sure K and the baby were ok (they were), and told her that I was sorry and that I wish I could just scoop them all up and bring them here. Apparently, that stuck out to her, because she mentioned that to Mom when she told me that she had called me. I told her that I couldn't do anything for her but pray with her, and would she like me to do that? She sniffled yes. I said, "Okay, let's pray right now," and she sniffled the affirmative again. I had managed to keep the tears back until I started praying, but then I lost it and was crying and trying to pray at the same time. I don't really remember what I said, but it was something along the lines of praying for their safety, for God to just wrap them up and love on them and to bring about healing and health. It helped her calm down some, and I stayed on the phone with her until the cops showed up.

After we hung up, I pretty much lost it. (Cue step 1.) I combined steps one and two, and implemented step 3 after a few minutes of solitary grieving. Though there had been tension between C and I (my fault), he practically leapt to my side when I opened the bedroom door, still crying, and asked him to come with me. Poor S... in typical guy fashion, he saw me crying and thought, "Girl crying? I'm out." He finally came out of his room a good forty five minutes to an hour later.

So C came in and held me up while I cried, then helped me over to the bed and just plain held me while I cried some more... tried to calm me down, then held me while I wracked my way through another bout of convulsive tears. I calmed down eventually, and then I was able to talk to him about what was bothering me earlier, and it was good.

Mom called a while later, after everything was said and done, and she straightened out some of the story for me. R had taken away her credit cards a few days ago, and was in her face, yelling at the top of his lungs about money, so she pushed him to get away, and he pushed her back, and so they had this pushing battle, I guess. That's when K came in, and while R was distracted, Mom mouthed to J to call the cops, which she did. Mom and R began having a sane, civilized conversation, but then the cops came. After hearing all sides of the story, they said they needed to arrest someone, and though Mom volunteered, they took R. The cop who spoke to Mom was miffed, esp. about R taking away her credit cards. He also brought up his concerns with the fact that she is the one who volunteered to be arrested. (As did I-- too much of what she says sounds like the abused ladies that come through our agency..) He did say, however, that the arrest won't affect R's job negatively.

Mom told me that R can be very giving and generous at times (like Christmas, when he offered to pay for my schooling), but when he feels like he's losing control, he turns into this super selfish miser. He tries to control everyone and everything around him, and Mom gets the brunt of that. She doesn't feel like she's herself anymore, because there are things about her that R doesn't like, so she's tried to change that... like her spontaneity, her joking, etc. She feels like she's lost a part of herself, and she's trying to get that back.

I told her that if she came to Y, the HJ would be more than happy to utilize her. She says she won't leave until J graduates from the school she's at now, though, because it's such an amazing school and J is doing so well there. That's my mom. She puts us kids first no matter what.

The worst part is that R was yelling at Mom, saying he has no money to pay the credit card bill because he just paid for my classes and spent a couple of hundred on my dentist bill, etc. So I feel like it's partially my fault, all this crazy mess... and I still have some doctor's bills that have showed up, but I'm not going to ask him to pay for them. I'll do it myself.

While in the initial stages of shock all I could think about, all I could say, was that... I'm their protector. I'm K's big sister. I'm supposed to be there for them, to keep them safe, but I couldn't. I didn't. I'm not there, I'm here, and there's nothing I can do. I failed them, somehow. (Ah, but C reminds me that it's not my fault, I didn't do this, and I can't stay at home my whole life, trying to protect them from everything. It's not my responsibility.)

I failed them by not being there, by not keeping them safe... and I failed them by trusting R.

How many father figures must I lose?

I've been betrayed.

I trusted him, and worse than that, I loved him.

This isn't the first time something like this has happened... and I told him I disapproved, strongly, but I still loved him.

Oh, God... it feels like the past is playing itself all over again...

I don't know what to think about him anymore. He was my dad, my father, the best one I've ever had... but he's hurting my family... crushing my mom's spirit slowly... What do I do with that?

Because I want to trust him... but I just don't know what to do anymore. It feels like I let the enemy into the camp, and now I'm kicking myself.

People make mistakes, but where do you draw the line?

And if Mom leaves? Do I still consider him my dad? What do I do with that? When he comes back in 4 days? The next time he calls me? Do I just pretend that I don't know? Do I say something? Do I stand up to him, call him out? What do I do?!?!?!???


It sucks to feel so responsible, yet to be so far away... the only thing I can do is pray, and I don't even know if that'll do anything.

Once again, I take away the lesson that it really is better to just never trust, never love... you only get betrayed, disappointed... again and again...

C vehemently denies this, of course.

And I keep asking him, "Are you sure we can make this work? Are you sure this is worth it?" It's just another example of that scenario where I think a marriage is functional, I think it's going to work, and then I find out that it's a lie.

Who gets married intending to get divorced? But who gets married and does more than just grimly stick it out, anyway? I want more than tight-lipped endurance. I want happy, healthy, and functional. Is marriage even real?

C is not like R. He and I both intend to go the distance... but doesn't everyone?

So I finally fell asleep around 4 or 5 this morning... I don't recall what time it was. Today, I've been mostly sad and heavy, pretty numb all day.

It's just like... fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu..... what's the point? Really, what is the point?

They're all abusers, aren't they?

Even the ones you love.

(I know, intellectually, that it's not my fault... but I still feel the heavy weight of responsibility for my little brood.)

I was very anxious about group tonight...

Well, maybe not very anxious... but anxious, nonetheless.

I mean... I'm not trained in this, y'all. I don't really know what I'm doing. And J, my new helper, actually kinda does this stuff for a living. So hello intimidation, however unwarranted.

C encouraged me before I left, and I know he was right... especially since the night proved him right.

Was talking to E earlier today, discussing projected work specs and schedules. I'm excited, yet mostly apprehensive, just from the sheer level of responsibility that I'm being imbued with. My fear of failure is so extreme that I'd rather just not have any influence or responsibility to speak of... that way I cannot let anyone down. Ever. Also, I'm afraid of overloading myself yet again.

I feel like I can't handle as much as the average person, that I melt down or burn out more quickly, become overloaded more easily... and while that is distressing and disheartening, I know how awful I feel when I'm overwhelmed, and I don't want to go there.

Yet... I realized after group tonight... as apprehensive or anxious or distressed I may feel the rest of the week, while group is in session and while I'm ferrying girls around, listening to the deep torments of their lives... I feel like I was born for this. I was made for this. It fits. It's right. And I enjoy it. The fear is just a spice that keeps me humble and cautious.

And I'm happy, so happy, that I'm staying. These relationships are so precious... the trust these girls have given me so willingly is astonishing, for these are girls who have had their basic trust of humanity trashed, trampled, and completely twisted. I would hate to be just another person that they shouldn't have trusted, just another person that hurt them by abandoning them after getting to know them.

I really need money, but... I really love my job. Even if I'm not getting paid for it.

(Can I still call it a job if I'm not getting paid? lol)

I'd much rather face the panic that comes with being below the poverty level than leaving this job for another one with an actual paycheck. Besides... the grants are coming in, and the paychecks will be coming in a few months from now. I can hold on that long. (I hope?)

Just tentatively said yes to leading DV group this week as well. :-\

L's out of town, E's out of town, so...

I'll have a co-pilot, though, and the material will be provided. *Whew*. It's just a matter of facilitating.

Can I do it? Of course I can! The change comes from within the ladies, as they relate to the material. I'm just there to make sure we get out on time! lol

I refuse to even think for a second that "I cannot do this," because I can. Young or not, I've got insights, because I've lived through it.

...Right?