The Cats Will Eat Me…

I really dislike my brain sometimes.  I woke up this morning with my brain churning a little.  I noticed it and realized what was happening.  Every now and then I start spinning about something.  I used to see Great Date do this, and it’s how I finally realized I did it too.

Sometimes it’s fear.  Sometimes I feel a little afraid and my mind casts about to understand my fear.  The house is not on fire.  The cats are okay.  Maybe I had a nightmare I don’t remember.  I don’t know, but my mind is an unkind place.  I cast doubts around about my worth.. my friendships.  I chew on the edge of my relationships.  I pull up reasons I should be afraid or sad or that things could be bad.  I pull up real and imagined evidence for how I suck.  I tell myself mean things.  I am the voice in the dark.

catsI’ve learned over time that this is just me petting a worry stone.  I can spin up elaborate bad things, and I know it.  I’m cherry picking the little rotten things to make problems that don’t exist.  I’m fine.  I’m more than fine.  I’m happy.  I’m here in my quiet apartment with my sweet kitties.  I live in a neighborhood I love.  I live in a city I love.  I have a family that I love that loves me.  I’m making the best choices I can and I’ll be ok. My relationship(s) are good.

And I learned to pull out the anti-venom for poisonous thoughts.

Continue reading

Nightmares and echos

I don’t know.  I don’t know.

I keep rankling and I can’t really seem to even put it into words.  I can’t. I can’t. I thought and thought about what would make me happy and that was me.  I make me happy. Always. no excuses. no shortcuts.  radical.

I think and think all the things that went wrong, that could go wrong and that did and could again.  I cling to promises and words that evaporated when you were asked about them, meaning I guess that you didn’t really want them. were you placating them? me? I ask over and over and over again if I’m a fool. am I a fool? is this stupid? foolish? wishful? willful?

You told the truth and it broke me and you learned to tell a lie.  or maybe you were finally honest?  with you? with me?  I don’t know. You said this to me and that to her and nothing to anyone else.  Because you were trying to spin the sugar, but it’s so fragile and I can’t get purchase.  It have no scaffolding, no spine.  You’ll say what I need you to, what they need you to, and never what you mean.  I’m afraid.  What if you said what you mean?  What would break then? someone.

What if everyone actually said what they mean?  All these webs of spun sugar, spun glass, brittle, crack. Continue reading

It's been so long

It’s been so long and time took me far from you here.

Burning man is finally done, or at least the playa part is.  The cleaning up and recovery and putting away is underway.  And it wasn’t anything like what I’d expected.

I’d read a million blogs and spend a million hours pouring over preparations and debating the benefits and detractions of a million tiny choices, and then finally, after months of work getting it together and work on a theme camp and work on a meditation chapel, our gift to the playa, we were there.chapel on playa

To say we worked hard is hilariously inadequate.  This was not a vacation.

Traveler and I worked 18 hour days on average in the dust and sun and heat.  We limped wearily to our camp and often ate and went straight to bed, exhausted and dirty and tired.  We didn’t stink because the desert won’t let anything grow, but it was so harsh our wounds didn’t heal either.  That splinter got infected and that bruise just kept surfacing day after weary day.  Muscles I could not name pulled and snapped and ached.  My temper wore thin and I reacted poorly.  Traveler had his own emotional toil. Quinky Girl too.

Both of them will come to it and to you when they are ready and not a second sooner and I tried to just love them and let them come to me in their own time, respecting the process, but it’s not my strong suit and I wanted to wrap them up with every hurt and cradle them, protecting them from everything.  It was harsh.

The dust is a desiccant and it steals your moisture from your eyes and nose and mouth and skin.  My hands cracked.  My heels bled a little and I wasn’t even wearing sandals.  It was just the blisters.  Nothing survives.  Well, almost nothing.

Storms and dust and wind and bone aching tired I haven’t known except since my Army days.

And it was all so eerily beautiful. Continue reading

I Don't Know

There are so many things that I don’t know.  I know I had an insanely hot loving close intimate fun weekend.  There were trips to the sex shop for more gear, delicious breakfast casseroles and cookouts, leather cuffs, so much snuggling, petting, great talks about everything, beautiful nights, insanely hot times with just Traveler and I, and then Traveler and I and our new friend Yarn Hooker, and with a new guy I haven’t named yet.  There was wine tasting and homemade pie, games with friends, old friends playing putt putt and laughing over pizza, and a lazy morning just like we like.  There was something in the air this weekend!  I will be enjoying memories of this weekend for some time to come.

tarot cardsAnd my friend sent me messages yesterday, expressing joy at his partner finding a great new prospect and a tiny bit of trepidation.  What if she likes him better?  What if she only needs the new man?  What if he makes her forget my friend?  He went online to read blogs and found some, all ending with divorce.  Not very encouraging.

I told him honestly that sometimes this life is bitter hard. Relationships USUALLY end before death.  This is true in monogamy and in polyamory and in every other kind of ‘amory too.  How many people do you know that are blissfully coupled with the only person they’ve ever loved and they’ve been together and close and happy for life?  Chances are if you are lucky you can name maybe 5 couples.  That’s 5 couples out of the hundreds or thousands of couples you have known.  It’s not like monogamous relationships are paragons of stability either.  But with the fluid nature of open relationship networks, things do have more opportunity for change, and that really points out the unstable nature of romantic relationships. Continue reading

Unrest

I’m tired.  I slept about 3.5 hours the night before last and woke yesterday at 3am with a vicious nightmare.  The first nightmare in this little series about about a week ago and I woke gasping and trying to pull the plastic bag off of my head that had been there in my dream.  I was terrified and cried with relief to wake up.

Last night right before I woke I lay bleeding and dying on the floor.  I was in agony and everything in my body hurt.  I knew I was dying and I could feel my own heart slowing as I bled to death.  I was mostly naked and cold, on the hard floor and they were gathered around me, laughing and watching me die.  I tried to crawl away from them with the last bits of whatever I had in me.  I could tell that there were people past these tormentors.  People I cared about were impossibly far away and couldn’t hear me.  I didn’t want to die with these people.  I needed to get past them.

They’d block my path or kick me now and then, thwart my progress and laugh at how pathetic I was.  I was weaker and weaker but I couldn’t lay my head down here.  I would not let them have my death and I was realizing with each passing minute of my tortured crawling that it was inevitable.  My breathing was getting ragged and I was getting colder.  Someone stepped on my hand and crushed it.  I cried out with fresh sharp pain as the bones in my hand broke.  I cried dry tears.  I woke up to Traveler rocking me and telling me I was safe.  I held him to stop death and cried.  He was so warm.  I couldn’t stop crying for just a minute.  I have had a hangover all day.  I felt wrenched and wrung out.

At lunch I watched cat videos on YouTube and I had a brief and beautiful conversation with Quinky Girl where I got to bask in her happiness today and I smiled.  I feel like the weight has been lifting all day, but I’d still really like to curl up with ice cream and a movie that is so fluffy and vapid that half of everything is pink and sparkly.

I have a date tonight and I’m excited about that underneath my numb and I hope I’m not a shitty date.  I can’t cancel because it’s really early in our association and we just don’t have enough water under the bridge for flakiness yet.  He doesn’t know me and I don’t have any credit built up.  So I’m going to listen to more good music and make a nice meal and hope for kisses maybe.  I hope he’ll understand if I need to get to bed early tonight, even if it is the weekend and it’s been a while coming.

I don’t know that it’s the nightmare that lingers as much as the hour or so afterward that I stayed in my bed thinking and not being tired, afraid to sleep again.  I fell asleep eventually but it took a long long time.  I am feeling better in general and I feel like a lot of things are working out, but I don’t have solutions or even ideas for solutions for some things.  My mind worries thoughts like a sore tooth because I just can’t see my options.  It feels like there are spots here that have a very thin crust.  But maybe that’s just the voice in the dark.  I think it might be.

The Dark at 1am

So, things are pretty good… but I was freaking out a little.  I’ve been spending a lot of time looking at reconstructed breasts and what the hell all of this involves.  And it’s freaking me out a little.  In NOT-unexpected keystone-cop-style awesomeness, the VA lost the consult to finish my genetic testing.  It’s going to take about a month to get results and I have to start over.  The office that recommends where to get the test is overwhelmed and can’t recommend where I need to go.  So I spent a bunch of today looking at websites for genetic testing centers and oncology departments and trying to figure out how to gauge such things.  Then I spent a bunch of time last night and tonight looking at reconstructed breasts and procedures.  I had been laughing and amusing myself with the idea of perkier, bigger augmented breasts as a reward for all of this BRCA gene bullshit.  But that’s not really accurate is it?  I might end up with breasts that don’t have nipples.. or surgeries that remove muscle and fat from my stomach to make new breasts, or weeks of inflating tissue expanders under my “breasts” to make room for implants under my chest wall to make new breasts, AFTER mastectomy and a surgery to preserve nipples, if I’m lucky.  Is it just me or does all of that sound like a horror show?

And the pictures.  They are freaking me out a little.  I don’t like getting fillings in my TEETH because I hate being vulnerable.  What the fuck am I going to do if I have to spend months removing and making new breasts??!?  Deep breath.  I’d live.   Continue reading

Trusting Enough to Take a Risk

So, I’ve been doing some writing and thinking and such about fear. I posted the other day about a fear eruption I’d had. I’m not sitting and stewing and living in fear, and I’ve actually still been enjoying the happiness of a week vacation with my sweet Traveler, but my fear boiled over twice now, and the strength and content of my reaction told me this was in large part about something else and I have work to do.

No, I’m not fucking crazy about the idea of Traveler dating again. I have good and bad reasons for this. I feel like he is a busy guy that can barely keep up with his current investments. He works a fucking lot. A lot lot. As it is with me seeing him twice a week now some of our dates are spent with him working. He doesn’t have time to have two full nights a week with me without doing work. He’s kinda important, you know? So, we get also a little extra time here and there.. maybe once a week sometimes, dinners after working in the yard, or an hour or two of WoW playing here and there while Quinky Girl works late or something, or talking as we clean the kitchen. It’s nice. I like this time filling of my “family battery”. We tend to get at least one date a week and some time on the second one with face-to-face interacting alone time and stuff like kissing and snuggling and fucking and talking, and that fills my “romantic battery”. I’m very happy with the amount of time and activities we currently have and I don’t want to actually lose it. I think that’s reasonable.

He can’t really afford to take the time from Quinky Girl either I don’t think. They see each other a lot, obviously living together and all, but most of their time is spent doing the business of living, like most people. Of course I assume they kiss and snuggle and have good moments even on those days when they are dealing with receipts and grocery shopping and working in the yard and planning their kitchen or whatever, but they have limited face-to-face time and I think she has a “romance battery” and “family battery” like I do too.

a love battery on hot pink from http://4.bp.blogspot.com

a love battery on hot pink from http://4.bp.blogspot.com

But.. this isn’t my choice to make. I can have this opinion all I want, but in the end Traveler will decide how he will spend his time and what matters to him and what he’ll invest in. If he wants to spend time he spends with me with someone else, I can’t fight that. I don’t think that is his plan, and I hope it doesn’t work out that way, but people do choose what matters with the choices they make about how they spend their time. Maybe he’ll choose to get a gardener and spend his time in the yard dating instead. Maybe he’ll get more efficient at paying bills and grocery shopping and cleaning and managing investments and organizing and all those little things people do and he’ll spend THAT time dating and not in separate-togetherness with Quinky Girl. Maybe he’ll spend the time he spends with Quinky Girl dating instead. I freaking hope not. Maybe he’ll stop taking all of his ski-trips and boy’s weekends and holiday-party-trips and family-trips and people coming-to-Seattle-time and spend all of that time dating. Shit, maybe he’ll learn to just sleep a whole lot less and date a night owl. Maybe he’ll find a girl to fuck only when he visits a job site he goes to every other month or so. I don’t know.

I can talk about my concerns rationally and reasonably or talk about what I feel, but in the end, I give him the freedom that he gives me. He can date or fuck or whatever anybody he wants. I might ask him not to fuck certain people if there are compelling reasons to do so, and he can choose to honor my request or not, and I can ask him for what I need for our relationship, but I might not always get it and there may be consequences associated with any action. That’s the way the world works. I don’t need to make rules with him, even if I could or wanted to. There are consequences for every action and I have to talk to him about all of this and then trust him to make the right decisions for himself. I make the decisions for me, and I choose him, but I don’t have to any more than he has to choose me. I hope he’ll consider me and Quinky Girl, and his friendships and his daily life stuff and his family and find a way to meet his needs and be happy too. If he chooses things that cost him our relationship and knowingly chooses them, well… them’s the breaks. Right? Continue reading