Being Broken is Exhausting

I think healing takes a lot of energy.  I KNOW crutches take a ton.  I smell like a trucker by the time I get to work.  I just need a minute here.. okay?

Art by dandude666 at Deviantart.com

Art by dandude666 at Deviantart.com

My hands hurt.  They are bruised from the crutches.  My shoulders and arms ache and the skin where my crutches rub on my inner arms is swollen and angry.  My back hurts and everything is so.. fucking.. hard.  I can’t carry a drink.  I crawl on my knees putting things a few feet out in front of me.. crawling to them.. a few feet more.. crawling to them.. and this is how I get stuff.  I eat on a stool in my kitchen next to the microwave where I nuke stuff.  My knees are raw from the very minimal crawling in my apartment.  They are red and scaly.  I put some calendula on them.

I have this kind of bone wearing fatigue.  I’m so tired.  I’m achingly tired by 1 or 2 pm.

I’m scared.  I’m scared about my money and how this will heal and what will need to happen.

I feel loved and lucky for the awesome people in my life.  I came home yesterday after breaking down TWICE in absolute frustration at the process of getting treatment.  I’m treated at the VA, and everything seems to be on the other side of the hospital and I painfully and wearily crutched to it.  X-rays.  Prosthetics to get the knee scooter they didn’t have.  Ortho to find they didn’t have my consult.  My main doc to get the consult.  Back to Ortho to find they now had the consult and would call me sometime.  Assholes.  They could have said that.  I kept promising myself I could come home and cry in my bath.  And I did.  I ran hot water, lowered most of my body into it and sobbed like a broken thing.

When I’d cried myself out Cleveland came over with a delicious meal, lovely wine, and even some snacks for me for later.  More than that, he brought his kisses, petting me and talking sweetly to me, holding me, telling me he loved me.  I lay on the floor while he cooked without the energy to even put my clothes on.  It’s very unlike me.  I lay there naked listening to him talk to me as I’d asked him to, feeling better and more human as the pain in my body eased a little with rest and his sweetness.  He was indeed a sight for sore eyes.  We watched goofy TV and snuggled and talked and played around.  We went to bed to listen to music and touch and just be.  And Cleveland being Cleveland.. he made my entire body feel better with wracking orgasms and our chemistry overtook us.  We hung out naked for a few hours playing around on our computers and joking about things.  (I wore a sheet.  I’m strangely modest).  And Cleveland got up eventually to go home and shower me off of him and crawl into his own bed.

I slept like the dead.  I got blurry talking to a cute guy from OKC that popped up.  I just ran completely out of gas and told him a gibberish sort of goodbye before falling dead asleep with my phone still in my hand.

I’m sitting at work typing this and trying to work up the energy to walk to the car.  It’s so far away.  And I’m so tired.  But it’s better than yesterday.  I don’t feel like I need to cry in my bath today.  I do still smell like a truck driver though.  I’m going to wash myself and eat my dinner and crawl a nice cold beverage to my couch.  And I’m going to watch mindless TV with my alarm set in case I wake up in the morning.  It’s better than yesterday.  Thank God.  Hopefully that’s a trend that continues.  Just a teeny bit better every day.

Proof In Pudding- Broken Bones

I broke my foot.  I was walking in these clogs, and turned my ankle and stumbled, and *snap*.  I had a jones fracture.  It’s a break of the 5th metatarsal, or basically the bone in the middle of your foot on the pinky side of your foot.  Fuck it sucks.  Just a quick little twist.. and bam.  I feel like an old woman.  Who breaks their foot walking?!?!

jones fracture

I cannot express to you enough how much this sucks and is affecting my life.  It’s very hard for me to walk far.  My one good leg gets so tired and sore.  If I move it the wrong way, put any weight on it.. anything.. bam.  When I did it I was walking into my house and stopped dead in my tracks and wretched.  It was so painful I hyperventilated a little and had to sit on the ground.  I was SHOCKED by how much it hurt.  I assumed it would stop, like a terrible pain of stubbing a toe or something.  Nope.  I was planning this wonderful weekend.. dinner and drinks with Quinky Girl and Bawdy Storytelling, Brick Con (the Lego Convention) a homeshow, and a long date with Traveler.  Dammmit! I was soooo excited.  I love that stuff.  I’ve been stoked about Traveler and Quinky Girl redoing their kitchen for months.  It is SO MUCH vicarious pleasure for me.  Nope.  Continue reading

Dear-Bawdy God -YES

Today started out fine and turned into a bit of a cluster-fuck and let’s just say I’m super stoked it’s Friday and when I finish work I am out of here.  Yes.  I should be working at this moment, but I’m taking a second to say that I’m excited it’s the weekend because this proclimation will help me finish this God Forsaken Day.

Nothing actually super bad happened.  Just bureaucracy.  But yeah.  I wanna poke people’s eyes out anyway.  It’s like the Three Stooges.  But meaner.

Three Stooges eyejob from stiffjab.com.

Three Stooges eyejob from stiffjab.com.

Tonight I will decompress with my lovely Quinky Girl.  We’re having delicious eats and libations before heading off to join Jonah and Traveler and hear some funny, sexy, thrilling, interesting BAWDY STORIES!  It’s at a local place called Rebar, and we have free tickets.  Thank you Dixie!

I need me some Quinky time.  I need me some lovely dranks.  I need me some bawdy sexy storytelling fun.  I need some Traveler kisses and Jonah smiles.  Ah.  It’s the weekend!  (soon)

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

Feeling The Wrong Stuff

Sometimes in polyamory I feel 47 things at once.  Events happen or situations exist and I feel for those I love in them, or I feel the mix of this for them and this for the other them and this for me.  Sometimes I feel stuff I don’t want to feel or stuff I “shouldn’t” feel.  I want to be a Grace Kelly, ever wise and gracious and good.  I have heard poly people say they thought poly made people “more emotionally evolved”, and I totally disagree.  I think it gives us more obvious examples to work on our shit though, if we’re willing to do it.  But people in any kind of relationship deal with stuff.  Humans have to deal with stuff because we are human.  I still want to be loved and accepted.  I still get scared and frustrated and envious and prideful.  I react poorly to things at times and entertain negative thoughts here and there.  I’m in NO WAY emotionally evolved or exempt from feelings.  I have a little practice looking at this stuff and working on it, but I’ll never be done.  I can’t swear other poly people aren’t like this, but anecdotal evidence would suggest it’s true since they are human.

Image

What might be different is that some people who seem to do well in poly examine their feelings and talk about them.  They ask themselves why they feel the things they do and try to address those needs within themselves and in their requests to their partner.  Thing is, this is NOT just a polyamorous thing and it’s not common to all poly people either.  And none do it perfectly all the time.  We are all, all of us, subject to pride and envy and fear and loneliness and insecurity and need.  We’re also all capable of grace and support and love and compassion and generosity and courage. Continue reading

Yours and Mine

It’s come to my attention that I need to accept the love in my life.  I had life experiences that led me to believe that there is a lot of danger in wanting and loving and trusting and believing.  I have little experience that says this is a good idea.  And it’s time I decided to jump anyway.  I can’t keep living so that I am always prepared to the inevitable fall because it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy, but more importantly because living life in fear is no way to live.

I’m going to exaggerate this to make my point.  When some kind of disappointment happens I jump to feeling stupid.  I jump to tell myself “well.. there it is.  You are a big dummy to fall in love like this.. see… see.. here is the proof of some terrible thing.  You are dumb.  He doesn’t love you.  She will walk away like everyone else.  You are a fool.”  Obviously it’s not this obvious, because I’d never tolerate such a thing and I’m actually kinda smart.  No.. it’s subtle.  It’s the way I interpret some action and have this tinge to my perceptions.  Time and time again I’ve have some occurrence, imagined the worst, spun, and then talked about it or got more info and felt silly because of course I know he’s not like that or she would never do that.  Why do I jump to cruel intentions and self flagellation?  I’m not a glass is half empty kind of girl.  I’m the girl seeing the silver lining in everything.  So, what’s up with the incredibly negative slant I have here sometimes? Continue reading

Love Doesn't Die. It Just Changes Form.

ImageRecently I saw on Facebook that my ex Hubby and his new girlfriend are calling each other our pet names.  I saw it pop up on a feed and went and checked him out.  There, all over his feed was him and his new girlfriend calling each other Hunny Bunny and Pumpkin.  If they call each other a certain nasty name they’ll have the triumvirate of what he and I called each other for years.  There were a lot of other similarities too.  I spent a few minutes kinda laughing at that.  It’s a little odd in fact that she’s my replacement.  She was our dog walker for years and she and I have had a number of conversations over that time.  She’s a pretty lovely person and we’ve marveled more than once at some of our shared history.

I admit I was petty and I laughed at them, but it didn’t sit right.  I got busy and thought of other things this weekend, and then tonight remembered them calling each other Hunny Bunny and Pumpkin.  I smiled.  And it settled in me and I realized, you know, I’m happy for him.  I honestly hope he’s happy.  I hope he finds in her whatever peace he wasn’t able to have with me.  I will probably never understand what happened to us.  I have theories and you know, they are only theories.  I know he doesn’t really know either.  It didn’t make me happy to keep looking to explain it.  We had a long and very happy relationship and then a very bad time and a divorce.  I don’t know exactly why the bad time came or what happened to him, but it ended us.  It is more of an ache sharpness of it is faded and fading.  I’m happy and I hope he’s happy too.  I suppose my biggest regret is that aren’t at least friends, but then you never know. Image

I love him.  I will always love him.  Regardless of everything… I love him.  I just love him differently.  I’m glad he has a Hunny Bunny.  I feel a little bit bad for her that he recycled our words, but then it wasn’t our words that made us special.  We just were, and she is too, same name or no.  Maybe I will actually be okay.  I’m not alone and I hope he isn’t too.

Continue reading