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Taking Stock
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Sep 2, 2006 9:28 am
528 Views
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It hit me like a slap on the face, stinging and sudden:
"I don't know, but it seems to me that your life is no better now than when you were married and living at home. After this year, could you make a list of positive/negatives and really say you've gained anything?"
It was delivered in the context of a friend calling another friend on their shit, and I took it as such. I also know he identifies more strongly with my ex husband because he was left, also. Nonetheless, I woke up this morning and it burned in my mind so that I had to write, to think about it for awhile.
What price freedom? What is the chronic cost of fearing, dreading going home? What does it mean to live a life where you can be who you need to be? How do you put a value on hope/potential for intimacy? What does it mean when you finally allow yourself the truth that you are in a marriage that feels cold and sexless, that you have slept apart for more than a month, that even when you did sleep together, he would turn his back in punishment?
Yes, you could blame the internet. But I believe this would be ludicrous. If I had had what I needed, asked for, wondered about, I would not have gone looking. Yes, I was starving for attention. Yes, I was incredibly lonely.
Today I have no huge desire to exhibit myself. I also know that I can create intimacy, that I can have sex with intimacy and get what I need. I never fear going home; I love my space, my freedom, my ability to control what little I can of my life. What price all of these things? How can I set up a list of pros/cons when there is no way to equally weigh freedom and hope?
I wrestle with guilt every day. I was addicted to a man who was toxic to me. I struggle financially, paying a mortgage and child support on a small salary. I have to take care of my life by myself. Yes it looks on the outside as though I gained little or nothing.
But, on the inside, which is the most important view, I know and live what I accomplished, every day.
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Pornography
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Aug 30, 2006 9:39 am
633 Views
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I have seen a fair amount of porn on the net this year. While I prefer amateur porn to studio-produced porn, most of it, in my opinion is just plain boring.
Sometimes, a contri on homeclips will turn me on enough to masturbate to it. However, these clips often are too short for me to cum before they stop. Then in frustration I throw down my toy and hit the rewind button. This has happened again and again to me, funny....
But little of it really gets me hot. I do recall one professional porn vid I watched at a friend's house last year that showed a mfm; the female was DP'd vaginally and did not fake the orgasm that occurred, the men encouraging her all the while. This was exceptional because in most porn the actresses' sexual responsiveness and pleasure, including orgasm, is artificial.
Do I believe porn desensitizes men and women? I am not sure; I have no judgements but I do think my ex-lover used porn nightly to jerk off before bedtime. It may be true that he learned to objectify women through this; I believe, rather, that he had an inflated sense of women's bodies. I never felt I quite measured up in terms of my physical beauty for him. This may have been due to watching atypically developed and enhanced women on the screen for so many years. He taught me a lot about porn and I learned, through him, to use it at times.
I still am looking for porn that addresses my need to see beautiful visual cinematography, eroticism, and just plain hetero penetration. I get off on men's pleasure so watching a man feel total pleasure in response to his love for a woman would be the epitome of hot.
But wouldn't it then be necessary to have it in my bed, instead of on a screen? I think so.
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Tracking Treasure Down
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Aug 28, 2006 10:13 am
579 Views
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I begin a new life of sorts this week. For every door that shuts, a window opens...
Windows:
He was sad saying goodbye...schedules are an issue as he works opposite my hours and indeed, most people's hours. But I trust we will persevere and like everything, if it is meant to be, it will be.
A new venue for me to work in... I will need to pack up today, say goodbye to coworkers I have known for nearly ten years. It will be a good change, I know. But the energy required to pack up and move is immense. I find myself wishing I could avoid it altogether. The liquor store opens soon which will hopefully provide a supply of boxes. And here I go, off to new adventure; a steep learning curve awaits me.
Goodbye to this site as I strive to find a peaceful way to exist on this planet. I have suffered here but have also grown. I find myself reevaluating the friendships made here. Although most are aquaintances, I like to think that there are true friends here but this has been disproven many times, in many ways. A friend promised to create a website for me, last night. I will publish a link on here or on my profile so you can find my blog if you are interested.
A possible publishing in hardcopy my book; also possible screenplay. I am writing like a maniac, revising, reworking, adding new material; disturbing my lover who is concerned about my online habits. Maniacal writing, however, by its very nature is obsessive. Wish me luck on this journey.
As I look ahead to the treasures awaiting me in this lifetime, I hold the hands of my friends who care. I will open that bottle of champagne I have been saving for months now, pour it into the special gold rimmed glasses I bought just for this champagne...
and "SALUT" Here's to moving forward!
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Her Phoenix, Emerging
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Aug 21, 2006 11:18 am
534 Views
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It has been a year since I began this blog.
As is with most things in my life, I began it with no specific plan, or goal. I created an alternate identity to use as a penname, so that I could write about people, events, and situations in relative anonymity. I began to write out my pain and confusion with a relationship I was involved in.
It has been quite possibly the most difficult year of my life. In this period of time, I lost my father, was divorced, bought and moved into a townhouse, lost a girlfriend, turned 50 and suffered a period of temporary, partial insanity when my lover of a year kicked me to the curb after I discovered some of his sly, deceitful ways, online.
Through it all, I wrote. When I took down my blog for several months in December to avoid being tracked by my girlfriend's jealous husband, it had become the second-most-read blog in the state, on Adult FriendFinder. I was inordinately proud of this; proud of its readership, proud of the way i could sometimes move people.
This blog launched me into writing as a career. No longer content to confine myself to this website, I discovered literotica.com, where ten pieces of my work have been published since April. I am currently rewriting/revising a novel with the help of a screenplay writer. It would be absolutely a dream come true for me to publish in real time.
This blog is the best thing to come out of my chrysallis-like year of emergence. It will be a year since I began it this Thursday. I offer here that initial entry:
"it's a new day...i woke up stiff and sore from some great fucking on sunday and monday nights. i am hoping to drift awhile this week; there seems to be an unlimited number of people wanting a part of me on this site. this unfortunately overwhelms me at times...and i then feel like closing up shop. it's a bit like trolling for fish in a barrel.
i would love for the primary man in my life to love me as much as i adore him. looks like this won't happen...much as i ache to have this be. i wonder at times if i am being used and manipulated...and this hurts. and the irony is, i have dozens of men who would kill to spend the night with me. how does this happen?? in the choices we make?
i am learning how incredible i am as a woman and a lover. after being in a dry marriage for so long, this feels like rain on a parched desert. i have no regrets about leaving him, especially when exploring my sexually adventurous side.
life is good!"
Life now is better than good. Happy Birthday, Blog!
THANK YOU READERS!
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AfterShocks
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Aug 18, 2006 3:31 am
559 Views
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Angry ripples still creep in at times, for both of us. We talk it out, our faces close, our voices a whisper in my bedroom late at night.
Thank God we understand process and healing. Who knew that there could be so much baggage in two lifetimes? I knew.
But then there is the point of letting go. If you talk something to the ground, it gets old and gray and dead. And letting go of something old and gray and dead is easier than holding onto it.
He is next to me in bed as I write this, wondering how on earth I will wrap it all up. He is waiting for me to 'come to bed' so to speak. The beauty of laptops and wireless connections is that this blog, this creative conduit, this processor is a portable petri dish for baggage release.
We will go to the beach, we decided today...we have some memories to re-create and we will do it with each other. I will buy a kite; he will buy champagne and flowers and we together will run in the waves and make our own history. It will not erase the memories but it will help make new ones.
Who knows what baggage we will create in this lifetime? We will evolve and become better friends no matter what; and maybe in time we will get better at letting go.
I am turning off the light now. I hear Welsh sausage is on the menu.
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Back Door Man
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Aug 16, 2006 6:12 pm
605 Views
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I close off all escape routes, all opportunities to back out, to protect myself, to avoid the feelings of fear and vulnerability.
How easy it was to find alternate means of getting needs met, for so long! So long that I did not even realize how undermining that backdoor man could be.
In the initial stages of my past relationship, I would typically flee to find a backdoor man every time we had conflict or he verbally abused me. It followed a nearly guaranteed recipe that had served me for over a year or so.
I learned from him though, to hang with the pain and deal with it instead of finding solace in other men. So, five months after meeting, and after five months of an on-again off-again relationship, I settled myself with him. I found out later that as I committed more to him, he felt justified in having his own backdoor women, and this increased as my behaviors with other men decreased to nil. The discovery of this betrayal was incredibly painful.
And so I sit with my fear on the threshold of a doorway now. The incredibly messy leftovers of my past have all been tidied up, thrown down the garbage disposal, counters and floors washed clean with soapy water. I greet a new thrilling yet tenuous relationship, and I am scared to death.
With no backdoor man to serve as my safety net, I fly alone. Yet I can see the beginnings of some reassurance in his eyes, in his cheeky grin. He is a wise man, and has a knowing about me that at times blows me away.
I am frightened and so painfully vulnerable, yet so is he. We will find our way together, or apart, but in either case I have learned an incredible amount about myself through knowing him.
That back door is closed, locked, and barred.
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On this side
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Aug 14, 2006 1:31 pm
567 Views
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I look back behind me, under me now as I pull myself up out of the vat of goo I found myself stuck in when I took the leap to leave.
I made it!! I am making it, finally. I knew I would have to be the one to rescue myself from the muck of fear and guilt/sadness/regret. I knew that only I could pull myself up, muscles straining, aching, tears streaming, teeth bared in a grimace with the effort of it.
My friends, not knowing who they were...some I would only know for a moment...cheered me on, ignorant of my need to borrow their energy for a while. I picked up life wisdom from so many people and sources. Most never knew their impact on me and this was their true gift. Life is like that: you do the best you can to pull each other up, make a difference, give some energy one encounter at a time.
OOhh, but the rewards for all that work are so many! The light, the gentle warmth, the perfect air scented with jasmine and rose, the sound of the wind in the trees. I am as terrified as I have ever been, to allow myself to just...be...
Happy.
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Tattoos and Quilts
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Aug 11, 2006 5:57 pm
576 Views
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I went to a tattoo expo today, at the Seattle Center. Across the water fountain was a quilt expo. Talk about a juxtoposition of cultures!!
And we wandered through both areas, both at home yet not at home. There is really no way to define us, I decided. Not really traditional in the form of Sunday-go-to-meetin' church goers, yet not as far out as I would imagine tattoo'ed people could be.
I have one small cornflower tattoo on my outside right ankle. His are much more extensive on his upper arms, representing his pride of heritage and symbolism of his birth culture.
It does not really matter to me anymore, what people think when they look at me. I realized this today as we strolled in the filtered Seattle sun. They are free to form whatever impressions they choose, but no one knows me truly except myself.
While this seems rudimentary to many of you, to me it is a revelation. I define who I am and no one in this world can change this definition. Not my mother, nor my father (who in his own emotionally abusive way defined me critically but ignorantly) nor my ex husband (with the ensuing guilt) nor my children nor my lovers nor my friends.
I have always envied people who had a strong 'sense of self.' I thought that perhaps, when I was an old woman, I would be able to figure myself out, define myself as I was with no judgements, and not give a 'rat's ass' what anyone else thought about me or my behavior.
Guess what? I am not such an old woman and I am coming around to a sense of myself in my world. It will take a long time to not care what others think (I was raised in a large guilt-ridden Catholic family, for godssake!) but I am getting there and I am doing it by myself.
And whether I learn to quilt or get a large, visible, and gaudy tattoo, matters not to my sense of self and the righteousness of my place on this planet. Let me walk this earth with the knowledge of who I am and who I have been and who I have yet to become.
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Another Day, another lesson
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Aug 10, 2006 11:29 am
545 Views
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I woke up today not feeling well...
"Not feeling well" to me is a euphemism for "my Parkinson's is full-bore bearing down on me and it is making it difficult to move."
The curse of this wretched disease is, I never know when it will affect me. This morning my whole left side is stiff and shaky, and the sinemet I swallowed at 8 and again at 9 is not helping. My fine motor skills are ok this morning, strangely enough. There are some times when I cannot get my left hand to type, and this is very frustrating for this writer. But my body is aching in its forced rest; it feels like I am fighting myself.
Just this past month I have noticed a tremor in my left jaw which just bothers the hell out of my vanity. I mean, who wants to love or be friends with someone who is shaky or 'funny looking'?
And so I hide it and I 'pass' as normal. I fight it tooth and nail, the warrior in me challenged to the max. I play soccer and I force my body through the mundane tasks we all usually take for granted: emptying the dishwasher, folding the clothes, making the bed, feeding the cat, braiding the youngest's hair, driving the teen to an errand.
But every moment of every day, asleep and awake, it is with me. I live life as though there were no tomorrow, for I just cannot predict...no one can...the progression of this stupid condition.
It makes me furious, it makes me fiercely protective of things that matter to me, it makes me rant and cry and emote because I do not ever know when I will not 'feel well.'
And you know, the fact is, none of us can predict the future nor control anything about our lives. We think we can, but we cannot.
It is in the surrender that we find action and peace.
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Choices
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Aug 9, 2006 4:13 pm
516 Views
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I entered his life when he felt so low he had nothing to lose by approaching the best-looking woman in the place. It had been after six months of grief, pain, loss, anger and confusion.
I enter like a benevolent hurricane. How to explain me to his "men who belong to no-more-mr-nice-guy-group"?? The leader of the group, a well-known psychologist, tells him after he shows the whole group my profile: "You may be in for the ride of your life!"
I laughed when I heard this, made him tell me the story, twice.
I have nearly recovered my womanly warrior power through the conduit of his love. This man has the heart of a fierce warrior, himself. Already, I have stirred it, as we stumble through the initial definition of the parameters of our relationship. It is a minefield of expectation, hope, joy, and pain.
But as we act as each others' buttresses, I have hope that our finding each other had its own destiny. I will never again doubt that an unseen higher Power looks over us all.
I tread with care and caution, as does he. Bless us on our journey of truth.
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Happy
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Aug 7, 2006 10:09 am
538 Views
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I have found myself lately in the company of a man who has truly rocked my world in a way that few do.
He is asleep in my bed as I write this. A nocturnal creature who works graveyard, he has to sneak his adventures in when he can.
Last night's adventures found us at a dance venue where, if you showed up in goth/fetish wear, you paid only 3 dollars admission. We enjoyed the music and dancing very much. I particularly liked the pole. And this followed two days of attending two different renaissance faires.
But I keep falling asleep on the keyboard. Time to climb back into bed.
I am cautiously allowing some happiness to come into my fortified heart.
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Warrior Women
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Aug 5, 2006 8:39 am
516 Views
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I am a warrior; I will fight for my vested interests, tooth and nail.
If you tangle with me you had better be ready for the consequences. This means that my intensity, my passionate nature must be recognized and affirmed.
Very few men have the courage to take me on. There is something about me that make lesser men run. I am beautiful, yes, I know that now; I am also strong-willed and independent and intelligent.
After a year where my warrior fought for the wrong side, she is ready to do battle with sword sharp and strong. Yes, I am lovely but there is something in my eyes that will challenge you if you attempt to misuse or abuse me. I will no longer be a victim in this lifetime.
But, for the man who can take me on I offer such sweetness and passion that you will never forget me or my talented nature. I am naturally submissive but you must capture my heart in order to see this side of me. Very few men have the courage to do so.
I recognize and honor those men and women who have seen the warrior in themselves, who use it to defend and destroy if necessary; may you always fight for righteousness.
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Kissing...an intimate act.
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Aug 4, 2006 9:32 am
541 Views
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I have just recently discovered the joys of kissing
After a 16 year marriage and a year-long affair with a married man, I found myself curiously deadened to the intimacy of it.
Other men had noticed, remarked: "you have not kissed much since him, have you?"
In truth, as much as I obsessively loved him, we rarely kissed unless in high passion. One meemorable evening we had quiet, intimate kisses that made me even wetter, in a hottub. But in general, he did not kiss me as foreplay.
In my marriage, I would rarely experience ANY amount of intimacy or passion...hence my current status as 'single female.'
Lately I have rediscovered how deeply intimate and arousing good kissing can be. Amazing that it has taken so long to find it/him.
I was sitting at our local swing club one night when one of the women at the table commented that in the 'swing lifestyle' people rarely kissed. She found it ironic, that a man could eat her pussy but not take time to kiss her. I immediately agreed, somewhat surprised at the truth of it: it had been a year of swinging at clubs with very little kissing.
It used to arouse me watching my former lover kiss a woman; in fact, it lead to some fantasies of mine around this. There was something about the intimacy of it that I envied/admired/wanted.
Now I have as much as I can handle. It has changed the way I am viewing lovemaking and sex and I love it!
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