This topic is so stupidly “first world problems” and scattered thoughts, that I encourage you not to read unless you are in a mood to take it with a grain of salt. Or want encouragement on returning sex toys.
I took an Ambien last night, which usually puts me into a pretty deep and relaxed sleep. So much so that when DH comes in for the morning cuddle and kiss, I’m often comatose. I can’t wait to hear what he has to say about how goofy I probably was this morning because it was a fuzzy, fuzzy memory at 5 am.
Lately I’ve been bemoaning the retired state. I might be getting to a point of learning to embrace it. This morning I had a slightly better attitude about it all.* As the digital clock stared 8:30 at me, I stretched out and just lay there. Like for 2 more hours. And I didn’t feel terribly guilty.
It’s a Monday morning and I don’t have to get up. I have no where I need to be, and nothing I HAVE to do.
Wow. I know people would kill for this. I really, really need to be grateful and embrace these moments.
I lazily leisured in my bed, checking Facebook and emails and texts on my phone. Snapped a couple of pictures of my Monday bliss to send to DH. Did some other “stuff.”
Rubbed it in a little in a text to Angel. She hated me for a nanosecond and then we were off texting for the next little while. She asked me what I was organizing today.
ME: “This morning I was researching Os. Yes, Os. I want to be able to describe to DH what feels good, how, where, with what toys… and the stupid Mini Sensuelle Point is broken. Drat. I need more backup toys. Yeah, real productive stuff. “
WWA: LOL. Sounds good. How’d the vibe break? I don’t want to break mine.” (n.b. Angel– I didn’t break mine. It broke. Passive voice!!!! Yeesh!!)
ME: I don’t know–it’s charged, green light, turn it on and it sputtered a little then dies. So sad. I think I’ll return it. I already returned a Lelo.”
Wow, so much fun to have a friend to talk to about these REALLY important things. No, seriously. I’ve never had this comfort level with another friend, and it is AWESOME.
So, to the “business” at hand, the broken Sensuelle Point. What a huge disappointment, this little baby was quickly becoming my favorite toy in the box. Recommended by Mynx and Mr. Wolf, I know a lot of us rushed out to buy one. I loved it. It was quiet, powerful, small, easy to hide, easy to travel with AND plugged into my IPhone adapter plug. So what that it does heat up quickly… maybe it just doesn’t want us to die from orgasms! It actually decided to betray me in a particularly hot moment with Sir, as he was taking me from behind (my all-time favorite way to be taken) and I was going to use my little helper on my clit. Dang.
A while back I had purchased a Lelo Gigi toy. It was pricey at around $70, but again highly recommended as a quality toy. It also is quiet, small and portable, with way too many settings. It really never has done much for me, but I think it has potential. It died after about 6 months of not much use. Being a pack rat does has its advantages, I still had the original packaging, UPC, and invoice. I looked up Lelo on line, and they were very accommodating and gracious about allowing me to send it back and replacing it, much to my delight.
I wasn’t seeing the reassuring 1 year warranty info on the Sensuelle packaging, but I got on line and looked it up. Similar process as Lelo–you had to register your “warranty” and then request a code to authorize a replacement and send it back. I called the number for the code, spoke to a very friendly, helpful, professional man (Who’s name is Peter-LOL-who did ask me to detail what exactly was wrong with it… “Uhm… it was fully charged and green, but failed to switch on…” I stammered. “Oh, OK. That’s fine. Just email me the invoice and we’ll send a replacement.”
So this endorsement is a little premature (as I’ve yet to get the replacement), but it’s always nice to know that when you spend a little extra on these “novelties” that they will honor a warranty. A couple years ago I was terrified to order things like this, much less complain or request an exchange on such a personal item (ewwwww). But we’re retired, gotta watch the pennies, right? LOL.
Anyway, I’ve come to accept that some days my little “to do” notebook may have an empty page, where I don’t have to justify my existence to the world. I have been a productive member of society for my 56 years, I’ve worked hard (two completely different but rewarding careers paths), I’ve contributed my time, talents and treasures to many good and worthy causes, including raising 3 mostly awesome and productive young adults. DH and I have watched our pennies, did not live or spend extravagantly. We are blessed with health and friends and a wonderful life. I will continue to be a productive “retired” member of society, maybe at a different, less frantic pace. But I also give myself permission to reward myself and enjoy my retirement. Sometimes doing absolutely nothing.
So retirement– not so bad!
*Part of my change in attitude comes from watching how my in-laws are NOT dealing well with their upcoming move to the “next chapter” of their lives. They are going into the Five-star of “luxurious senior independent living” but are complaining non-stop. They’ll have their own adorable unit, housekeeping, gourmet meals, activities, on-site health care, etc. etc. They can no longer handle a home, yard, repairs, groceries, cooking, cleaning, etc. It’s time to enjoy some stress-free living. They are blessed to have such an option. A son who is willing to take on all the financial planning and transition issues, such as moving them, and preparing and selling the house. And my 90 yo MIL complains that she doesn’t “want to play cards with those old ladies.” Yeesh. She’s complaining now about how she has to give 24/7 care to her husband, hates to cook, hates her life.
So lesson to me. Don’t be like that.
I get it. My blogging really has hit the bottom of the barrel. I’m writing about stalled-out D/s over a summer of college kids home and little privacy; and home projects that make me yawn. Compared to where I was in March (with 12,000+ visitors and 34,000 views each month, some days it was 1,000 visitors) to post blog-shut down (2,500 visitors and 8,500 views in June, lucky to have 80 or 90 visitors a day), I’ve never really bounced back, and clearly the loss of readers corresponds to my story getting less interesting (and my blog becoming much longer and unwieldy). It’s just lovely to have the “regulars” I have–people who have become friends, confidants, supporters, huggers and commiserators, folks who actually “know” me. Fellow subbies in all stages of their D/s, wannabes to full-bore-all-out BDSM and D/s. Many of us living the life of everyday housewives and moms and second-incomes… to full-out primary breadwinner and single ladies ISO meaningful others, as we pursue our sub dreams and fantasies. Doms who actually take the time to read and comment and help me see it from HIS point of view. I love you all!
This has been a spring and summer of fellow bloggers making real-life connections with each other. It’s been so fun to see these connections, the putting the face to the person meetings, and even the ensuing friendships. Wow. Who would’ve thought our blogging and D/s would create such friendships? I’m on the way cautious side, and DH is always one to be extremely wary of the internet and what/who lurks there in this “shadowy” cyber-world. The NSA perchance? We’ve watched too much Good Wife and spy thrillers. Still, there have been undeniable bonds and moments of candor and unmistakable caring that is too real to be nefarious. The more direct and personal connections I’ve made have been phenomenal (WWA, Mynx, Peep, Mr. Wolf, Renee, Captain, LK, HusDom…), such lovely, wonderful people. At the same time, all the “real life” connections have made me a little envious. So nice to spend a day, a week, being able to talk about everything on your mind, and to feel understood. From it I have a new friend who is very like-minded, who has my back, and who isn’t afraid to hold me accountable in all the unique things that matter to us–our submission, our marriages, our pasts, and our faith–and our kink!
So, let me bore you with yet more home accomplishments. Hey, DH said he had a hard-on when he inspected my work. It took me 2 weeks of ditzing about and stalling, but it’s here it is, ta-da (cue the drum roll), my cleaned-up, uber-organized bathroom:
I don’t have many before pictures because, well, it was just too embarrassing for words. This is the only one:
So, for the next month, I’ll know who my true friends are– those who give a rip to check in to see if I have a pulse, LOL! Lots more organization and cleaning projects ahead. Darling Angel has been faithful in sending me all sorts of crafty projects to consider! Oh, and there’s always getting my butt in gear to e-publish my books. Two of Five are formatted and ready. I just have to DO it! If you read Omani Destiny, please know that the series REALLY gets amazingly better… as my fiction writing followed my own D/s journey and revelations.
The good news is that today DH and I were able to actually book plans for September, so the future plans department is looking up. Something to look forward to, getting to visit my last 2 states to make it 50! Can you guess which they are?
And thanks for still checking in on me!
With a houseful this summer, playtime for the adults is greatly diminished. I’m kinda sorta starving for some kink.
DH’s favorite time for vanilla connections are in the early mornings on weekends. Being the sweet man he is, often, he’s risen hours before me and then crept back into the bed at a more civilized hour to pull my warm, sleepy body into him. It’s always a welcome wake up call, particularly when Ulysses is at his most rigid best :-) Lovely, lovely, lovely. Even though my half-awake body isn’t at it’s most aroused state, it feels wonderful to be taken. There would have been a time (if he had dared expected morning sex–that was rare) that I would have avoided morning sex, not my best time of day. But now–oh, now, I realize the sweetness of it and for anyone who refuses this, please reconsider. It’s a great way to start off your day (and I know I’m not talking to my subbie friends here… who realize “no” is never an acceptable answer).
Going in at his bedtime to snuggle and reconnect has been a great bonding experience. Some nights I actually fall asleep with him; other nights I wait until he’s about to drift off and spend a little more time with writing or reading. And a few nights, much to my surprise, he’s “risen to the occasion” when my bottom wriggles into him.
DH also has become quite assertive in opening doors. I have had to retrain myself on this one. I need to wait, or slow my gate, to allow him to reach a door before me. It is quite nice and very sexy.
Ass grabs and pats will always be a turn on. He does this as surreptitiously as possible, and sometimes is a little daring to slip a grab in when others are nearby.
I sometimes request a rub from him, usually as we are settling down for the night, and I know that he’s too tired for sex. I need the physical connection, to feel his hands on me, to feel his possession. He is very good and sensual about this, and when his hands and fingers skate over my naked rear, I squirm. I wish his fingers would dive a little deeper to my sensitive spots… but I know when he’s not prepared to follow through, he doesn’t want to build me up.
Alas, sexy time is catch when catch can. I am still healing and capable of more kink… but not yet fit for pulling out all the stops. But, well, we haven’t ever really pulled out all the stops anyway. Someday, I hope.
Kink I’m ready for:
- Being asked to kneel for him
- Being asked to dress with specific lingerie, hair, etc.
Tethered to the bed with the restraint system
A little roughness? Push me up against a wall, throw me down on the bed or over a chair…
Blindfolded (and other sensory deprivation–maybe earphones? Or sexy music surrounding us?)
Sensory play (the fur, the flogger, the silk, that pastry brush… oh, what more could there be?)
Pain play (his palm; the flogger, the bamboo, the paddle hairbrush, the leather paddle; am I ready for clamps?* perhaps my nipples need a little more healing time)
Toys (Sensuelle, Gigi, Wand… Inside, outside, and BOTH!)
Oral for him… oral for me…
Hours of exploration… me relaxed, him familiarizing himself with “my buttons.” Working towards the G and squirt?*
- F**ked into tomorrow…
(*yet to try…)
This evening we were threading the needle with an empty house but not sure when one would return. “WOO” or Window Of Opportunity, as DH says. As soon as the door clicked shut behind the last kid, I was ordered to the bedroom for a shower.
I donned the sexy lingerie… and he then approached me with the leather paddle. Whoa, starting with the heavy duty stuff? He approached me, reached around me, swatted a few fierce swings. “Do you like it like this?” he asks.
“Actually, can you please use your eyes to see where you’re hitting, I’m afraid it’ll land in the wrong spot…” I begin. This IS my pet peeve, especially as I’ve been healing. There’s a very large scar that runs from hip to hip and around toward the back a few inches. When he swings blindly, the hits go wherever… and sometimes high (near the kidneys) or on the tailbone.
I was cut off with a gruff pull of my arm, pushing me over the bed. “Don’t tell me how to do this…” he growled. Hmmm. Dom… but, this was sort of a safe word, and he had asked the question. He was at least now looking. My bottom was reddened properly, and it HURT.
“Are you OK?” he checked when my responses weren’t quite ecstatic. I forgot to say “green.” OK, yes, I was enduring it. But I wasn’t about to safe word. I’m just out of practice. He starts to rub a little. Ahhh. That helps… my panties are slid down my legs. Oh, this is sexy…
“Uhm, yes. I guess I’m just not used to this, it’s been a while…” I say. I don’t want to shut him down. However, this is intense, not warm up. It’s hard to adjust, and more painful than I’m used to. But now is not the time to talk about it. I close my eyes and feel the stings warming me up, resonating to a trickle of pleasure between my thighs… and he stops before it’s too much. Way before.
He flipped me to my back, legs dangling off the end of the bed, and laid kisses on my neck, my breasts, his mouth, and even his teeth taking my nipples so deliciously, skimming over my belly and he made a valiant effort at a dive. It. Was. Sensational… Yup. Love, love, love this!! I was climbing, climbing…but with my legs hanging, my torso was stretched in a painful way, and we had to make some readjustments… he ordered me to the bed, asked for his pleasure to be attended to, and vanilla ensued…(he received my kisses over every inch of his body from his head to his toes and all points in between, with licks, nips, lovely breathing in his scent. I teased until Ulysses was quite at attention, and my mouth pleasured him thoroughly. Delicious vanilla, by the way–my favorite way to be taken, from behind. Why the heck does that feel so utterly amazing? There are pleasure points there like no other… I know he was worried about me injuring myself (but it was no where near that), so the kink stopped. Vanilla is good. It was a connection. Bonding. Lovemaking. Sweet.
Kink will come. But in the meantime, this is the sexy stuff that turns me on.
Day after Post Script… “You joining me for a cuddle?” he asks about 11 pm last night. “Absolutley!” I respond. When I make my way to the bed in only my sexy lacy black panties, he asks, “Are you in for the night?” “Mmmm, maybe?” I respond. I do actually have my night guard in. He rises to shut our bedroom door… (whoa… really?). “I have some unfinished business with you… you wouldn’t want me to have blue balls?” “Oh, no sir, absolutely not…”
Yeah. That’s what I’m talking about. I love that he’s growing confident I’m available to him 24/7–not just available, but HIS always and in ALL ways!
I had a rocky patch at the beginning of the week. Plans were suddenly upended by life events that can’t be controlled. No one is sick, or dying, or in dire straight. Older parents need to be taken care of, and transitions need to occur. It could take 2, 3, 4 months, maybe more? Who knows, and it doesn’t matter. It just needs to be done, and until it’s done, our plans to “retire,” travel, and research resettlement options are on hold.
Reasonable stuff. So why does this send me into a tail-spinned panic, full of stress? I truly want to get to the root of this, because such stress episodes do me no favors. I get very negative and unpleasant physical responses to stress (like IBS, headaches, breakouts and leaky eyes), and I’m sure it’s not good for my heart. Oh–and aren’t there some sort of stress hormones–cortisol?–that cause you to retain weight?
From Dr. Oz: High Cortisol: Persistently elevated levels of the stress hormone, cortisol, are very detrimental to your health as well as to your body composition. If you suffer from a mood disorder such as anxiety, depression, post-traumatic stress disorder or exhaustion, or if you have a digestive issue such as irritable bowel syndrome, you can bet your body is cranking up your cortisol. Not only does it increase your appetite and cravings, it causes a loss of muscle mass, libido and bone density, and also contributes to depression and memory loss. In other words, chronic stress makes us soft, flabby and much older than we truly are! Study after study shows that stress causes abdominal fat – even in people who are otherwise thin. Researchers at Yale University, for example, found slender women who had high cortisol also had more abdominal fat.
A large part of my stress comes from feeling control slipping through my fingers. When I’m in control, I believe I tend to stress less. When I have control over outcomes, I usually can relax. When the inevitable times come where something is out of my control, or in the hands of someone I don’t trust, I am not a happy camper. This is one reason why mission trips are a challenge for me–I love doing the work, I love traveling and being in another culture, and I love sharing the Gospel. However, mission trips to third world countries abound in unknowns, delays, and many out-of-control situations. I’ve had to learn to give this to God, trust He’s in control, and just roll with the punches. Essentially, I submit. I can do this for a maximum of about 10 days annually. However, having met that challenge is always a great sense of accomplishment for me.
It’s not so easy to do this in the day-to-day, even though I know God is also in control here as well. The trust issues I have over my lifetime just don’t disappear easily. For the past two years I actually have worked hard on developing a trusting relationship with my husband, and to submit to his control. He was always largely trustworthy… well, perhaps not in being the husband he could have been… however I accept I’m also at fault for constantly questioning his decisions, and showing disrespect by not allowing him to lead or trusting his judgment. I tore him down. So even though he was offering trust, I was throwing all sorts of missiles at it, always trying to wrest control away. It’s been a hard habit to change, but I’m making progress. Still, I maintained some control in other aspects of my life, my job in particular.
I let go of the last of my talismans a few months ago, everything that gave me a semblance of control was released. I retired from my job. I no longer receive an income, and eventually I will need to go to DH for every expense and need. My children are no longer home or in need of my guidance (and this actually is a control I’m glad to give up, although it’s difficult at times to see them make stupid decisions). DH told me our short-range plan was to enjoy travel–whether locally, across country, or internationally– for about 2 weeks once a month. We have spent some time discussing what our at-home times will look like. I was settling in to letting him have the control and the lead on this new journey. I had a few moments of brief worry or panic, but we’d talk and I’d settle down. After all, this was part and parcel of my submission, and trying to feed his Dominance, a dynamic I dearly wanted.
His announcement to me last Friday that “everything is on hold now until this situation is handled” was a bigger blow to me than I realized. I received the news calmly and with understanding. This is a tough thing for him too. I want to be supportive, but I also realized that DH likes things to be done “his way,” especially concerning his family. I knew that my “help” would not be requested often, although I knew the support of my presence and arms would be desired and appreciated. I knew it was a good thing we are doing this now. I rationally thought that I had all this in perspective, under control, or that I at least was cool with trusting that DH had it all under control.
Then I panicked, big time. Stressed. Through the weekend, I worried more and more about what my job-less days to come were going to look like. I received an unexpected invite for a mission trip. Having sensed some disapproval or disappointment from DH when I recently spoke of investigating part-time jobs a few weeks ago, I was feeling resentful that he might not approve of this mission trip. I suddenly found my demons of distrust raising their ugly heads. I knew he did not deserve my distrust, but I panicked.
My control freak began to come back in full force. By Monday I was ready to do whatever I wanted, regardless of what he said. I didn’t need to ask his permission, I didn’t need to tell him my thoughts. I would just do what I wanted. I had my list of alternate plans. For my entire life, I have always had the escape hatch at the ready, I was always prepared to Houdini myself out of any negative or uncomfortable situation. I often attribute this to my security training… learning to anticipate, keeping your back to the wall, ready with a plan to evade the bad guys, don’t rely on anyone. To save myself.
That is a stressful existence…
Luckily, Angel was there to talk me down. Through 40 minutes of texting, I sobbed like a baby as she challenged and I argued with her like a mega-brat about submitting, about communicating my fears to DH. Why was I so fearful that he was going to sentence me to a miserable existence of household chores over the next months? Deny me creative outlets for things I love doing? I don’t even understand my own brain. He loves me, he knows me better than anyone, he’d never become such a Nazi.
So we did talk. I told him all this. I cried. I showed him that I understood how he wanted and needed me to stay in the background during these transitions with his parents, because sometimes my help is controlling (duh :-( ) and stresses him. He didn’t need an additional burden of me in the mix… and while I will be there for him when needed, I also needed outlets. He was completely understanding and gracious. He had already been thinking of doing lovely things like sending me on trips to visit distant friends. He readily agreed to the mission trip, and the other low-commitment, part-time opportunities I mentioned. But he added that he needed me.
That was major. I needed to hear that. Him needing me, equals wanting me, equals cherishing me, equals loving me. I can trust a man like this.
I’ve often heard and read about how submissives feel calm and less stress when they allow their Doms to take control. I don’t know if I’ll ever totally or completely be able to relinquish all control in my life, but I do know that I have to let go of the stress and the distrust when it comes to my life with DH.
And as imperfect as I am and as much as I screw it up sometimes, I am so grateful that I know that now, and that I believe it with all my heart. DH in control, me in submission, equals low stress–and peace.
(and… oh yea, do I ever need a therapeutic spanking! He’s “promised” that with stars aligned this weekend, kids out of the house, it’s time for a scene, which involves a very red bottom. When I asked with which instrument? he replied in a stern, Dom voice “that is for me to decide, you will not know or direct this… mmmmmmm!)
Yesterday’s text to Sir:
ME: Think of me loving you!! xxxooo
DH: The NSA likes that one.
Sir liked the text this morning. It was borrowed from a chapter of the mini-series “Masters of Sex,” which we have been enjoying lately. The clever opening credits show a similar pic.
DH: Love me? I love you.
ME: Yes, I love you!
Don’t you just love all this clever sexual imagery!
Had this on Saturday:
This on Sunday:
In all fairness, these were planned “treats.” I limit myself to that amazing cheesesteak (rivals South Philly) once a year or so. It was my only “meal” of the day. Cheesecake factory– that was also a planned indulgence, so I had very little that day beyond a protein shake and nuts, no dinner (seriously, my diet plan has a limit of 800-1000 calories a day!). Still, I broke the calorie bank this weekend, and was prepared for the bad news when I stepped on the scale this morning…
Sooo, after a week of plateaus and little progress on the “good” diet… this morning my scale is the lowest it’s been in a couple weeks. Go figure. There could be something to my metabolism getting sluggish over my normal low-calorie intake?
The cheese steak and cheesecake diet. I like this.
(Just kidding, I know this is a huge fluke, and it’s back to salads, protein shakes, “lean and green” and healthy stuff. But gee, wouldn’t it be nice?)
It’s late and I really should be putting my tired head on the pillow. But I have to get this off my chest.
We’ve had a mid-course correction here in our “life plan” and I’m reeling a little over it. It’s nothing horrible and I just need to get my bratty self in line about this. Shit happens. Sigh. But I don’t want to get in line. I want to snatch back control, because when I have control then I don’t get disappointed.
So goes the conversation in my head, the never-ending battle for complete submission. I at least give myself credit for recognizing the spin before it goes into full motion.
DH and I made a decision that it was time to retire and have some fun after many years of hard work, saving, and sacrifice. Quite frankly, I give most of the credit to DH–he’s our saver/planner/practical one who got us here. I take some credit for inadvertent submission to his plan, although it was at times bratty and begrudging.
DH is my Royal Canadian Mounty. Dudley Do-Right (anyone remember that cartoon?). He will put “right” and responsible before any selfish, personal whim. Early in our marriage when things were a bit tight (although still quite comfortable in a lovely home and neighborhood), it would drive me crazy that DH would actually have holes in his dress shoes, and repeatedly have his soles patched to make the shoes go longer. “Buy a new pair of shoes!” I’d exclaim. He’d quietly “suffer” because patched shoes were good enough for him, and his babies needed shoes–and diapers– and formula– and braces– and dance lessons… He is the ultimate martyr, but not in a showy way. He just always puts others’ needs before his (in most cases–our marriage did get a back seat for a number of years, but I’m not going there now).
So now he has to take care of aging parents–and I need to be his rock and his support in this difficult transition time. We’ve long known that it’s time to get them settled into assisted living, and finally everyone is in agreement and the plans are moving forward. This is a GOOD thing for everyone–his parents will receive the care and help and peace of mind they need and deserve; and DH will be relieved of worries about his parents’ safety, well-being, and direct upkeep. Long-term it gives us more freedom, since they’ll be cared for. He has had the patience of a saint throughout this difficult process of convincing everyone the necessity of this move. I am so proud of what a wonderful and caring son he is.
This new course of events involves putting our own plans on hold. A move needs to be made; a half-century old home needs to be cleaned out and sold; transitions smoothed. The time frame on this is uncertain. The stresses and hassles assured. The plans WE have made for travel and fun are now put on temporary hold. Surely I can understand this? I can support this, right?
Intellectually, of course I smile and say, “Yes, dear… whatever it takes, however long it takes. I will be patient and understanding.”
But the unsettled feeling of suddenly “no plans” or “indefinitely delayed plans” just eats away at me like a cancer. I FEAR, I mean DREAD not having a plan or an agenda, and “indefinite delay” just puts me into a tail-spin. I can’t explain it. I have always lived from event to event, from vacation to vacation… never day to day, come what may. It is so hard for me. And while I have absolutely no legitimate reason for feeling this way, I feel cheated, and a little distrustful now. I retired from my second career (which I did like) because DH said it was time for US… and I know he meant it, and didn’t know this little necessary hiccup would intervene at this time. I get that. I’m trying so hard not to be a brat and to be supportive. I WILL support him, no question…
But within seconds, and certainly within 24 hours of this news… I had my own Plan B… C…D…etc. already spinning furiously in my head. I just can’t face an open agenda and a gapping future of delay and uncertainty! The lack of control is physically and mentally painful to me. I suddenly feel compelled to 1) sign up to volunteer for a ministry that’s been on my heart (which I’ve delayed in deference to “US” time); 2) sign up for an upcoming mission trip in the fall; 3) volunteer on a political campaign; 4) make sure my previous job knows I’m available for temporary assignments; 5) get my resume activated for possible contract positions in career #1 from pre-marriage days. Essentially, cover all bases to ensure busy-ness. To fill up my time. Of course, I will also be there to help this transition in any way I can. But I just can’t face a gaping maw of tomorrows without a plan.
What is this panic I feel? This need to know my days to come are filled with “fruitful endeavors?” This totally uncalled for distrust of my husband’s motives and promises to me and US, when all he is doing is being responsible as he should? Of course I know that supporting DH in this transition for his folks IS one of my priorities, I don’t want to be anything but supportive to him, but I also know that I need to keep several steps behind him on this because it is not MY parents and not MY decisions… and somehow I believe he doesn’t intend for me to completely put my life on hold, clear everything? He wants a lieutenant and I KNOW my place is to just respond and do as he asks in this situation. He clearly wants to (and should) take the lead.
Just my casual mention of putting my name in for temporary work earned me a look of hurt confusion from his face, and that made me mad. I haven’t even suggested to him the whole long list of where my brain has gone in just the 24 hours since the news hit. I needed to “verbalize” my feelings in writing to be able to try to communicate this to him (it was to have been my topic during this week’s communication time– which has now been delayed by events). Hopefully he can step back and understand where I’m coming from. It’s just that I can’t even explain this anxiety I feel over a calendar full of blanks and question marks.
Is it wrong for me to feel this way, or more precisely, to act this way? I just can’t see myself twiddling my thumbs (with countless household projects beckoning me and “consuming” my time) for the immediate future (we could be talking anywhere from 2 to 5 months). I wish I could just have a total and complete servant’s heart and be able to say, “I’m here and available for whatever…”
But I think I need to let him know that I still need something to call “my own,” something that revitalizes me and gives me purpose. Until it’s time for US to be a WE.