10:09

I am falling into one of my worst habits, extrapolating doom.

Or, maybe it's one of my best habits, when kept in check.

I don't know.

But - I didn't expect the reaction I got.

*sigh*

I don't know.

He suggested - on a Friday night, where he has to get up early, and I usually stay up late - that we play the sex cards.

No.

He asked me when I was going to come to bed (as I'm messing with my hair, as I USUALLY do on a Friday), and when I asked why, he said because he's been wanting to play the sex cards.

Which, ya know, he has....but it's not like we haven't been having sex, without the cards even.

Of course, the first time he mentioned them, he said he wanted to play cards, and I got SO excited because I thought he wanted to spend time with me not associated with TV or sex.

But no.

He wanted to play sex cards.

And, so my next yeah (as I've promised MYSELF to keep my no's down to periods when I would truly feel violated by having sex) wasn't nearly as enthuased as the card playing one was.

He retracted, and we played two rounds of cards. One. Two. I won one, he won the other.

Anyhow, that was about - a week? week and a half ago? In between that time, there's been the 'letter'.

And my response, which I'm still too much of a pussy to send - and let him read.

*sigh*

Anyhow.

He asks me tonight, when I'm coming to bed, and I say not too late.

And then...

Maybe that's where I messed up.

I suggested a delay.

Because, ya know, I'm getting poked with needles and swallowing 30 odd pills a day in an attempt to try to get pregnant, and ya know, the problem might NOT even be me.

And ya know, since we had sex THIS MORNING (once again, wasn't worth my saying no), and Fertell requires a two day 'hold', I figured - hey! We can hold off, I can finish my hair, he can get the rest he needs, he can take the test Sunday, and we can play the cards Sunday night.

I mean, obviously, he'll have no problem getting it up twice a day, as that's what he suggested tonight.

'How about we play Sunday night?'

Mild look of - what? Disgust? Disappointment? Anger? Depression? Sulk? crosses his face.

'Fine.'

He looks upset, still.

'Would you mind taking the fertility test Sunday morning?'

'What?'

He's already got the upset/withdrawn look on his face. I'm wondering - did he not hear me? Did he not understand?

'Would you mind taking the fertility test Sunday Morning?'

'What does that have to do with me?'

I just look at him. What - I couldn't even understand the question - what does it have to do with him? Huh?

I begin to explain, and he cuts me off - now, very withdrawn, very upset, very cold.

'Fine.'

I look at him, hoping for something more. He stares back.

"You know that means you can't cum for two days?....."  I ask uncertainly.

'I know, that's why I said Fine.'  Short, now. Brusque. Cold. Withdrawn.

I don't understand. Maybe - maybe he's scared of the results, and that's his only way of expression. Maybe, despite having sex four times in the last week, he thinks I'm trying to dodge him. Maybe...... I don't know. Maybe he has changed his mind, and doesn't want to have kids. Maybe he has no CLUE how important and heartfelt this - journey - that I'm really walking alone - to have children is to me.

I don't know.

But - I'm tired of crying in front of him. I'm tired of crying because of him. I'm - tired, really. I don't have the energy (or according to him, the right) to fight anymore, so why even bother?

I hate love, I think.

We go on, I determine that I'm not going to bed anytime soon, and he starts watching the end bit of a movie.

Silence.

Stiff, silence.

I decide that I'm also in no mood to eat. *sigh* One carryover, I can identify, no, pinpoint clearly.

he gets up, to go to bed, and I get up to refresh the hot towel on my head. He begins telling me about his day tomorrow - long hours, again, as usual. I don't geel the usual surge of love and gratitude - more a cloak of relief that I'll be able to avoid the coldness for at least a day. I wonder - should I be TRYING to have children with him? Is it worth it? Am I repeating my mothers mistakes?

I tell him my plans for Sunday - he's off, but has to go in, and I wanted to let him know when I would be out of the house so that maybe he would time it. I explain, briefly, Mabon, and he says......yeah, you guessed it.

'Fine.'

He asks me whats on my mind, and at first, I say nothing.

No, too obvious of a lie.

Nothing I can put my fingers on.

Ah, that's a lie he'll buy.

He buys it, and goes to bed. Single, hard, cold kiss.

As soon as he's upstairs, the tears start leaking out. I straighten up the kitchen briefly (I've set up recycling bins - why can't/won't he use them?) and come to write.

I don't know what to do.

I don't know how to handle the not giving a fuckness.

I'm pretty sure I'm overly emotional, but.

Ah.

It'll officially be six months in exactly a week.

That just struck me.

Ah, Kendra child, what will you do with yourself and him?

And, I'm debating if I even want to be a midwife anymore - which doesn't help me, any.

And that letter is still sitting heavy on my head.

Am I being too too?

I don't know.

But I do know that I will sit here long enough to stop my tears, do my oilpulling, braid, then rinse my hair, take a shower, and dry off to go to bed with a smile.

At least, I know he won't want sex.

The question is, will he even touch me at all?

10:36

10:58

I finally STOPPED BLEEDING!!

I haven't wanted to write, as I was afraid I would jinx myself, but finally, after - 27 days, I think it was, I've. Stopped. Bleeding.

I've gotten some ass twice, too - and enjoyed it, BOTH times. I took an OPK on Monday, and as I had been working outside all day, my pee was damn near brown, but I got a NICE dark line. We had sex that morning, and then again last night, so I think I'm covered.

I've started staying away from the areas other than my 'groups' on FF. I don't WANT to read about getting EWCM and not O'ing, or OPK's lying to people - I don't want to infect my mind with that sort of worry. So.

Hopefully, I'll get my coverlines in the next day or so, and then the 2WW is on! DotM is in 16 days - I could have a BFP by then! Actually, I'll think I'll wait til AFTER DotM, so I can be sloshy and shit if I want to.

*smiles* I love this point - the cusp of potential. I think there will be more sex tomorrow, and then..... the wait begins. Oh! I need to add another blinkie to my siggie over on CPP.... there aren't enough people trying to get knocked up over there!

I'm bubbly happy. Goddess. I hope TTC doesn't turn into an insane manic/depressive cycle for me.

11:03

Here we go again, gotdammit

I've been with my husband for a little over six years now, married for two. When we first got together, I had been purposely abstinent for a year, and wow - those first couple of months of sex were - stellar - out of the universe - totally amazing.
Since then, my level of sexual desire has dropped, and dropped, and dropped, and dropped - and his has stayed at the same redhot level it was to start with.
We have an almost PERFECT relationship - except for the fact that I MIGHT want to have sex with him once every two months, and he wants me in the sack three times a week.
We've argued, cried, I've gone to therapy (where the doctor basically told me to have some wine and think of England), and I'm at my LAST string.
We refuse to get a divorce over sexual issues, and we want kids - really, we click EVERYWHERE except for the bedroom.
My question is - is it - unfair of me to not have 'one-sided' sex with him? Has anyone else ever done that to save their relationship (have sex despite not wanting it) and gradually - gotten used to it? Can having sex, when there is no sexual desire, create sexual desire? Prime the pump, so to speak? And how long does that take? Will resentment build up in that period of time? 

And why am I so resistant to even trying? I've never been able to connect love and sex - in fact, when I was growing up, I was told that the fact that I loved someone was no reason to have sex with them. Now, I'm being told 'If you loved me, you'd have sex with me!' and I'm still reacting with resistance - but he's my HUSBAND.
In a way - he's right, isn't he? Or is that the root of my problem - I don't think that anyone should have the right to dictate my sexual expressions - including my husband - and if I give him that right, I'll slowly start to abdicate all of my rights?
Why can't I think of it the other way around - by GIVING him my sexuality - he'll GIVE me himself. Seems like a fair trade, but it seems so - manipulative to use my sexuality so blatantly to obtain what I want - a father for my children, a partner for my life.
But - as much as it - bothers me - as much as it feels like - an abidication of something I never really claimed - I'm willing to try. *laughs* Maybe I should read some GOOD submissive porn to get my juices flowing - which, I actually like - but I don't feel like he's strong enough to have earned my submission.

*taptaptap*

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I'm a tart

Okay - more accurately, I'm tart. Salty, sour, all of those food related words that indicate all is not well in my mind space.

*shrugs* I'm trying, ya'll - really I am. Sex once a week - whether I really WANT it or not. *shrugs* It's supposedly worth it for the sake of peace, but *rolls eyes* Ya know, I think he thinks I'm really interested. And it came to a head last night.

We're in bed, kissing, fondling, generally having fun. He slides between my legs, and says 'Tell me how much you want me to fuck you'. I looked at him with a lovely blank look (masked by darkness), and I tried to open my mouth to say that utter lie, but it wouldn't come out.

"Come on baby, tell me how much you want my hard cock in your pussy"....oh gagNACIOUS now. I was willing to fuck him, but I most certainly didn't WANT it - and I just COULDN'T get the lie out. I pratically stammered....then I snapped - "Stop asking me stuff and just fuck me!" 15 minutes later, I'm sweetly snoozing away, debating sneaking downstairs to write an entry, no orgasm (not that I wanted one, though I did fake one to make him hurry up and come), mentally brushing off my hands in having performed my wifely duty.

This morning, as I'm flying around the house (late for leaving for work as usual) he comes into my boudoir (easiest way to explain it) and says - "Did we have sex last night, or was I dreaming?" I give him a real stupid look (damn, I didn't think he was THAT drunk) and say - yeah, we did have sex. He comes back with - "So when I was asking for what I wanted to hear, you did tell me to stop asking questions and just fuck you?" I nodded, a frown on my face. Damn, so now he doesn't just want PUSSY, he wants pussy that meows on command. "Why did you say that??"

And then, I did something very very wrong. It was 8:25, it takes me 30 minutes to get to work, I had to be here by nine, I was barely awake, and really, I just didn't FEEL like getting into it just then. I shrugged, and gave him a halfassed answer. "I just didn't feel like it." He frowned - and I KNOW he interpeted it as - I didn't FEEL like saying it, not that I didn't FEEL like fucking you. He made a little face, then gave me the 'we kiss goodbye every morning but I don't really feel like kissing you right now' goodbye kiss, and I rushed downstairs to grab the last bit of my shit.

So....now, tonight I think I'm going to have to confess. Tell him that despite my 'apparent' higher interest in sex, I'm just trying to get him off on a regular basis, so he won't turn into the Sex-Deprived Asshole of the South...tell him that, I STILL want sex at the same frequency I've ALWAYS wanted it - once a month (or so....I can go longer) but I'm consiously being receptive to HIS needs (most of the time) when HE wants it (every other damn day). And with that simple fact in mind, it's going to be hard for me to lay there and lie without channelling a very bad actress in a very bad porno.

"Oh yeah Hubby, stick that big fat cock into my tight hot wet little pussy...ooohhh.....ahhhh......yeah Baby, I want your hard dick pounding in me....yeah...." all while mentally filing my nails.

*gag*

*sigh* Though I suppose, considering I'm actually FUCKING him when I don't want to now (how far I've come), give me another six months and my fucking nickname will be Debbie. And - don't get me wrong - there's NOTHING wrong with his size/style/performance/endurance - any of that. He's a great lover. It's just hard to be enthusiatic about it when I really don't want to be loved on.

Speaking of faking orgasms, I've realized that I can actually cum on demand - and I mean the full waterworks....I can CONTROL the shiver, the squeezing, the juice making....*LOL* I would actually be a great porn star.

*sigh* And we are supposed to be going to a swing party this weekend, and I'm REALLLY not sure if I want to go. But....I said I would go. *sigh* And - hey - who knows what might happen/might not happen. Maybe he'll finally fuck another gal. But hey - at least it gives me a reason to go shopping!

closing the cage....

Well....it didn't go nearly as well as it could have, and yet, it turned out so much better than I expected. I love my Hubby, if I haven't explictly stated that before. He is SO much of my heart it's kinda scary - and ahh....well....let's do the recap shall we?

I go to pick him up from work, and for the FIRST time since he's had this job, he tells me he's had a horrible day. I know (without him saying so, though he later did admit it) that a good part of his horrible day was from fears/worries about my 'bombshell' so to speak.

So....we talked. Lord, did we talk. His first response?? 'I married you so I wouldn't HAVE to share you - I'm cool with sharing you with women, but I'm not comfy with you fucking other niggas.' *sigh* At least he's honest, ya know?? And - I was cool with that. Really - I AM. It's - *shrugs* oddly enough, it felt like more of an opening, once all was said and done more so than anything else. I've slammed into his boundaries - and with that ugly/horrible/dreadful confession out of the way - I feel - freer? Hmm...I guess confession is good for the soul. Anyhow - we talked - and talked - and talked for about 3 hours - the kind of talking that's - still not quite comfy for me...hm.

Sidebar:

One of the things I've noticed about myself is that the more I love someone, the more emotionally vulnerable I am - which makes sense. The - odd - thing about me, is that I tend to WITHDRAW emotionally from those I love - because I'm utterly TERRIFIED of them using that free pass to my heart to hurt me. So I can be a very blunt, randy, mouthy, utterly open and honest person with people I DON'T know - whereas I have a hell of a hard time even APPROACHING that brand of openess with people I love.

End Sidebar

So - where did we end up?? More or less in the same place we started, but some of the - delicacy is gone. We are going to try some new & fun things....and he DID say that maybe a few years down the line (once his possessiveness has eased a little) at least we both know where I stand.

wow

Someone - and I'm going to have to go through my notes again to figure out who - suggested that we try tantra to see if it helped us any. On that bit of advice, I went online, looked at some stuff, and finally, when I was in a bookstore a couple of weeks ago, I picked up a tantra book, and started reading it.

One of the things that they pointed out was that sex, so often, is focused on the other person - that our expectations are based on how the other MAKES us feel, rather than how WE feel - if that makes sense.

Anyhow - last night, I'm heading off to bed - a tired gal, as it was around 1am. Hubby asked if I wanted some company - and while I was kinda - eh, I said sure. As we got into it, I decided that instead of thinking about what was going on - I would immerse myself in how I felt, rather than how what I was doing was making him feel. I also tried to STOP thinking - just to totally be my feelings, and to react/vocalize only that. I also had to let go of my - expectations. If I wanted him to go faster at a certain point, and he slowed down, I didn't get upset about him NOT doing what I expected - instead I just moved my awareness of what was going on BACK to what was going on.

Wow. It was - stellar. It was - kinda like it used to be. Such an amazing array of FEELINGS - not emotional mind you - maybe a better way to say it would be - such a wide array of SENSATIONS - that are always there - but normally - I just don't feel them. It was - wow. Powerful and wonderful and high-enducing. For the first time in a long time, I laid there afterwards with a grin on my face - it was FUN. Mind you, I still wasn't really up for a second round - but *evil grin* neither was he.

*shakes head*

It's odd how I get to breakthroughs - I'm just so damn slow. It's like watering a baked clay - you've got to do it for a while, and give the clay time to absorb the water before any real results are seen. So - I'm going to keep trying this - internalizing - and see if the return to me helps us out. Hm. :)

unpleasant possibilities....

Got a note on this yesterday, and figured I would actually write it out, as I never have before.

I've always wondered if I was sexually abused as a child. I certainly don't remember it - but it would make a lot of things - not necessarily CLEAR, but understandable. I honestly don't remember most of my childhood - from about 5 until 15 is mostly a blur in my mind. I can't remember all the places where we lived - and there were A LOT - some places that my mom will talk about, and I have TOTALLY no recollection of ever living there, much less the people that we interacted with - though sometimes I will get flashes of places in my head, or someplace will REMIND me of someplace else, and I'm never sure if it's a true memory, or just some odd deja vu.

So - what makes me wonder?? Hmm... I've ALWAYS been sexually aware - always. The first sexual encounter I actually remember I was about - 4? and I was 'playing' with a little girlfriend of mine during a slumber party. I can't remember exactly what we did, I just remember us being either under the covers or in a sheet tent, me talking her out of her pajama bottoms, and then playing with her girlparts. After that - I honestly can't remember how many of my little friends I 'explored' with - boys and girls - but for me, it wasn't really exploring - I knew exactly what I was doing, and what results there would be. *frowns*

I finally stopped when I was around *thinks* 13? 14? and it really hit me how HORRIBLE what I was doing was. I remember when I was about 8 or 9, my mom taught me about the facts of life - and that book turned me on. I would sneak it out of the bookshelf and read it repeatedly - it was a kids picture-comic style book, and the page where the mom and dad were under the covers doing their thing got MUCH play. At the same age - I remember because we were living in a house (the only one we ever lived in) and I would go through my stepfathers bookshelves (once again sneaking books) and read every book I could find that had sex in it - there was this one about this country girl who went to DC and fucked her way to the top that I was obsessed with for at LEAST 3 years - I would read the book over, and over, and over, and over again.

A lot of my 'obsessiveness' I suppose, retreated when I hit puberty - at least that I can recall. But of course, that's when I started packing on the weight - whoooo boy, did I start gaining weight. In fact, hah - looking back on it, I was one sad, depressed, smart little girl. All I did was eat and read - usually hiding away in my room, escaping to the wonderful world in the books - but I always tied that to the misery/loneliness that were part and parcel of my puberty years as a Muslim girl living in my mothers' & stepfather's marriage. What a misery of love that was...

There's a boyfriend of my mothers that I DISCTINTLY remember - his name was Omar, and I think she dated him when I was about 3 or so - maybe a little younger and when I was around 13, I wrote a 'letter' to myself - basically an autobiography, and I included him in the list of men that were in my life at one point or another. I showed it to my mother, and she said that she had no clue who he was (and I know that I'm not quite remembering what she said right - but it was basically - he shouldn't be in there) - yet I remember this man CLEARLY, always have. I think it's because - when I was little, my mom would braid my hair into about 5 or 6 thick braids - and I got it into my little head to cut OFF the braid right at the crown of my head. I think he was the one who disciplined me, and if he wasn't, he was definitely in the scene somewhere. I always thought it odd that my mom denied this guy existed - I never had a doubt that I remembered him - in fact I think that he was the one that first introduced her to Islam.

What else? I don't know really - it seems like such a 'faddish' thing to claim *swoons dramatically* Alll of my sexual problems are rooted in the fact that I was abused as a child - even though I don't remember it!!! Gah. I've got several close friends who WERE abused, and who clearly remember their abuse, and - *shudders* castration is too good for the men who abuse children that way.

*frowns* I have a very hard time associating sex with love. It just - it doesn't feel right. I feel like I shouldn't be having sex with someone that I love - that it cheapens/dirties the love somehow. However, having multiple one night stands - well, that's perfectly acceptable, and almost - normal, somehow. The more I love someone, the more platonic it becomes - which is something that I acknowledged about myself a while ago - once I FALL in love, I swiftly fall out of lust - and I've always wondered why my partners didn't value the purity and innocence of my love as much as I did.

Sex to me, is always more fun when there's a power play involved. I've always wished that I could be a stripper - in fact, my VERY first OD entry wayy back in 1999, and right at the start of my rampant promiscuity talked about me either being a stripper or a hooker - and me lamenting the fact that I was too damn fat to dance, and too damn picky to fuck just anyone for money. Sex for money however, or the 'illusion' of sex for money has always made PERFECT sense to me. It's worth something, and I don't mean that in the LEAST bit in an emotional way. And somehow, I don't feel like paying for pussy devalues it - in fact, I feel more like it ACKNOWLEDGES it's value in something concrete, rather than that wussy ass emotional floaty ghostliness that is love.

Incest is one of my 'nasty' little fantasies. Usually uncle/niece, or stepfather/stepdaughter. Rarely father/daughter, and NEVER mother/son. And usually, it's the girl who initiates - who basically seduces the older man - makes him want her, and fuck her well. I've actually never admitted that - it's - horrid. It's taboo, both socially and biologically, and it's one of the few things that'll get me off faster that a 17y/o virgin surrounded by gyrating naked playboy models. I feel - dirty - just admitting it, but - it's a hot, sexy, dirty.

And - see - that's about it. *shrugs* Not much to base anything on. Really - nothing to base anything on. Nothing to even SUSPECT anything on. Simply odd tweaks in my personal sexual personality. The fact that I don't remember most of my childhood I always chalked up to just natural childhood forgetfulness, and the fact that I was homeschooled, so I didn't have the 'regular' schedule of school/home/grades/summer vacation to stabilize my memories in time. My sexual obsessiveness, which turned into rampant promiscuity, and now into sexual withdrawal, I've always chalked up to me just being me. My mother's forgetfulness of Omar is the only thing that - seems odd, almost unexplainable. I need to see if I can find that letter, I know that I still have it.

So - it's just something that I wonder about sometimes - a worry that curls in my gut, that one day I'll wake up from a dream screaming and sobbing with the memories that I don't want to have, don't think I have, yet I worry lurks deep inside my subconscious somewhere. And really, I don't think about it that often - in fact, I usually only think about it when someone else brings it up - I don't want to 'create' memories, and dammit, if I have them, I'd really rather they stay in the deep, deep basement of my mind.

I'm wondering.....

exactly what my husband is up to. All week, he's been very affectionate (which I love) very - sexy (which is also enjoyable) but somehow, he's managing to do it in a casual - comfortable (for me) and open way. It's like - *thinks* last night, we are laying on the couch, having just finished a DELICIOUS meal. I'm not wearing a bra, and he tells me to lean back, and proceeds to lift my bra and suck & play with my nipples for about five minutes. Honestly, I wasn't really FEEEEling having sex, but I pushed myself into the moment, and laid back, and worked on the awareness of enjoying the sensation. Then - he stopped, pulled my shirt back down, kissed me, and we cuddled for a little while. It was Sooooooo cool, yet - almost odd. Is he trying to tell me through actions that everytime he approaches me sexaully, intercourse isn't always the goal? That would be kinda sweet, actually.

So - just wanted to make a note/remember that - see how things progress.

Countdown (count up??)

Yaaayyyy mee!! Not only did we have sex last night, I actually more or less initiated.

A good meal, two weeks of loving kindness and tenderness, and a bottle of champange. As usual, it was grand - great - had me giggling and shivering through the whole thing, and of course he was just - ecstatic. Thinking back, I think the last time we had sex was at least a month ago, maybe about 5, 6 weeks? Oh course, included in that period were two week-long periods, a week of a pregnancy scare (I'm perpetually paranoid - see previous entry for why), and a week and a half of him being a royal ass because I didn't give him any. Which, means we had a week and a half window for sex....which while it still sucks, it isn't too too bad.

I have to reassure myself that I don't TOTALLY suck. But, I wanted to note when and the circumstances around when we have sex - esp. if I initiate (which is even rarer) to try and keep a record of what makes me click. We were celebrating some REALLY good news (still nervous, but it's a bit of a weight off of my shoulders) and like I said - two tequila sunrises, and a shared bottle of VERY nice champange - and off come the clothes.

In our last 'conversation' Hubby made a comment that kinda hurt my feelings - and I couldn't really understand the logic behind (at least in my head). He said that it hurt him/made him tendersad that the only time I am really sexual (and enthuased about it) is when I've been knocking a few back. I suspect that in order for me to be - consistently randy - it's going to take some sort of medication, and honestly, I'm cool with that. But - I couldn't understand from his point of view how medication from a doctor to make me horny is any better/different from SELF-medication to make me horny/randy. He's kinda stuck on the idea that I have inhibitions that cause me to not desire sex - but I don't FEEL inhibited - I just don't feel. and liqour makes me FEEL and desire to be felt quicker. Not that I'm saying that it DOESN'T drop my inhibitions, as much of my slutting occured while I was blowed out of my BRAIN, and when I woke up the next morning I usually wasn't the LEAST bit interested in doing the deed with them again - except Samson - but as I've said - he was exceptional. Soo....not sure why he's okay with the drugs changing my mental state and not okay with the alcohol changing my mental state - Men. I wouldn't think he would CARE either way.

So, last night I signed onto a new swinger site - currently we are members of swappernet, adultfriendfinder, SDC...and someplace else, that I can't remember off the top of my head. SDC is the one I joined last night - I wonder how much that had to do with the spontaeneous sex.

I've - suspected - for a long time that my main issue is low testosterone. I did some reasearch/reading a long time ago, and the description of women with exceptionally low testosterone fit me to a T. Mainly - that RUSH you get from a new encounter - at least in women - is actually your body, responding to this new stimulus, producing higher quantities of testosterone than usual. However, after about 3 months, the 'newness' has worn off, and the levels of testosterone being produced drop rather quickly back down to normal. Each time there is someone new though, it spikes back up.

So - I've noticed that every time I even THINK about potentially getting/finding/looking for a girlfriend, I get - randier. It usually only takes a day or so - and it last for at least a week. The same way when I go out dancing/to clubs - WITHOUT hubby. The rush of interaction and sexual interest/tension from strangers (plus the alcohol, I'm sure) ramps me up to a tightwound ball of needy, horny, randy pussy....which Hubby loves, to no end. However - I haven't been able to fully - express this train of thought to him - I don't know how to say it in a way that he won't 'hear' - "You're old hash, I need some new booty to get my juices going" - despite the fact that he will MOST certainly benefit from the added juciness. So, I continue to dance around the edge of it - trying to get that 'stimulation' from others without him being aware of it.

Gah. relationships are SO messy.

better....

Look! It says better instead of my usual bitter!

We had a nice little chat last night - not even really trying to solve anything (we've both given up on solving our issues on our own) but more just - touching base with each other again. He slept with me last night too - though I, as usual went to bed first. It's - nice - just to be not angry with each other. And - I think he understands better how his withdrawing makes me feel - and he's even expressed some interest in maybe coming to therapy with me. I'm not sure if that's really what I want - I really think I need some time to talk to someone on my own - but at least he's willing to take that step with me if it's suggested/recommended.

I really wish there was an 'easy' way to fix us. But, I guess marriage is never easy - it's just not SUPPOSED to be easy.

But at least we can try to avoid making it any harder.

Maybe we'll have sex this weekend. ooohhhh.

backsliding....

He called me at work today, and apologized for being an ass. My instant reaction was to tell him that he wasn't being an ass, but I did that because just hearing him 'You know I love you, right?' was enough to make me tear up, and since I left my cell phone home - I REFUSE to cry in public at work. Refuse.

But - we've spoken, at least. Even if it was for five seconds. And - that's a tiny little chink in the wall of - whateverthehellitis - that was between us. And yes, I'm going to take mad advantage of that chink, and see if we can't at least start acting like lovers, instead of roomates who are pissed off at each other.

He's been sleeping downstairs for almost a week - it's a rather twisted way of putting me in the doghouse - don't kick me OUT of bed, just never join me there. And every morning when I woke up alone, I got more and more pissed. He was treating me like he didn't love me, because we weren't having sex. But - the logic of that totally escapes me - as treating me like I'm not your wife (your lifepartner) isn't going to make me MORE affectionate - it's going to piss me off. And somehow this morning, I kinda snapped. I asked him if I could kiss him goodbye (one thing that I ALWAYS do - I kiss him goodbye before I go to work, and I kiss him goodnight before I go to bed - I've got to be rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeallllllllllllllly pissed before I don't do that - and I think that's only happened once - but I usually don't ask), gave him a peck, then slammed the front door on the way out.

After a while, I don't feel guilty anymore, I feel like I'm being emotionally manipulated. And oohh... I don't react well to manipulation of any type. But - where's the line between him expressing his feelings, and him being manipulative? Is it too much of me to ask him that he acts/treats me the same way whether we are having sex or not? I'm very - serious about financial security - and he hasn't had a job for almost six months - and I treat him EXACTLY the same if he has a job or not. But my husband having (and keeping) a job is very very important to me - but I don't emotionally punish him for when he's out of work - cuz I'm not into that. I'm not into humiliation or disipline of another adult person. Hell, I'm not into inflicting purposeful emotional discomfort on ANYONE for any reason. And - he's not nearly as 'tender' as I am. For him to call me selfish, he's a hell of a lot more selfish - consiously - than I ever could be.

But. He's admitted that he's been an ass. And the relief of that chink is almost enough for me to backslide and think that maybe we CAN do it on our own. But I know that's just me lying to myself, and if we don't get someone else in the mix, 3 months from now, I'll be writing the same entry again. So.

Dammit. I left my phone at home. *sigh* I guess I'll have to call the nurse back tomorrow - what kind of pre-appointment questions do they ask? Maybe I can talk to her at my desk? But - I don't want to....just in case I have to get a little more blunt than I want my coworkers to know about.

I think I might tell him about the therapist tonight. maybe. depends on whether he's still being an ass.

Bastid.

Feelings

When we aren't sexually intimate, he doesn't feel loved/act loving. When he doesn't feel loved, he withdraws. When he withdraws, I feel guilty/angry/frustrated/guilty, and we dance around each others emotions until one of us breaks down - usually me.

What could we do to change this?
1) I could be sexually intimate at a rate that satisfies him.
Pros:  Some for him, some for me
1) None of the other emotional/relationship reactions would occur.
2) We would strengthen our marriage.
Cons: None for him, all for me.
1) I would have to fake my desire/change my makeup.
2) I might grow resentful of 'having' to satisfy him.

2) He could not withdraw.
Pros: Some for him, some for me
1) The emotional rollercoaster of worry/guilt that I ride would be decreased.
2) I MIGHT be more - willing/interested.
Cons: Some for him, some for me.
1) He would have to conceal his feelings.
2) I would know that he was lying to me about his emotional state.

3) I could not go through the guilty/angry/frustrated/guilty cycle.
Pros: Some for me, some for him
1) I wouldn't feel bad.
2) I MIGHT be more willing/interested in shaking him out of his grump.
Cons: Some for him, some for me.
1) I might NOT be more willing - I suspect I would feel like I was pandering to his pout.
2) He might think that I am/was disregarding his feelings.

4) He could feel loved/act loving  - sexually intimate or not.
Pros: Some for him, some for me.
1) Our relationship would be on more of a level keel
2) I would feel more valued for the wholeness of me
Cons: All for him, none for me.
1) He would have to change his makeup.
2) He might feel as if he's lying to himself about his emotions.

 

 

 

---

 

How do I feel - just me - about the whole situation?

I feel - guilty that I married him knowing that my sex drive is normally roughly nil. I feel - upset that we hold such widely varying interests about sexual  contact. I feel - bitter that I either have to live with him on eggshells or force myself to have sex with him. I feel - curious about why I don't want to have sex with him. I feel - love for him because I do. I feel - sad that I can't make him feel happy. I feel - guilty that I can't just get OVER it and be a sexually charged woman. I feel - worry that our marriage won't survive. I feel - angry that I even have to go through this process. I feel - bitter that I feel less loved because I don't want to suck his dick/give him a boob job/have him eat me out/watch porn with him/have any sort of sexual relationship with him. I feel - sad because that's part of what a marriage is - and if it isn't, it should be agreed to by both partners. I feel - like crying because I can't talk to anyone who knows me about this because - it's not how I was when I first interacted with most of those people.

Finally.

So. Finally. I made a call to a therapist today. I just - I can't take it anymore. I'm tired of feeling sad/guilty/mad/confused/depressed/just plain miserable everytime (okay - almost everytime) I look at C. I mean - I'm stubborn as hell, and I'm good at lying to myself, but I'm tired of being so damn - dysfunctional. I can't/won't call myself broken, cuz I ain't - but troubled? Yes.

I love my husband dearly - I want to spend the rest of my life with him - joyfully and fully. And the fact that I'm not sexual - unless it's NOT with him, is - irksome, to put it plainly. I want to desire him. I want to want him. I want to spring on him and kiss him and suck his dick and sex him like he's never mean sexed before - and while one part of my mind is all 'yeah!' the other part is still stuck in a five-year old's mind that thinks boys are icky.

And honestly? I'm tired of trying to do it myself. I don't think there's a self-help book in the world that'll address this in any sort of long term, fully consious way. Something's blocked in me, and I can't see the wall for the bricks.

I can't even say that he's not being fair to expect this. I can't even say that he just wants it too much. I can't even say that I am 'normal' for not wanting it. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of our almost perfect marriage constantly crashing against this wall. And it's not him. It's not us. It's me. And that first step  - the simple fact of admitting that yes, this is MY problem has taken me 4 years to come to - kicking and screaming the whole way.

And the fact that I'm getting involved in so many things outside of our house - the book club, doulaing, potentially starting up the bookmark thing (again!) is making me realize that if I want to stay married - esp. considering I'm interesting a field that puts SO much stress on a family relationship - I have to fix me NOW. I can't wait any longer - we might lose this wonderful, wonderful, wonderful thing we've created. I can't make any more excuses. I can't try to fix what's broken with us by adding other people.

So - I've called the triage nurse. Hopefully, my new doctor (and funny - I'm checking the head before I check the twat) is going to be Renate Rosenthal. My health insurance covers her (and THIRTY out patient visits a year - that's a MINIMUM of twice a week!) and - maybe she can help. Just thinking about it makes me want to cry - I'm so used to being able to do 'on my own'. And I can't even talk to my friends - and certainly not my mother - I can't talk to anyone because I don't want to involve anyone who is involved with my/our life in our marriage. It's really none of their business. It's only our business.

and heaven knows, we've talked, screamed, cried, come together, fallen apart - we've done all of that and still - 2 months later - I'm looking at him again knowing that he's hurting. And sad. and disappointed. and wondering how the hell it's going to work. And I look at him - I see his dick - and just think *ugh*.  I'm 28 for heavens sake! I'm not approaching menopause - my 50 year old mother hasn't even hit it yet. I want kids - lots of them - but - I can't see myself joyfully practing to make them - and I don't like it. I really wish I was a much more sexual woman - and I don't know how to force myself to be her. And in my heart of hearts, I really doubt that talking to this lady is going to help. I think I need a personality transplant - something external to me to create this - being.

Alcohol doesn't even seem to work anymore. It's been a while since we've had weed, but that didn't work the last few times either. I'm just - pressed flat and gone inside. I try to fantisize, and fall asleep. I try to masturbate, and stop because it just doesn't feel like ANYTHING - or it hurts - and/or fall asleep.  Very drunk, and in the house alone, I can give myself an itty bitty orgasm - nothing like the stomach clenching, earth shaking, heart racing O's I used to be able to give myself with nothing more than a few scripted lines of my favorite incest fantasy. and maybe that in itself should have been a sign - that my favorite fantasy has always been Daddy's Little Girl or Sinful Siblings. *sigh*  even when I start out interested, by the 10th minute in I'm thinking - god, hurry up and come so I can get this out of the way for another 3 weeks. And I keep track in my head of how long it's been, and even the guilt doesn't encourage me any more.  I'm smoking more - and I think that I think that'll make him less interested - but instead it just makes me feel like I'm adding more to the already tentative relationship that we have.

And yeah, I'm going to go alone - I want to go alone - I don't want him involved just yet. I just - I just want to talk for me. *sigh* and it feels so vain and so - so selfish but - I miss being - vibrant from within. And for once I hope it's just something I can fix with a pill, and not something that I have to root out like a dandelion - but I'm afraid it's not. and I'm not really willing to - force myself to dig that deep. Considering how teary I get emotionally, I - I suspect that the first few sessions will involve lots of tissues, because I'm ready to spill my guts. I'm ready.

Finally.

Catching Up....

Well.... it's been an interesting two weeks - and while there's been plenty of stuff that I've MEANT to write - between life itself, and work, hah - haven't had time. So...let's get started.

1. Sex - whohoo! Not totally perfect, but damn it's a hell of a lot better. Came to a realization over the last few weeks about my - disinterest - I suppose you could say. I'm bisexual, and I've KNOWN this for about 6 years or so. I was always one of those bi folx who believed that if you were with someone, you were with that person - and despite your sexuality - that person alone should be enough. My relationships before C only lasted for about 9 months on average though, which means I never really field-tested that theory. So - in order to remain true to C, I tried to repress my sexuality - acting as if there were two sides of me - the 'straight' side and the 'lesbian' side - and that I could repress one (the lesbian side, obviously) and focus on the other. Instead, what I ended up doing was repressing my sexuality all together - it's an all or nothing game, apparently. So - I think that our little 'conversation' a month ago gave me the 'freedom' to be able to tap back into my full sexuality - and while I still don't crave sex - the thought of a lil freaky deakiness doesn't make me cringe, either. I haven't 'actively' reinstated my bisexuality, but heh - I'm looking forward to it, and knowing that C is cool with it (mildly thrilled, freak that he is) makes it - better in some pretty cool ways. I AM still (kinda sorta) planning on talking to a professional - but with this awareness - hmmm - it'll be interesting to find someone openminded enough in this state - ESP. someone who is recommended by my conservatively republican company.


2. Work - boooo!!! I don't think I've ever worked so freaking hard -ever- but DAMN! was it fun. The last two weeks have been hell on wheels preparing to upgrade and cutover our production system. We got through it the past weekend, finished EIGHT hours ahead of schedule (cuz we fuckin rock) and so far, it sounds good as we haven't heard any screams from the sites. I'm SOO geeked. I've still got a shitload of stuff to do that I put off to get this crap going, but hey - priorities, right? But - perk! I got my 100.00 'Thank you for bending over and being our bitch' gift check on Saturday - but I haven't decided how to spend it just yet. It's between lingere, a sewing machine, or sheets - all things I want, all things I 'kinda' need, and all things that 100.00 bucks would almost cover. Ah! Also found out that I might be able to move to AUSTRALIA as there is a site there that needs support. Italy or Australia?? One thing I LOVE about Australia - they speak ENGLISH! No need to learn a second language (though I need too, but Italian wouldn't be my first choice) So - who knows where I might end up.


3. Home -whhhoooofreakinghooo!!!! First and FOREMOST - Saturday - WE GOT A WASHER AND DRYER. I installed it last night (there was a funny 'gender shift' going on then - I'm in the laundry room, cussing over hooking up the washer & dryer - while C is in the kitchen, washing dishes and cooking dinner -I love us) I was almost in tears loading the first load. I think that this may be the first time I've had my OWN washer and dryer in - years. I certainly haven't had one IN the apartment that I lived in since highschool (make that 1992 - so TWELVE years) - and I honestly can't EVER remember having a washer and dryer IN my house - I've always had to go to coin laundromats. I'm so damn excited I SERIOUSLY don't know what to do with myself. I washed two loads yesterday, and have a SHIT load of stuff to wash that I've had laying around (like blankets) for MONTHS. *sigh* I love it, love it, love it. We ALSO got a queen sized waterbed on Saturday, and worked together to put that together yesterday. We haven't put the mattress in yet (that bitch is HEAVY) but it's taking up most of our bedroom now. Okay - but the COOLEST part of all? We only paid 290 for all three items - 30 bucks (well, 40, as I ain't feel like asking for change once I saw how good shape the bed was in) for the bed, and 250 for the washer and dryer (damn near brand new - not a scratch on them, and the guy had just brought them last year - Kenmore!) I love my work classifieds, and I love my company for making people move and forcing them to sell such lovely items for so outrageously low prices. In other home related news - my NEW hard drive for MY computer should be waiting on my doorstep when I get home today (please treat me right UPS) and I might have a WORKING computer back. Hmm.... maybe I should spend that hundred bucks trying to rescue the data offa my OLD harddrive.


4. Me - whhoooboooo! Okay - the whoo is just because - dammit - I'm happy. I'm content, I'm still broke, but at least I don't FEEL quite so broke, I love my husband again (cycles Kimmie?) and - well....things are going well. The booo is because - I'm GAINING weight again. And yes, it's most likely all the sugar and coffee and starch and just generally bad shit I've been eating lately. I KNOW I'm going back on 'realfood' on Jan 1 (no matter what country I'm in) and I'm considering scooping up one of those hypnotic CD's like 'Rella's got and vibing to that until the end of the year - priming the pump so to speak.

---

I have utterly no comment to make about the election except for that fact that I was sick to my stomach all day on the 2nd, and just plain freaking depressed on the 3rd. The concept of allowing love to shine in ALL it's forms was considered immoral - but a bloody war started for no reason killing who knows how many civilians IS moral......dammit America, how STUPID and NARROWMINDED can you get? *sigh* Shit. So yeah. It's kinda frustrating though - we know that we are stuck with him for the next four years - so at this point, I guess all that we can do is try to mitigate the damage he can cause. *sigh* Shit.

Umm.... I think that's about it for now.

deja vu

"so how does it feel to be in the couple and not the incoming freak?"

Very, very, very odd.

We talked. We cried.... a lot actually. We realized that yeah, we do have options - I don't HAVE to change, and neither does he. I realized that yeah, he does love me - and he confirmed that he always knows that I love him.

Good lord help me, I'm stepping BACK into the lifestyle. I was smoking something yes, but this is CRAZY.

*laugh* And so much fun. Good lord.

psyche

without knowing
her story
how can i consicously
avoid her
pain?

I watched my mother become a virtual Jekyll and Hyde - all for love of a man who after 9 long years of confusion, love, paind and dedication, she finally gave up on. She changed into another woman when he was home, from the one she was when she was alone. During the times they were broken up, she was an entirely DIFFERENT woman - strong, agressive, intelligent, outspoken - and the second she got married again it was like all of her fire just whoosh! gone. By the time I was 10, I hated it. I LIKED my mother unmarried, and I didn't care if we had to live in a shelter - I'd take that woman over any man and any kind or amount of love ever. But she kept going back. Three times. 9 years. What change finally broke her down? Was it the long simmering grief of the first, or last - and with it the sudden realization that she wasn't herself anymore - and that she COULDN'T be herself with him? And that - I think - more than anything else buried in my pysche, is what makes me so hestitant to change myself for love. I don't want to step even the least bit on that slippery slope of reshaping myself into an image that best pleases him - and forgetting (or just plain neglecting) what pleases me. I don't want to change into a wife and lose who I've worked so damn hard over these last 27 years to become. I'm not ready to just fold and become this - other woman. I happen to like the one I already am.

I've no clue what their sex life was like, but I do know that she never taught me that sex was a requirement, prerequisite, or reflection of love. It was somethng that adults did, some something that lead to disease and babies, and something that felt remarkably good - but sex was  love? Never that.  I grew up knowing how to laugh with ease at the boys who told me that if I loved them I would have sex with them - I was never that naive. I learned that love does make sex feel better - but some of the best sex I've ever had in my LIFE has been with folx I don't love in the least - and most of the people that I love most - I've never had sex with. The connection jsut doesn't - exsist for me. At all.

And now - I'm facing more or less the same - comment - but now in a grownup wrapping. He's my husband - and I'm supposed to want to have sex with him, right? Because I love him, right? And the fact that I even question it makes me feel - guilty. Unnatural - broken somehow. And at the same time - I feel deeply resentful of the thought that I will haveto change something about me to please him - and the pressure, and the guilt, and the resentment of my stubborn refusal makes it worse - I mean - how dare I not want to please him, and how dare he demand that I please him and why can't we just get along in peace?

Because he won't change and I don't want to.

And then there's the compromise - of course.  Once or twice a week - nicely scheduled. How delightful. A onerous duty that comes at a certain time is no more a pleasure than one that sneaks up on you in suprise. And perhaps there's the issue - why do I think of it as an onerous duty? Because I'm not interested. Why aren't I interested? That - that is the crux of it. It's not as if I'm sexually repressed - I'm about the most cheerfully phsycially affectionate sensual person I know - I just *shrugs* have little to no interest in the actual dirty. Do I come? Yup - no problems in that area. It's just - *sigh* I don't know. And I feel like finally I'm adult enough to admit it - and I married the wrong man for that particular admission. So - either I change, or he goes.  And both options make me cringe.

aftermath

So. We talked last night. And - it's at an impasse. He can't see himself living for the rest of his life in a low-sexed marriage. I can't see myself faking desire for the rest of my life - and I suppose the ball is in my court - as I'm the one who would have to change. And - it's kinda sad, because in the moment, when it's all emotional and I know that we have just about reached the end of our rope, I'm willing to say or promise anything to keep him there (I guess I do love him deep in the pits of my heart) but in the cold light of morning (or late afternoon as the case may be) -well - I wonder just how much I have to change in order to satisfy him, and whether I should change in order to do it.

I mean - I know me - or at least I'm learning me slowly but surely. I like sex - yes - but I don't like it like I like cheese - something that I want to have on a regular basis and don't think I could ever get enough of. I like it more like I like going to see a big-screen movie - it's fun to do, but if I only do it once a year, I won't really feel like I'm missing anything. Through most of my life, the sex I've had has been - hmmm - inspired by something outside of me. After I left high school, I'd guess that about 10% of the sex I had was sober, and even then it was - an exploration, I suppose you could say. It wasn't something that I felt like I NEEDED - and maybe it jsut was because I knew I could get it anytime I want.  If anything, most of the time it was something I felt like I owed to this other person - fair trade for services (or kindness) given. When I was dating Tasha, sex was how you made friends - instead of swapping trading cards on the playground, I swapped dicksucking across the couch - and really - I didn't mind - it was what was expected. And even then - once I had the freedom in a relationship - and the comfort - it simply wasn't high on my list of things to do with her - or with anyone else.

Then - after not having sex (at least not with a man) for close to nine months, well - I fell into bed, got pregnant, and for a while, swore off of men - more for the fact that the thought of me having a child with any of the knuckleheads I associated with scared the living crap out of me. And if one more gotdamn person tries to tell me that the abortion is the reason I feel the way I do about sex - ESPECIALLY another gotdamn MAN (the women all seem to have more sense) I'm going to slap the taste out of his mouth. But - in looking back over my own sexual history - I've learned/noticed something - even when I was in the height of my slutyears, I never really - desired sex. I desired friendship, and closeness, and snugglies, and intimacy - and quickly found that the fastest way to get all that was to take my clothes off and spread em. 

But that was years ago - and I've gotten older - and more comfortable with myself, and my own worth - and I know that I am worth so much more than just sex - and that I deserve that intimacy and friendship and closeness - without having to fuck someone for it. And so - I've become much more reluctant to have sex (or 'make love') just to satisy someone else.  I'm much less willing to submit my desires, my wishes - especially in such an intimate aspect of  myself - just to keep someone else happy.  I've established boundaries of who I think I am, and who I am happy and comfortable in being - and - I don't know if I'm willing - no, that not true - for him and for our marriage I know I'm willing - but I don't think I'll be happy in the least changing who I am to something that - I'm not - and I'm not really comfortable with.

Maybe it is a power thing. Maybe it is a control thing. But - whatever it is, it's me.

Even still - I'm carrying around the number to my companies mental health hotline. They deal with sexual dysfunction - and maybe, one night, I'll give in and call and ask them to make me want to have sex with my husband. And maybe they will talk me or drug me into it - and maybe I'll be happy and satisifed and still feel like the woman that I am - and maybe I won't become bitter or resentful and feel like the most important part of me is the part between my legs, and maybe I'll get some sort of sense of power from it.  I haven't made a choice yet one way or another - and a large part of it is because I'm forced to wonder - can there be love and devotion and faithfulness and companionship and partnership and - love - between two adults who are attracted to each other - without sex (or with only occasional sex), and without feeling as if they are denying any part of themselves? Or am I an abberation who needs treatment to get over whatever mental block I have that is such a part of me that - I actually consider it part of myself? I like sensuality - intercourse is eh. I love kissing - sucking dick, is eh. I love holding and touching and rubbing and heaven help me if it leads towards sex - it's okay - but it's better somehow if it doesn't. Maybe I'm just still in the humping stage of life. Or maybe I'm regressing. Or maybe I just need to call and they'll tell me that I actually AM okay.

And maybe that's what I'm afraid of most of all.

babysteps

I know things haven’t felt very good lately, and I know things with us aren’t going smoothly – but I don’t know how to fix them and not break either of us.

I can’t – or maybe I just won’t – be sexual dynamo of a woman that you want – that you need. And – I’ve tried. I know you might doubt that, or you might think I haven’t tried hard enough – but I have tried. And.....I can’t fake it anymore. It’s breaking my heart to say this – but I can’t be that other woman for the rest of my life, because every time I have to fake it – every time I have to ‘suck it up’ and just do it – I stop loving you a little more. I can’t understand how something so simple is worth so much to you – and I try to love you in every way that I know how to make up for the lack of being able to love you in the way you want most – and I just fail because it just doesn’t feel like love to me. And I get bitter that you don’t seem to care about how I feel – that you’d rather me fake it – and I react in such childish ways that I feel like I should apologize, but I’m so tired of trying to fit into your image of what I should be – that I just – can’t.

I hate the fact that we barely talk, and when we do, it’s like walking on eggshells. I hate the fact that you don’t even seem to want to say hello, or goodbye, or good luck, or have a nice day, or kiss me, or smile at me – all because I can’t satisfy you sexually.

It makes me feel like shit – like everything else that is good (or that was good) in our relationship is once again secondary to the fact that I can’t make love to you as often or as vigorously as you need it. That everything that is good about me is secondary to the fact that I can’t open my legs often enough or with enough joy and enthusiasm.

And yes – when we first got together, I was more of a dynamo – I can’t dismiss that – though I do regret it, because I think that I gave you false hopes. And it’s making me miserable – and I suspect you’re pretty miserable too. And I apologize with all my heart for that – for the fact that just maybe, you walked into this hoping that woman would come back for all the time and not for just brief high moments in life – or once every sexless three months.

I’ve tried to pin it on the restaurant, and you just being stressed, and busy and just not having enough time to handle the chaos of the restaurant and the stress of our lives together too – but – I can’t take it.

I miss you – we haven’t seemed ‘right’ since I got back from Geneva – and I had hoped that things would be – at least okay for a while. And then – you wouldn’t even sleep next to me for the whole first week I was home – and I still can’t figure out why. Did I do something to you? Did I say something that made you think that I wouldn’t welcome you? Even if it wasn’t for sex, but just to be able to lay next to my husband? Or were you just too tired to climb the steps and get into bed? A couple of coworkers and I were talking about what the first thing we were going to do when we got home – and I told them that I was going to lay in my bed, under my covers, with my husband, and celebrate being home – and I didn’t even mean it sexually – I just meant that being able to hold you and touch you and laugh with you and smile at you and do all of those things – it would just feel right. I would feel at home.

And yet – every time you are home it’s – strained. I feel like you are angry at me, or disappointed in me, and until Saturday, I didn’t think I had given you a reason to act like that towards me – and after a week of silent treatment, I really wasn’t in the mood at all – not in the mood to do it, and certainly not in the mood to fake it so that you could be happy.

And I don’t know what to do. Even if I did take drugs – that would get my body involved, but my heart and mind would still be griping and bitter about the fact that I have to do something again, that in all honesty, I don’t want to do. Maybe I could get counseling to convince me that this is something that I should be doing – that would be right, and would keep you happy – but – it wouldn’t be true.

And I think that is the thing that makes me the saddest is that I feel like one way or another, I HAVE to lie about my true feelings – or at the very least change them and mask them - in order to keep you happy. And that if I let a glimpse of what I’m really feeling out – it’s not going to please you. And I’ve lied to you in this way for so long that it’s TOTALLY my fault at this point – and I can totally understand you being pissed off at me for letting it go on this far – but I figure better late than never. And I hope that you understand that none of it was malicious, and none of it was hurtful – it was all done for your love – I wanted it – I needed it – and I was willing (for awhile) to ignore what my own heart was telling me in order to keep you.

I’ve been thinking about this since I’ve gotten back, and when you asked me if I was happy with you – all of this was on my mind, but – it wasn’t YOU that I’m unhappy with or about – it’s me. I’m feeling like a major failure here – and I’m starting to wonder if my younger self’s declaration that she would never get married was a wise one.

I love you Corey – that I do. But – it hurts right now, and I’ve never been into pain and we’ve gotta talk if we want to fix it – and as much as I hate conflict and confrontation – I can’t take it anymore – and I sure you are sick of it too.

I wrote this all down because it flows from my ‘pen’ better than me trying to speak it ever could – and I can reread it to be sure that what I’m saying is really what I’m trying to say – and I hope that when you read this you can hear my heart speaking to you more honestly than ever before – and respond lovingly.

errors

I know who I am - it's just that, I'd forgotten for a while. Or maybe not forgotten, just ignored the me that I really am.

And then I was free for a little while - free from bills, free from personal pressures, free from expectations, and all of a sudden, I met me again - and I found out that damn, I LOVED me - I missed me. And - I wanted to hold on to me.

But then I came back. And I think that maybe I've been really unfair to the man that I married - because I didn't give him a chance to really know me - instead the only woman he's known has been one trying to squeeze herself into his image of what she should be. From the start - to the middle - to now - I've worked so damn hard to be what he wants - and kept squishing down the comments about what I wanted - who I was - what I expected. And I love him enough - loved him enough - to do that without a quiver.

Then - then we got married. And suddenly - the realization of the longterm effects of this kept rushing in. I would have to do this - forever. Until one of us died - and it got harder. I got more - desparate. I've built myself into a lovely little corner, and it wasn't until I remembered what it was like outside of that corner did I really realize how tight it was. 

And now, I feel frozen and horrible and so very very guilty - because I'm almost sure that the woman that I am, isn't the woman that C married - no, I know she isn't that woman, and I don't think that she is a woman he would have married. And I feel like I tricked him - all in love, and without the least bit of maliciousness - I tricked him into believing that me could make him happy - could keep him happy - could be a good wife (in his image of what a good wife is). And - I'm utterly terrified of telling him that it isn't true - that I've lied, and concealed - all for love - all for his love - but now I remember and love me too much for even his love to be worth it.

And the really sad part is that the warning signs were there - I knew that it would be a hard uphill battle for me - and I hoped - I thought - that maybe my love would make it easier - less - like duty and more like pleasure. And it's all so BLOODY stupid. Why can't I just - do it? *laugh* Why can't he accept the fact that I don't want to just do it? Why do we have to keep going through these stupid cycles of silence and hurt that I know I've caused and the one thing that I could do to ease him through - to ease us through - is the one thing that caused the pain in the first place?

And life is too short to fake it - and that's about where we've reached. I fake it until I'm tired, and he seems satisfied, and I get bitter. Or I don't fake it, and he gets bitter, but I'm - satisfied. Or - in those rare moments of sychronity, I don't have to fake it, and it's wonderful for a while - but between work and silence and general discomfort caused by the last three times - those times come about literally once in a blue moon. And I KNEW this - and he knew this, and we both hoped that love would help us - overcome it.

And I think at the root of it all, this is why I'm doubting if we should have ever gotten married. *laugh* I always wondered what an irreconcilable difference was - what could so split a couple that nothing that they could do could get them over it - and there was no way they could survive the difference - and the difference was there beforehand, and I couldn't - couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that it could be that big of a deal.

I hope he's off tonight - because I have to talk to him. I have to know what trumps in his heart, mind & body........ and I think I know - but I hope I'm wrong.