TransParent

Yesterday being Easter, we spent the day at church and with family. Hubby lead a Christian Seder, which only seemed truly appreciated by the children. His uncle and grandma were there along with his sister, her husband, their kids, and of course his mother and step-father. Anytime you get the family together it becomes a game of talking about the least desirable person, usually me. Well yesterday was no exception.


Hubby's grandma (let's just call her my Grand Mother in Law, or GMIL for short) has never thought we were doing anything right. When she first visited our warehouse 3 years ago, where we make and distribute our products, she said that we were pissing our money away and Hubby should be working for someone and saving for retirement. We are a great disappointment to her. She's in her 80's, cranky as all get out, and not afraid to tell anyone her unsolicited opinions. She just asks questions and retorts with all the flaws in one's thinking.

So really it should have come to no surprise when she went on a tirade against me at dinner. I was blindsided by it. She asked if we still had that RV (we got rid of it...unwillingly) and I told her no but that I was thinking about getting a smaller, van-like version of an RV for my mobile nail business. She started asking questions in her usual grumpy, I'm-out-for-blood manner. How was I going to make any money starting a new business? I have an assistant; so why would I pay her for work I should be doing anyway? I am spending money on things when I need to be keeping my business going. I shouldn't have an assistant. I should be doing the work. After all, my first business isn't making me rich. How am I going to buy a house when I don't have any money? She went on about how I'm "pissing" my money away and why am I not saving it and blah blah blah. I forgot about the incident at the warehouse until that moment. But I was in too much shock to tell her where to stick it.

Hubby was not at the table when this was going on. MIL only heard the last part of the conversation, so she didn't say anything. SIL and her husband were across the table, but they just kept their mouths shut. No one came to my defense. I had no witty comebacks and everything I said sounded like I was on the defense, which of course I was.

To drive her point home, GMIL started asking SIL about what she's doing. SIL is going to school full time to become a physical therapist, a doctorate degree. She stayed at home with her kids until they both started going to school full time and then decided to further her own education. She married rich. Her husband has an amazing job with lots of benefits and a huge salary. Because his job takes him from home a lot, SIL is following in the footsteps of her mother and grandma; she is in charge...of EVERYTHING. GMIL sounded like she was going to go on the warpath with SIL, but SIL answered all the questions correctly. When it came to questions of the kids, her homework, and even the sneaky one about who cleans the house, she passed with flying colors.

When it came time for GMIL to leave, she half hugged me and Hubby and said good-bye. She spoke with SIL and her husband loud enough to make sure I heard her say "Good-bye. Love ya. You guys are doing a great job!" to each of them separately. She had a point to make and by golly she was going to make it.

After she left, MIL was speaking with SIL about the incident with an "Oh my goodness! Did you hear her???" She made mention that she was glad she wasn't the target this time. SIL tried to make sure I was not angry with her over it. Of course not. Why would I be angry with Princess SIL? She's got money and ambition and does everything right. I struggle financially, am the least motivated person I know, and am the blackest sheep in the family. It's not her fault she's perfect. It is her fault, however, that she has no spine. None of the women in the family do except for the primary matriarch. And me. That get's me into trouble. A lot.

Hubby and I spoke about it on the way home. He just kept saying that that's who they are; a bunch of miserable, cranky women. He felt bad he wasn't there to stick up for me. He also reminded me that I need to not be so open about our lives around his family. They like to use anything we say against us. I reminded him of what his own mother said just a few weeks ago to my assistant while they were away at a trade show. MIL told her that my SIL does everything right and she adores her children.

Later, after we put the kiddos to bed, Hubby went on a motorcycle ride. He likes to get out every once in a while to go think. When he got back, he said something to me that I am still in shock over. He apologized to me for not validating my feelings , for not being there to stick up for me, and for not being transparent about his feelings (I thought he was just talking about this particular situation, but in writing this realized that he was speaking of the trouble I've always seen with his mother.). He responded to the it with a wall, when really he was very hurt by what had happened. He finds it incredibly unfair that his sister is treated like a princess while we are practically shunned. His mother is always openly proud of his sister, and never of him. He is hurt by it. He just kept saying that she loved us just the same, it's just that we lived closer so she didn't miss us as much as her daughter (who lives a whole hour away, and who's kids she sees more than ours). MIL doesn't realize that we moved here to be closer to family and that she's making us regret our decision.

He brought up the fact that we do not treat our daughter any better or worse than our son. We do not praise our girl and put down our boy. They are equals, and as such have the same love from us. I cuddle just as much with one as the other. I am stern with both of them equally. We have the same expectations of each of them; to strive to be the best they can, to be respectful, truthful, and kind.

But Hubby's family is very conditional with their love. I do not meet their requirements. I'm an obligation to be put up with. Now, if I were to stomp all over Hubby, make him work for the "man", dinner on the table at 6 every night, perfect children, own my own perfectly clean house...well then I might stack up. But Hubby didn't marry a spineless man-hater. He married me; strong-willed, messy, honest, pull-no-punches, fight-for-the-underdog me and all my imperfections. He loves me just the way I am. That's good because I ain't changing for anybody except myself. And I kinda like me, even if his family doesn't.

Still, it would be so nice to have family that we didn't have to be on our guard with. But Hubby being transparent with me and his feelings has just made a huge difference in me. I feel empowered. I feel like my feelings are justified. I also feel like crying. I think it's the combination of relief that I'm not (completely) crazy and sorrow for Hubby. He refused to see what I have been pointing out all along, but not because it wasn't true. It was because he didn't want to accept the pain that came with that truth. How could a mother love one child over another. It doesn't seem fathomable to us that would never dream of it. So how could it be? We don't know... We also don't know how to deal with it.

Update: Hubby says he is sure his mother loves him, but it's how she treats me and the kids that hurts the most.

See how much I have to talk to my therapist about today?

(((hugs)))

The Post With No Name

I have been thinking about this post for a while, not being sure what I was going to write. I think it has something to do with ttwd not being what I think it should be right now. There is no "back in the saddle", at least not for Hubby. While he is still HoH, he is extremely gentle and I am definitely not TiH. All our spanking has been for fun and games. He likes the wiggle my butt gets going after being paddled intensely. But it's not for discipline. And I'm sort of okay with that.

When I "came back" to my old self, I immediately started reading up on everything I missed in DDland. I saw that there was a new DD contract and I was rearin' to go. When Hubby asked what I was looking at, I told him and he shook his head. He said that he doesn't want to go back to being strict. Sigh...

So where do I go from here? I guess I don't. I'll keep doing what we are doing, wishing we were doing what y'all are doing. I'll keep reading and learning and listening and sharing. My posts will probably be pretty boring and vanilla, but it's what I've got and I'm not going anywhere. I love you all. And even if I can't have what you have, I am not willing to move on. I like you all too much.

So with all that said, I guess I'm left with this; whatever happens happens. No stress. No sweat. C'est la vie.

On the not so sad front, my kids are doing well. We are all healthy. Hubby's business is signing some big contracts which means no more stressing over money for a while. My business is going okay, but sales are really slow and we had to lay off a few people. I am working on key accounts to try to bring us to the next level.

After Easter I plan to go back on my diet and exercise. Hubby wants to join tae kwon-do and asked if I wanted to as well. I'm not so sure about that, but maybe. The kids have been doing martial arts after school, both Judo and Tae Kwon-do. He thinks it would be great to spar with the kiddos. I'm a lover not a fighter. ;)

I will have my nail license soon. Everyone who sees my nails wants me to do theirs. I will have a pretty lucrative, albeit very part-time, career. I want to make a name for myself as the lady who does the amazing nails in our area. I'm also looking forward to a day each week with the old ladies. I plan to volunteer 1 day a week at a local assisted care facility.

Other than all that, there is not much going on that you don't already do yourselves; taking care of kids, running them around, meals, tv, guests, holidays, spring break camp, work, sleep...Just no D in my DD.

Maybe we'll circle round. Maybe we won't. I'm not upset, frustrated, or depressed. I'm not angry. I'm at peace with it for now.

Have a wonderful Easter!

(((hugs)))

Lucy! You Got Some ‘Splainin’ to do!

Oh goodness...where to even start...

First off, I apologize for going AWOL and not responding to anything or anyone. It was never my intention to abandon everyone and everything. I am so sorry. Now let me 'splain...

In October, I got a Mirena IUD put in to control my menstrual bleeding. The Mirena contains a small amount of progesterone which releases constantly, keeping the uterine lining to thin to support a pregnancy. But I didn't get it for birth control. I couldn't get pregnant anyway because I have PCOS and it would require surgery to drill holes in my ovaries as well as medication to encourage ovulation. I just needed to not bleed half to death every month. My monthly thing was keeping me trapped in my home for 3 days at a time. I was going to have an endometrial ablation, but thought the Mirena would be less invasive and definitely less expensive. Boy was I wrong!

Since getting the Mirena, I did nothing but spot constantly and my attitude changed completely. The little bit of hormone in the IUD caused me to become a complete B! I could feel the changes, but I couldn't do anything about it. I was a prisoner.

And then it got worse. The world was spiraling out of control. I became further and further detached from people. The only comfort I could feel was that of snuggling my children. I started going to school and, even though I promised I would work 3 days a week, I didn't. I lied more. I held back. I took offense. I justified. I became angry. I ignored. I was an insensitive, self-absorbed B. Hubby and I actually got into a fight, and we NEVER fight. He's called my by my name instead of my nickname more times than I can count. I totally deserved a hide tanning literally every day. But he put up with me. He didn't demand anything. Yet he definitely got the short end of the deal. Even as I'm writing this, I'm realizing what I've done more and more. It's been horrible. So many times he lamented that he wanted his wife back.

The fix? Well, remove the damn thing! Right? Uht-oh... Houston, we have a problem! The string that is attached to the IUD has disappeared. The doctor couldn't find it. No string? No fix. Ugh! What's the next step? Surgery. Oh yay. Plans were made to surgically remove the IUD, do a D & C, do the ablation, and then tie my tubes (just in case). It was going to be expensive. But we were willing to do anything at this point. We had some financial hiccups, being that it was a new year and that meant I had to pay a $2500 deductible. And then a friend at school suggested that I look into doing the LSH procedure. This would remove my uterus and keep my ovaries and cervix in tact. Sounded great to me.

I did worry about the finality of it all. No uterus means no chance of pregnancy. Even though I wasn't planning on having any more kidlets, I wasn't planning on not being able to  either. I know that doesn't make a whole lotta sense. But I couldn't get pregnant anyway, right? Well not without serious medical intervention, no. But there was the chance. Enter the understanding of levels of finality. Getting an ablation meant no more bleeding, most likely. Having my tubes tied meant no eggs getting fertilized, but it could be reversed. But once they take out your uterus, there is no reversing that. It final. Zero chance. And I thought I would grieve that.

I had the surgery on March 5th. Today I feel like my old self. I have such a mixture of emotions. First of all, I'm horny as all get out. Holy cow! When is the last time I had sex anyway? Second, I'm sorry. My heart hurts for all the hurt I caused. I have been apologizing to everyone all day, beginning with Hubby. If I could get a spanking today, I would gladly take it. I deserve it. But recovery is a long process and it will be a couple weeks before that can happen. Third, I want to make amends. I want to please Hubby. I want to start doing things right again.

Of course, all this means that I am back. No more ignoring my blog and all the friends that I've made. I'm so sorry to all of you for abandoning and ignoring you. It won't happen again. I promise.

(((hugs)))

A Bee in My Bonnet & This Means War

I am in a mood of sorts as of late. Call it a cranky mood. Call it a I-can't-remember-the-last-time-I-had-sex mood. Whatever...

So we don't watch the news in our home. We detest it. It's nothing but murder and weather and I can get the weather on my iPhone thank-you-very-much. Don't be surprised by my lack of knowledge of current events. So apparently there is this thing going on in the Middle East...who knew? Seriously, isn't there always something going on there? Well, now my 5 year old daughter knows too. How does she know, you ask?

There is a little boy in our neighborhood. He's about 8 and he plays with my son, who's 7, and my daughter. They race around the neighborhood on each other's scooters and bikes and what have you. It's a quiet place with very nice neighbors all around. But the boy's grandmother is something else. She's, shall we say...umm.... charismatic. She once told me that she watches the news and scours the internet for signs, like earthquakes, that will point to the coming of Christ and that she's in a group that concentrates on the information and shares it. Yeah...ummm... We are Christian. We believe that Jesus died for us. We fellowship with other Christians. We share our faith. We love. But we DON'T scare and alienate other people with our beliefs. This woman told my daughter there was going to be a big war. She's 5! She doesn't need to know what's going on outside her little world. Right now, she needs to concentrate on being 5, going to school, making friends, not being bossy to everyone, and just be a little girl. She does not need to have her innocence shattered and to have nightmares because of an old woman that can't keep her damn mouth shut. Okay...maybe I am a little more pissed about this that I thought. Deep breath...

So in my not-watching-the-news life, I still come across the news on the radio. None of it is very bad stuff. It's all pretty much the stuff they should show on the real news and keep the sensationalism out. Apparently Hostess, makers of high caloric but very yummy snacks, are going bankrupt. While I am glad the temptation will be removed from my sight, I will dearly miss my Suzie Q's, even thought I wouldn't be able to eat them until next year. No more for me! I am so sad.

I got up this morning to see my kids watching the news. Goofy children! News is not for kids. News is for people who like reality TV shows. No offense... I'm just not a fan of any reality show that promotes hostility, encourages promiscuity, or chooses to reveal the worst in people for ratings and the almighty dollar. I say a big NO to shows like Survivor, the Bachelor/Bachelorette, and America's Next Top Model, as well as shows that revolve around idiots like the Kardashian's. Ugh...

I really need to get laid. And spanked apparently.

(((hugs)))

No Comment

HOLY COW!!! Where the heck have I been??? Well, let me tell you...I have gone completely insane lately.

First of all, I have been reading y'all's posts...well, until the past week. I found that while I loved the writing, I just had nothing intelligent to write back, so I didn't comment. That lead to some introspection about why I was feeling too inadequate to comment, which lead to me saying "screw it", and some of you emailing me to ask if everything was okay. Yes, everything is okay. I've just been inadequate and very busy.

I decided to go to school to become a nail tech. WHAT?!?!?! But you already have your own successful business and a fabulous Hubby and two beautiful little people... Aren't you too busy to go to school right now?

Yes. Yes I am. But, I'm doing it anyway. Without a creative outlet, I have a hard time coping with the rest of my life. Weird, huh? I'm a much happier person when I'm doing something crafty/girly/beady/knitty/etc-y. And you know what? I'm having fun. I'm meeting some wonderful people and I'm having a great time learning how to put on tips and do acrylics and gels, as well as all the steps to manis and pedis. Best of all, it's taking my mind off crappy things that are happening.

Crappy stuff happens to you too? Huh... I guess we can't be immune to it. I tell you what though...Ignorance is bliss. I'm much happier not knowing things. If the world is going to hell in a hand-basket, I have no desire to know. I don't watch the news. I don't read the paper. My employees tell me stuff sometimes. Really, I'm good not knowing.

Back to other things...Why am I going to school? Because I want to be able to volunteer my time at nursing homes/care facilities and do manis on old ladies and talk with them about the good ol' days. I have a soft spot for them.

And what is happening with DD? Nothing. We are just kind of back to normal. Almost like it was a phase. Don't get me wrong, some things have changed a lot. Hubby is still HoH. But my submissive nature mixed with his kindheartedness means that there is no 2nd D. There's just the first one mixed with some erotic spanking on occasion (if I ever get off my stupid period! I swear that ever since I got this IUD, I've been spotting or ragging the entire time. It's been almost 2 months!). That's what makes this ttwd I guess. I'm done trying to change him. He will change when he thinks it's time to and no sooner. He is in charge after all.

It is time to put my babies to bed. I hope you all are having a good night. I promise I will try to comment on your posts, even if it is just to give you ((hugs)).

A Drunk by Morning, the Tooth Fairy by Night

Yeah! You read that right! I was DRUNK this morning. Be forewarned: This part of the post contains TMI material. It's girlie issues, so read at your own risk.

About 5 weeks ago, I went to see my OB/GYN to get an IUD placed. The IUD is not for birth control. I have fertility issues that prevent pregnancy. It's to help control heavy menstrual bleeding. My period lasts 7 days and the first 3 I can hardly leave the house. The IUD should vastly lessen my period within 6 months. Yay!

So I went to get the IUD placed the first time and they couldn't get it in. My body should really be for the record books for the amount of things that should work but don't and vice versa. They even tried moving me to the ultrasound room so they could look inside as they were inserting it. It was an absolutely painful no-go. That is one of the worst pains ever (comparable to the time I got a cortisone shot in my ear drum). I was screaming to the point that the doctor finally stopped, I think so I wouldn't scare his other patients.

It took 5 weeks to get another appointment. We had joked after the first attempts failed that it would be better if I had pain relief, or maybe even was drunk. Well, it so turned out that Hubby is far, far away and can't help me with the kids, so I couldn't take any meds because they would knock me out for the whole day (Valium and Xanax don't work on me anyway, so I would have to take Lorazepam). My only other option was to get drunk and I would be fine in a couple hours. I asked the nurse about it and she said it would be fine as long as someone else was driving. Well duh! I may be disobedient at times, but I'm not an idiot.

This morning I showed up to work with a fifth of Fireball (cinnamon whiskey) in hand and sat down with the crew while I drank. One of my employees was nice enough to take me to my appointment. It seemed so wrong to be drunk when it was still daylight. I usually reserve that sort of behavior for after the kids go to bed. I got in to my appointment and while it still hurt like the dickens, it's in and all is well. Apparently I have a wicked 90° angle they had to maneuver.

Confession: I decided to drink an iced grande salted caramel mocha (with caffeine) and a coke after all was done. My reasoning was 2 fold; 1, I haven't had caffeine in several days, so it would help keep me awake after I came down from my drunken bliss. I couldn't afford to fall asleep at work. And 2, I'm not having any tomorrow and I'm not picking up the habit addiction again. It's not like I'm going to ever have need to drink that early in the day again and not have help with the kids. Yes, I've told Hubby about it already. He's okay with it, although he thinks I could've found other means to stay awake. I'm not sure what other means he means, but pinching myself or trying to stand up and type wouldn't have worked. I would have just driven home and napped and gotten absolutely nothing done and our employees wouldn't get paid and they would be mad at me. I stand by my decision. That's all I have to say about that...

The day went by fast and I had to get the kids and go back to work. Then we got a pizza and went home to do homework. After all the kiddos got to video-chat with Daddy, they played in their rooms while I had my chat. A blood curdling scream came out of the bedroom. The boy had helped the girl do a flip on his bed and she landed face first into the wooden bed rail. Her eye blackened almost immediately. I applied arnicare to it, so hopefully that will help. The boy has had his 2 front top teeth loose for a very long time. Unlike his sister, he refused to fuss with them at all. But they have a habit of coming out on their own eventually. Today he was showing everyone how far back it would go. I offered to take it out for him (something Hubby would never do because it grosses him out) and he finally acquiesced. It took just a couple firm pulls and it was out. Tonight, I am the Tooth Fairy!

                                        

The kicker in all this? It's picture day tomorrow. Yep...My kiddos, one with a black eye and the other with a missing tooth, are getting their school pictures done tomorrow. Doesn't it figure? We're going for the backwoods redneck look this year. Oh boy...

(((hugs)))

So Fresh and So Clean Clean

A huge, monstrous weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I feel happy and free and able to do what I need to get done. Whatever did you do LM??? Well....

I hired some cleaning people to come help me unmess my house. It was fantastic what they were able to accomplish in 2 short hours. Plus I had a friend come over too and she took care of the kids' rooms. The house looks amazing and I feel amazing and it's all wonderful again. I can breathe!!! Granted, there are a few messes to get through. But guess what??? I don't feel overwhelmed by them. I can clean up and it's not a big deal. I feel like I can relax until Hubby gets home instead of stressing over all the mess that's so overwhelming I don't even know where to get started.

Of course I helped the cleaning people. I didn't make everyone work while I sat with my feet up. I was energized by all the help. I started with the dining room and my bedroom. I didn't know we had a floor! Lol!

Even Hubby noticed how happy I was. I was dancing in my chair while video-chatting with him. Yes, he's still in a land far far away. He will be back around 1:30 AM Sunday. I will be awake I think. I don't think I can sleep. I'm so excited he will finally be coming home. I can't even begin to tell you how much I miss him.

I have planned Monday morning, after the kids have been taken to school, as the time we will spend reconnecting. With everything so busy and out of control, it's nice to know we can at least spend a few hours with each other, without interruption.

I know...this is a totally non-DD post. I went all vanilla on ya. You love me anyway.... (((hugs)))

The Crossroads and the Plate

I saw my therapist today. We discussed all kinds of things like my assessment results from taking several online tests I took, like StregthFinders 2.0. We also discussed how I'm not a mind reader, even though I still beg to differ that my MIL's thoughts can be easily read through her body language. She doesn't hide it well at all. We also talked about how I am at a crossroads with everything in my life. What???

The Crossroads:

My therapy - We've dealt with so much already. It's time to take steps, but in which direction? Why can't someone just tell me what to do? She thinks I should go back to school. I told her how much I hate school. It's difficult for me because I'm a kinesthetic learner. That presents many challenges for me in traditional education. So what to do? I dunno...

My business - What I should be when I grow up, according to the StrengthsFinder assessment is what I already am, but changes need to be made. I am a projects kinds of girl. I start them and I can finish them as long as they don't go on too long. If they require any length of time, I get bored and set it aside with promises that I will get back to it, only to never pick it up again. It's not that I'm lying when I promise. I have every intention of finishing it. But the monotony of owning my own business, all the daily tasks, it's a never ending project that bores the crap out of me. It's monotonous and boooooooring and I hate it. But there are several challenges to it that I like. And then there is the fact that I have been flaky and forgetful. I hate flaky people. How did I become one?

My marriage - I made a change in my marriage. I decided to take a long hard look at myself and institute changes. I don't want to be a bitch to Hubby. I don't want to ignore his needs anymore. Sometimes he wants me to do things and gets frustrated with me for not getting to them. I completely understand that. If I were him, I would be frustrated too. Of course if I were him, I would've had me bent over the bed a long time ago...

My children - The kids... Don't get me wrong. I love my children with every fiber of my being. They are my pride and joy. They are amazing, smart, fun little people. But I'm not good at parenting them. They are a project that has gotten excruciatingly out of hand. They drive me absolutely crazy. I love to snuggle and love and kiss and huggle with them. I love to share songs and watch them put on plays for me. I love to teach them little things like how bubbles in soda make a straw float to the top of the glass. But I'm not so good with the big picture.

My home - It's a mess. An ever-lovin' disaster! Stuff is everywhere. I'm a clutter bug. The worst part is that I can clean an area until it sparkles and be very good about putting things back and keeping that area clean and somehow, someway the clutter finds it and invades it. I turn my back and my dresser is covered in clothes that should be put away. I leave the bathroom for 5 minutes and everything ends up back on the counters. It's amazing how it happens. And I gave up. I stopped trying a long time ago.

My finances - As Hubby will attest to, I am a wreck. I have some bills that have been following me all year. I avoid the mailbox like the plague because I know what's in there...another bill. I don't answer my phone if I don't know the number because it's that doctors office again... When I don't have money, I avoid the bills. Thing is, when I do have money, I still avoid them because I don't want to deal with them. Bills aren't new projects. They are old projects that won't quit bugging me.

My therapist suggested that maybe we should work on ways to make old "projects", be it bills, cleaning, or kids, have a new and creative edge to them so I feel challenged instead of bogged down. Any suggestions?

The Plate:

I used this analogy with a friend of mine and she thought it was pretty good; If I were standing holding with a plate full of mexican jumping beans at shoulder level, that would be a pretty good representation of my life right now. Every employee request, note home from school, bill in the mail, or toy on the floor is just another bean added to my plate. It's annoying and irritating and frustrating and stressful. I am overwhelmed.

My therapist said that all the feelings I'm having right now are because I am at these crossroads and I'm building up the energy to make a change. What I perceive as this feeling of annoyance and irritation and frustration is really just the energy building. The stress of these feelings is causing me to feel overwhelmed. I don't like it, but it's been a long, a long time coming, and I know a change gonna come...

Hubby the Great and I'm Not Too Shabby Either

It's been great to be able to read everyone's posts and this is my 2nd post since I've been back, but oddly I haven't had much to write about. Something I noticed, not only here but also in therapy and with anyone who's every met or had dealings with Hubby is that is he very well loved. He has endeared himself to many without even trying. He often tells me how lucky he is to have me and I always reply that it is I who is lucky.

I'm not joking when I say that everyone loves him. The only person that didn't like him was the mother of a girlfriend he had in high school, and that was only because he wasn't Pakistani. He can talk to anyone about anything. He can teach someone at their level of understanding. He is smart and sexy and funny and lovable and comfortable and sexy and kissable and huggable and did I mention sexy? He is more than I've ever wanted and I feel so undeserving most of the time.

And everyone loves him. There is so much he can do that comes so easy to him, and if it's not easy, you would never know it. Also, he's stubborn as all get out. He's got psoriasis on his legs and he had scratched one spot that got infected. It was hot, hard, and pussing (eww), and I told him he had to go to the doctor. But did he? No. He said he didn't have time. Instead, he looked up home remedies. Honestly, this shocked the garbage out of me because normally he's not a researcher of medical stuff, nor a home remedy believer. He started applying honey on his wound and covering it with gauze. Wouldn't you know it, the infection is almost gone! Add crazy and lucky to the list.

I, like most women, compare myself to others. I hold impossibly high standards for myself, which I will never meet, and that gives me the perfect excuse not to try. I compare myself to others which can be both good and bad, but mostly it is destructive behavior. I stay far away from full length mirrors and dress very nondescript (tshirts, shorts, and flipflops). I only wear makeup when I sing background vocals at church, otherwise I am sans beautification. I am a heavier set woman (it's very unfortunate that I have to use those words). I need to lose 80 lbs. So to all of you other women, fat happens and all we can do is our best to get rid of it. I have not done my best, but I am formulating a plan. By Hubby's 20 year reunion in June, I want to be 135 and sexy. Besides, sex is soooo much better when you are skinny. I was at my goal in June of 2009 for my 20 year reunion. Then it all fell apart, including my self-worth, self-confidence, and I just stopped caring. I want to care again. I know it will take some "motivation" to get there and I am fully prepared to accept that. It needs to be done. I cannot live like this anymore.By the way, Hubby has been getting very good at motivating me. His hand packs a powerful wallop while he tells me exactly what I am to do. Let's hope I don't slack...

My therapist has been helping me tremendously. She suggested that I attend an OA meeting, not because I overeat (I seriously don't), but because I can form a bond with the women there and work on my spiritual relationship through the 12 step program. I will do it. I know I can't not try. If the answers are right there, why not? She also had me check out a video by Dr. Brown from the University of Houston. It's only 15 minutes long and she's very funny. Is a very powerful message about the price of invulnerability. Through this message, I have gained some insight about myself that I can't wait to talk to my therapist about. If I can nail these things down, I really think that I will be getting somewhere. I don't want to be perfect, I just want to be "enough" (check out this other video by Dr. Brown about "wholeheartedness"). I definitely think I'm making some good progress. I may not be super well-liked by everyone like Hubby is, but I'm not too shabby either.


(Yes, I got up before the alarm to write this post. I know...crazy huh?)

The Attic

I was reading Lillie's post about not being brave enough to share her work of fiction (she's an excellent writer by the way), and I remembered that I have a story I wrote a couple years ago that I never shared with anyone (except my therapist and Hubby). It's non-DD, based on a recurring nightmare I used to have. I didn't share it because I didn't want anyone who knew me to think I was screwed up, bonkers, crazy. I'm definitely those things, but I'm putting it out there. I need to do this. You will see why...

**********
The Attic

Ever since I was very young, I've had nightmares. In most of them I'm being chased. Sometimes bad things are happening. Family members are being tortured and buried alive. I can't get to my half-brother in time for the bad guy to grab him from the swing at the park...at midnight. Why we would be at the park at midnight I have no idea. My father, the alcoholic, is being wrapped up in barbed wire and can't get out. They, the bad guys, are chasing me. Chasing me. Chasing me. And I'm running. I can't get away from the chase.
I understand that these nightmares come from a dark place in my mind. I know that coming from a broken home where fighting between my mother and her best friend whom constantly betrayed her (example; my half-brother) was inevitable but my mother still insisted on being a doormat. She did her best to protect me, but she couldn't protect me from my nightmares.

As I grew older, and especially after my mother died, my nightmares grew more detailed. The plots thickened. The answers were forever just out of reach. There was no place to hide. No place was safe. The dreams were vivid, colorful. The bad guy ever present. Still chasing me. Chasing me in color and fury and determination. It was inescapable. It was all in my head and I was trapped there with it, in the attic. Always the attic.

I opened the door. The smell of dust mingled with a slight whiff of mold, like the opening of century-old school books. Really that smell was so exciting to me. I'm reminded of adventures to be had, forts to be built, stories to be made up. Just before my mother died, we lived in a one bedroom house that had a detached garage with a mother-in-law's attic above. Although the attic needed a lot of work and there were no furnishings, I always imagined that there was a fully stocked kitchenette and a brightly furnished room. But something evil dwelt there. I could almost taste it. It lived in the smell of the mold. It was as if I could reach out and grab hold of it, if only it wouldn't slip through my fingers. I would spend hours up in that room. I would close my eyes and imagine what could have been, wherever the dark feeling took me. And it took me places I didn't want to go. It got so bad that I became terrified of that room. I didn't want to go up there anymore. It was no longer fun. And with my mother's cancer choking the life out of her, I didn't want to do anything but die with her. At almost 13 years old, I couldn't grasp reality or nightmares. But back to the attic dream...

I was in the attic. The smell of dust and mold. The dusty wooden floors. Everything was dusty. The only light in the room shown through a clouded window and highlighted the dusty, broken cobwebs strewn across the corners and on the bit of wooden furniture haphazardly placed in the room. My attention was drawn to the overstuffed armchair. Dust and cobwebs muted the orange color of the velour fabric. The warmed dust beckoned me to my hands and knees. To the right of the armchair was a small door in the wall, about the same size as a trapdoor. If only I could stop myself from opening it. As the door swung towards me, I peered through the hole, my head cocked with curiosity. I don't know that I crawled through the door so much as just appeared on the other side of it.

More dust and mold. More dusty floors. It was the same room. The same orange velour armchair. The only difference between where I was and where I came from was the diminishing light. Everything was darker. I spied the trapdoor and was instantly transported through it to the next room. Again the same room, the same chair, even darker. Another trapdoor. Another instantaneous transportation. Only this time, no orange chair, no trapdoor. I stood there surveying the dark room. After a few minutes, my eyes adjusted to the dark and I could make out a few wooden chairs. I started to explore the room and found several doorways, but no windows. Everything I touched left dust on my fingertips. The dust infiltrated my clothing and my nostrils and thickened my long, dark hair. The possibility that I had always been there, part of the room like the old, rickety wooden chairs, had crossed my mind.

I became aware of a presence. The presence. It watched me. Every inch of my skin knew of that dark entity that I could neither see nor touch. But it was there. I knew it was there as I started to move away from it. It occurred to me that this thing could be my imagination, that I could be testing the boundaries of my own sanity. Perhaps the very thought of it was inviting it in. Can you think such things into existence? I doubted so as I moved into another room. The darkness of the room threatened to envelop me. The evil lurked in the corners. In the smell of mold. In my mind.

My head started to pound as I searched frantically with my eyes and outstretched arms for something or someone to save me from the inevitable chase. I found an old wooden bed in the corner. A layer of dust veiled an old, tattered quilt draped over a thin mattress. The smell of things long dead permeated the room but I dared not move on. I dropped down to the floor and slid under the bed. My heart beat out of my chest and I was sure the sound reverberated through the floorboards, giving away my location to the invisible predator. I couldn't breathe. The very act of inhaling only fueled the abuse my heart was inflicting on my ribs as it beat wildly out of control. I had to get out of there. I was trapped. It was after me.

What was this dark thing? What was this pernicious spirit that threatened me? I smelled it coming for me. I scrambled out from under the bed and started to run. A room. Another room. All dusty and dark and endless. Where were the windows? How do I escape. It's coming for me. It's almost here! A scream caught in my throat. The adrenaline coursed through my veins lighting every muscle on fire. I was trapped. Trapped in this endless attic, this dark and musty labyrinth. It had me cornered with no way out. I could almost reach out and grab hold of it. As my fear grew, so did this malevolent being that chased me. It started to become a physical substance; a black fog that sucked up all light in it's presence. And I was next. I tried to run but my legs were jello and every effort yielded little result. I tried to scream but the sound was nothing more than a hum. I threw weak, wild punches at it.

I gasped and shot up all at once. My heart beat loudly as I looked around my bedroom. A cold sweat dampened my nightshirt, sending chills down my spine as the breeze from the fan swept past me.  I couldn't go back to sleep. I couldn't go back to that monster.

I couldn't stop myself from falling back into the blackness. It lured me back in. Over and over again. That night and many nights since, I'd awaken to a gasp or a strangled scream. Sometimes it would try to trick me into coming to it willingly. A Southern Belle shows me around her plantation, all bright and sunny and painted pale yellow. "Let me show you the upstairs," she gushed in southern accent. No. No I won't go upstairs. I know there is a wide, welcoming hallway at the top of those stairs. But I also know what's beyond that. Somehow, after making the decision to follow her I would be instantly transported to the attic. You can't make me go back there. I won't. I won't do it. I can't.

Through the years, the dream has changed. The last time I had it, the dust and cobwebs were gone. Large windows offered a view of the coastal landscape below. The wood was warmed from the sun and had no signs of dust or mold. A wide, open staircase invited me upstairs. I explored the rooms, none of which were furnished save one. The room that captivated me held an empty, white, wooden crib and a rocking chair. As soon as I spied the chair I was transported onto it. I sat their knitting, a skill which I did not possess at the time, watching the empty crib with intense longing. My heart was broken. A puddle of blackness formed under my chair as I rocked. It spread beneath the crib and I knew we were about to fall through the floor. But I awoke. I was still intact as was my heart. I equated the dream with my fears that I would never have children. That was 7 years ago.

It scares me still to think of those dreams. I don't dare set foot in an attic. I have to catch my breath when I think of the demon that my fear became. I'm still running. I'm still being chased.

**********