Monday, 30 June 2014

Boring Details of Organization

We did make it through the week, with our usual bliss firmly back intact. Yea!
Saturday's yoga class was so much better and I'm happy about that. After early yoga, he took me to breakfast.
Breakfast, is my favourite meal and definitely my favourite meal to have out. Horace has jokingly used breakfast out in the past as a reward. Maybe not so jokingly, come to think of it.

Returned home on Saturday and got to work.
Some of you may remember how much the organisational issues of the Hovel is driving me mad? 

It's difficult, to share space with someone who is so opposite than you. I'm a minimalist: stuff makes me feel claustrophobic and overwhelmed. He has a love for stuff, for collections, for the act of collecting. Each new place we live, we seem to get better and better at striking a peaceful compromise and Horace has become so much better with letting go of some stuff and I work to become better at accepting it, learning to see his appreciation and love of the stuff and  at incorporating his stuff throughout the Hovel.

The state of the Hovel, has been on my nervous because all our plans, depend on one room, an office that we are going to make into our bedroom, our bedroom is going to be for the little one.
 I know.
It actually doesn't need a whole room on its own to start.
But this is one thing that I really want and I can't really explain why it's so important to me.
The room is probably going to end up more of a guest room, because we are putting a bed in there along with the minimalist-minded nursery stuff.
The Hovel isn't tiny, but it isn't over flowing with an excess of space and we are super low on closets.
If you have done the having-little-ones-in-small-spaces thing, please feel free to write me with tips.
So we worked upstairs for hours, sorting and pairing and I helped organized and was happy to be helpful and useful and basked in having all those details to figure out and chew on.
Then we come to the issue of CDs/DVDS.

If the minimalist/collector combination wasn't hard enough to share space with, we also have the combination of the music lover (him) and well, me. And I like music. To a degree. But I like quiet much better.
When we first moved here, Horace decided he was going to try and digitise his music collection.
He tried, parting with some CDs that were lower on his list, trying out different digital music alternatives. But he didn't really like it and the CDs stayed in boxes. Some in the Hovel, some in our storage.
I realized, for now, the digitization of music is just not going to happen.
 So I started searching for an organizational solution. CD racks take up floor space, we didn't want to buy a cabinet just to house the CDs, we certainly have the height and could put shelves up high but then we would need a ladder....eventually I found something similar to this and we lucked out by finding exactly what we wanted locally, without having to order it online.

Well, you know. I didn't have to exactly ask what's on my task list this week.
Horace brought home the lovely organizational case (the whole case can sit nicely on a shelf) and I started to take all the CDs, hundreds and hundreds and hundreds out of the boxes and I made stacks in alphabetical order, that way later on this week when I take them all out of the jewel cases, they are already in order.
 I mind making the stacks, it was a lot to get through and tedious but it was kind of fun. I was working steadily away at this for a few hours, when Horace came over and started helping.
At first, he threw off my system.
And there was that voice in my head that said, "this is my task!"  which is how I generally feel when comes and takes over something, which he does have a tendency to do.
"Why are you helping me?"
"Bleue, you have a way of making anything fun and just because I asked you to do it, doesn't mean I won't help you. It's always quicker with two."
That made me feel all happy and bouncy and we got through the rest of the boxes rather quickly.

Stacks of CDs are taking up half my living room, there are stacks of stuff to be put away upstairs and I do feel a little overwhelmed by all this stuff out in the open and I'm impatiently waiting for the shelves that are coming, but it is progress.

Definitely progress.

Saturday, 28 June 2014

Friday Fragments: Focus and Yoga

It's 4:30am and I'm up, wide-awake, having just put a pot of boiling water on the stove for pasta. It's a craving that woke me up and I know by this point, it's best just to give in and move on. Half of me wishes my cravings were a little more interesting, but they have actually been rather dull and nutritious. 
 Even the pasta, makes sense. In a couple of hours, I'll be at a prenatal yoga class, the second of the week. 

It has been a good week. I am hoping that I'm not jinxing it by saying, we have our harmony back, the ebb and flow and space that feels like our norm. We haven't of course, made it through the weekend but I'm optimistic. 
The first part of the week flew by, but the second half, the day after that first yoga class, I felt so tired. I was falling asleep at my desk, three days echoing the exhaustion I felt in the early months. I didn't know why, it wasn't the yoga--yoga actually left me feeling great with back pain relieved and one thing I have really appreciated about this time, is how strong I feel physically. 
Then it dawned on me. 

In many ways, it was like that first week all over again. That memorable week when we went from kink in the bedroom to transiting to D/s 24-7. I remember how absolutely tired I was feeling. I think mental exhaustion can be the most difficult to overcome and this D/s/ M/s stuff? It takes a lot of mental focus. A lot of mental tongue-biting. Do you know how much strength it takes to differ and keep silent, when a huge part of you wants to fight and yell? 
Of course, most of you do. 

This time, it was much easier because I had a blueprint to follow--leaning heavily on what we have created over the past few years, leaning heavily on him to direct, to guide, to keep me in line. 
And it occurred to me, one thing I love about M/s, is the direction. 

He has given my tempest spirit a direction, a purpose in which to fully spin into. He has shown me where the lines are, where the boundaries are set and what happens when those invisible markers are crossed. It is through M/s and from Master showing me, that I learned what stability and harmony are.
And that they can in fact, be lasting, a way of being, not just a few accidental moments here and there. 

I was searching for prenatal yoga and finally found it. So I went and tried it. 
Whenever I have to do a group thing, I have to battle through a little anxiety. When it's a physical thing, the anxiety is twice as much. 
But I did. 
He was encouraging of this desire (we are reading everything we can on preparing for a natural birth and yoga was recommended by the dear midwives) and that made me feel more confident. 
So, went to yoga. 
Before the class, listened to the other woman talk and immediately felt like I was on a different planet. 
Listening to all the stuff they were planning on or had already bought, made my minimalist heart panic. 
And then I'm thinking: Have they seen an infant??? They actually require very little at first. 
But these women, had bought up every piece of furniture and toy ever marketed, from the sounds of it.
This was after work on a week day and every one of them, had just come from work. There was also talk of "boyfriend", "partner" and "significant other" but the word "husband" wasn't mentioned. 
I'm not judging here, honest, I'm just observing because this experience left me feeling kind of concerned. 
Class starts. It has been almost two years since I was at a yoga class. 
Found many poses difficult, but I was very proud that I managed to push past the frustration and continue on. The class ended up being a great experience and I was happy I went--even if it left me feeling like there were no women I could possibly gel with and fretting about putting our little one at a social disadvantage because I can't get along with  others.
Amazing, that it took this long for that thought to arise. 
 Talked this all over with Horace. 
He was proud of me for getting over my anxieties, proud of me for not getting frustrating and that infused me with strength to give it another go, as did the physical benefits I felt from the class. He also pointed out that there is a (very early) class on Saturdays and it's his feeling that maybe it would be a different crowd. He suggested I try it before committing fully to the sessions...and convincing myself that we are going to be social outcasts and how that will affect the little one. 
 I have always been different. Always on the outskirts of others. This experience is not exactly new. But I know...I thought I was in like-minded company. Physically-like company, perhaps, but not like-minded. 
 I'm usually up for an experiment and today's experiment will be interesting. 

Have a good weekend, my friends!

Wednesday, 25 June 2014

M/s with Hormones

Early morning. 
He wasn't fully awake yet. 
But I had been up for hours--amazing how often hunger wakes me up.
The day before this one, I felt raw. Kind of emotionally hung over. 
Day before that, there was one of those arguments that seems to come weekly, including a meltdown by me. 
Between that and the early morning, we had done a lot of talking.
Reached the conclusion that, I need to be both used and useful. 
He needs service, control and to pull the leash tighter. 
Basically, we need M/s. 
And somehow, even with the hormones, we were going to get back to our usual harmony. 
Necessary. Crucial. 

With the soft light coming into our bedroom, I throw a few pillows on the bed. Grab something from our toy kit. 

He yawns, stretches and smiles at me. 
"You need to get more comfortable?"
"Not quite", I mumble. 

I kiss him, and kind of scoot down, arranging myself over the pillows. 
\My hand on the implement. 
He rubs my back, his hand stops at the back of my neck. 
"What is it?" 
My heart is thumping. Oh the ask. Always and forever, the power of the ask. 
In one situation or another. 
"Master, please". 
And I sit back on my keels, eyes lowered and hold out the purple heart paddle. 
"You want this?"
"Yes, please Master".

He takes the paddle. 
Moves me where he wants me. 
Lays the paddle on my back. It's heavy, I forgot how heavy and how much weight this one has. 
"Why this one?" He asks. 
"I want...I want to know if I can take it...I want to take it for you." 
(Have I mentioned, that my pain tolerance has dropped to zero?)
"Let's see."
He starts paddling, slowly bringing the heavy wood down on my behind, over and over and over. 

It hurts. Oh it hurts in a painful way.
But still, it's's the pleasure is just that much further away. But it gets there, eventually. 

He stops after a good long while, laying his hand on my neck. 
"That's my good girl".
After that, rough sex, where he didn't act as if I was in bubble wrap. 
He wasn't concerned about treating me with any fragility. 
He took what he wanted and I still have marks. 
When he was done, he jammed his fingers into my mouth (which I hate), took them out again, said, "Tongue", so I put my tongue out, then he took it between his thumb and forefinger and told me to bring myself to orgasm. 
I obliged, of course and all of this, ended well. 
He made a point of doubling the usual after-care. 
The next day, he did his best to stay in contact with me and checked in with me often and even the next day after that, he kept up those efforts. 
Drops have been brutal during these last months and our wariness of playing hard has more to do with fearing the drop than being worried about anything, risk wise. 
But I was good. 
And it was freeing to know that we could play, very close to how it was in those before times, and the drop could be managed. 
We've been trying to figure out the play aspect for awhile, we had it sorted but it was a little lacklustre. 
This is much better. 

As for day to day M/s.... 

The hormones make everything more intense. And I have noticed that anything that has caused me irritation before, is more now. But the things that irritated me before, I was able to handle, put aside, remind myself that I am doing x and y for him. 
Not so with the hormones. 
One of the things that had been bothering me--making me feel stressed and panicked--was when he asked me to do something. 
 I know, it's dumb. 
Him asking me to do just how it is, it's a daily occurrence. 
And I was never annoyed by it before--it felt off if he didn't ask for something during the day. 
So for whatever weird hormone-induced reason, asking me to do things was causing an emotional reaction. 
We have tried to circumvent this, by making a weekly list of everything he needs done. 
And though we both find it silly to have something as mundane as "clean" on the list, it has helped me to focus. 
The other day, I put orange juice in the cupboard with the glasses. We normally keep it in the fridge. 
I blanked on our wedding anniversary (remembered just in time), point is, I am forgetting everything these days. 
For someone who thrives on details and organization, this is so annoying. 
But a list, with the usual tasks and routine things I normally do, has been helping. And it's been helping to make some space in my head for him. 
He has added to the list, as needed, instead of asking me and this has helped a lot. 

We also realized, that yes, in normal times, I don't need validation. I do things because it is what he has asked, because it gives me pleasure--and I just do, I don't need to be asked for a lot of things--and I do it because I am fulfilling my need to be useful. Not for reward or praise from him. 

However, with me feeling how I do, I need a little more assuaging. A little more validation, a little more praise, a little more attention that I took time and did x and y for him. He has been very good at giving me more affirmation and it has helped to keep it all calm and steady. 

I think those are the two biggest changes we have implemented, other than him taking back complete control-albeit with more flexibility--and so far, this week has been very stable and calm. 

I'm hoping it lasts. 

Monday, 23 June 2014


I know what the concept of a power exchange is, we've been kind of living it long enough that it really shouldn't be something that I need to define. But I will always, like a lot of things, continually define how it relates to us and how we live. 

And maybe, the one who is in charge, who has the power, is often perceived as the one who craves it and needs it, but for me, I'm the one who needs it. 

I need his power over me. 
And it amazes me, that there isn't a single, solitary thing I do that is not influenced by his will, direction or power. Down right scary to contemplate for very long.

Not so scary, if I'm being honest. 
Because it's true. 
My indomitable will, may be strong, but it's far stronger, when he is controlling it, directing it to where he sees fit.
His control over me, gives me purpose, in serving him, I am both used and useful--two needs that both need to be met. 

And when it feels as if he has taken away his power, that's when I stumble and get tangled up. 
That's when the battle of wills starts to emerge from the closets. 
With his domination, I feel freedom. Without it, I feel chained.

It's nice to feel free again. 

Blogging, more often than not, is a way for me to figure out my own thoughts. 
But often, it is only a snap-shot of what is happening. We've hit some lows lately, that's true, and it's true that they feel very intense--I think M/s does that--and it also feels horrible and foreign because it isn't our norm. 

But to give a view of the flip side: The where to fit the M/s in and how that has been the struggle--though I think we have had a couple of breakthroughs on it--everything else, is very, very, good. 

We are enjoying this time, treasuring every moment.And Horace has been awesome, he has done all the right things and more: Come with me to my midwife appointments, indulged my cravings, making sure that I'm not working too hard and that I'm getting enough rest. He's helped me research everything to different ways of 'birthing' to the affects of going to see a movie. I'm so thankful that he's right by my side, championing me along. 

Thursday, 19 June 2014

These Conflicting Adjustments

Slavehood, is something I take a fair bit of pride in. 
 I have an indomitable will, I am brazenly stubborn, I am fiercely independent. 
And I fought to reach and maintain all of those descriptions.  

So when, I lay that all aside, when I push my own will out of my head-as it happened bit by bit as we transcended into M/s, and gave over to his will, Master knew fully, what I was laying at his feet. 
He knew what I was surrendering.
He appreciated it. 

For me, there is a strong current of pride in choosing to live like this. Where the slave part meshes with the wife part--and maybe I can define that by knowing that it's his wants and desires that matter more to me than my own--it only has strengthen our marriage but I have pride in that too. 
I simply acquiesce to his will, discern his wants, serve and obey.
 We've been here--doing this, in a committed D/s fashion for going on four years now...longer if you count the early beginnings in the bedroom only--but it feels like day one, to me in this current state of emotional highs and lows all at the mercy of hormones and or/the passageway of change that is announcing itself.

For me, who is someone so emotionally driven, I can actually feel the difference.
 The difference between being caught up in an emotion in the "before times" and now. 
 Now? I can't wrangle it or control it. And he can't beat me as hard as he would like to and sometimes he can't even talk me down the ledge. 
That really means, some days, I can't push my will out of my way. I can't. 
That indomitable will is in full force, I'm in fight mode. 
Obey? It's barely possible. 
And it's severely irritating to both of us. 
 The want is still there...the want to obey him, the desire to obey him, that purity of feeling that comes when you surrender fully..oh I ache for that familiarity of feeling. I truly do. 
This is not the dazzling freedom I have known while living as D/s/M/s for these past few years. This is restrictive and limiting. 
That's the day to day stuff: our protocols, the interactions, how I respond to him now, versus before, that isn't the play. I think we got the play worked out. 

I am on a handful of pregnancy and kink forums and I have read and chatted with a few women, who also have sadists. Many of them have said that it isn't the same and why engage in an activity if it's not the same pain?
 I get that, to a point. 

And after my last conversation with someone, it sent me spiralling into wondering whether or not I was pleasing to the sadists. But I don't have to worry about their sadists, I only have to worry about my own. 
And for him..the pain is always measured....and while he has certainly pushed me past my boundaries time and time again...he hasn't crossed the threshold into violence. 
Maybe I am taking the words of these other subs wrong....or we've been doing something horribly wrong all this time...but for us....?
Control is his kink. And as indomitable as my will is, so is his self-control.

He uses pain, often as control and he loves to control my every reaction. 
But in this one area, after a few trial and errors, we've been able to adjust.
For one, my skin is so sensitive these days, my pain tolerance is zero. 
A year ago, I could take playing with sharps and being beaten black and blue. 
Now, I bleed so easily, the cutting tools just seem more trouble than worth it and I can barely stay silent during a hand-spanking, because it actually hurts. 
He is still fulfilling the sadist in him: He is causing me pain. 
And while he would love to see me with trails of blood and broken skin, we know that's just something that has to be shelved right now. 
 We tried humiliation play, but after having the worse sub-drop that I have ever experienced (seriously: it freaked me right out and was horrible) that is also sitting on the shelf next to not-breaking-skin and so many other forms of play that are also collecting dust right now.
They are possible to make, necessary to make but the adjusting in mindset? I'm not sure if that can happen. 
I am beginning to doubt that the mindset of a slave and the pregnancy brain can live together.
There are moments, where it is there, and for those brief moments it is like it has been, but it's like a wall of resistance, I even struggle to squeak out a "sir". 

The want, the desire, the need, is there and present. It's just not strong enough to weigh out everything else that has taken up residence.

Tuesday, 17 June 2014

With Turbulence

Such a week filled with turbulence and I can't yet process it all, yet.
It does feel better to be back in the Hovel again.
And we had a handful of really great moments, nights and days among all that but...we also had those hard hitting, all-consuming lows. ..

And I think all of it is what has put me in a very melancholy mood...kind of started first thing this morning and has lasted all day. 
I just can't shake it.

But He did just walk in the door with ice cream...

Promise--better quality posts arriving soon.

Wednesday, 11 June 2014

Experience of Waiting

Tonight, I am waiting for Master to get home. He has been working late all week and this evening is going to be an especially late one.
He has a lot of work on his desk that he wants to get through, he has taken a bunch days off, scattered through out this month. 

If you are the one without the power in the relationship, if it's not up to you to decide when and how, when you don't get to call the where and the now, there is a fair bit of waiting that can go on.

And how you handle that waiting, in my opinion, can make such a difference.

Years ago, I was horrible at waiting for him and some days, it does gall me and get the better of me, but it used to drive me crazy when we planned something and he was late, or he forgot to call or didn't let me know he got swept up in something else and had to alter the plans. Early on in our relationship, we had many arguments over this and it was a mute point without much resolve. He never intended to leave me waiting, but for me who is never late, is early for absolutely everything, just couldn't understand his stance (I'm not important enough for you to call and let me know you're going to be late? How can you not take a moment to let me know you're running behind? You get the drift, I'm sure) he couldn't understand my rigidness on the subject.

I wasn't being rigid and though there were many times that I was genuinely concerned about his whereabouts, that wasn't it either, of course.

It came from being insecure.
My own personal insecurities, the fear that he would up and leave one day and not come back.
It came from the insecurity of not yet being secure in the relationship, of not yet having worked into that ease that we have today, the confidence, the assurance, the empowerment that our relationship gives, the trust, for me to be able to entertain myself while he's out with the guys or for me to busy myself all day in the kitchen when I know he's working late (tonight: penne carbonara and fresh baked bread) and not worry or become anxious if he doesn't call (though a phone call is always nice and over the years, he has become so much better at this) and trusting that he will come home.

I remember the incident that changed all this, that made the light bulb go on in my head.
He was invited to a family party, I wasn't feeling great that afternoon and stayed home, the party was out in the middle of nowhere, I knew the party would last all day and he would be home early evening, at the earliest.
Hours came and went. I paced the floor, tried distracting myself, worked myself up into a complete tizzy, called and called his phone, shouted and cried and crumpled into a heap.
One of my siblings called, and this kind of odd because they usually don;t call that late—I'm the only night owl among the lot—and maybe that's why it sticks out so vividly in my memory.
I couldn't hide how upset I was, so when they asked, I told them.

“He may have the occasional oversight when it comes to picking up the phone, but he always has a reason and he always comes home, there has to be a reason, he isn't intentionally hurting you.”

There was just something in those words, that made that light shine bright in my head and I calmed down enough to pull myself together. I moved the anxiousness and pettiness out of the way enough to think clearly and I was able to finally feel the situation out. Intuition bounced back to me: something was up.
Half an hour later, I got a phone call from one of the relatives.
The car had died, in the middle of nowhere, he got it towed to a garage and it's fine now and he's not far away now, the relative knew this because he just happened to pass Horace on his way back from the party, along with the car his phone also died.

He always has a reason and I could hardly be mad at him for something he couldn't control. I showered, got all made up, put on a dress and waited.

When he came in the door, I hugged him, told him I was glad he was all right and then said,
“Let's go out, I'm hungry”.
His face, in that moment, oh gods.
It was a certain kind of relief—it isn't often that I catch the man totally off guard.
“Yes. You were late and you didn't call so now you can take me out to dinner.”
Obviously, he agreed and we went out and had a great time.

From then on, it became a bit of joke, some days a bit of a tradition: if you are going to be late and you aren't going to call, then you are going to take me out to dinner.

But we never argued again over him being late and not calling.

Since those yearly years, I have learned to manage the waiting with some measure of grace.

I remind myself of all of this, as once again I am waiting for him. Waiting for him to come home after a long day of work and waiting for him to organize, tidy and pack up his space so we can get started on the nursery.

The fact that he always has a reason for everything he does and when and how, doesn't really soothe my gall, but it is enough to make me trust that he will come through.

And if the highs and lows of the hormones hold off, we might just survive this stretch.

Monday, 9 June 2014

Taking the Calm

The last few days, have been kind of blissful. 
 It feels like we are back to being us without raging hormones calling the shots. 
And it makes me long more, for what we do have but it's also a great reminder of our solidness. 
 Maybe we will survive the next few months intact after all... 

Last week, I was kicked out of the Hovel. They were coming to possibly do some work that might involve cutting into the walls. Chances were high that it would be dusty and I didn't want to be around it. When you mostly work from home, it's amazing how hard it is to escape for a day. 
Horace and I disagreed about escape routes. He wanted me to stay close, I thought it would be better if I went further. 
But in the end, it worked out. 

I packed up all my work stuff and found myself at one of our libraries. It was perfect. It's beautiful grounds, fields and parks and tree lines. And they have the most comfortable chairs, ever--they kind of rock and swivel. 
It was peaceful and I was able to work longer than I can at home--because of the chairs--without getting up every twenty minutes or so to stretch. That first day, I ignored actual work, and put in three hours on the book!
It made me very happy. 

And it just felt good. 
Maybe a change of scenery and setting helped to reset something in my mind or soothe the high emotions, but after that first day, that's when things felt easier between Horace and I. 

I'm so grateful to my bloggie friends, you all have helped to keep my sanity. 
 A lot of people have done this, obviously, but there are things that not everyone understands. 

That was crystal clear to me when I found myself around other women-with-children last week. I kind of smiled when I heard the comments they made about their husbands, knowing I wouldn't say those things (being funny cute, but still) or when they said things like, "it's important for your husband to have a say but in the end it's your choice", when discussing everything from home birth to support systems. It's not like I could counter that and say, "that's not how it works in my household" because that would have just been out of place.
I'm sure there will be lots of times I tip over the boat--but I think it's best to wait until the nine months are up for that.

A friend put it so very well and I'm totally paraphrasing. Everything right now, just has more importance to me and Horace can't grasp that importance. Really, there is no way he could.

I like to think right now, that we are past the learning curve. I'm not sure if that will hold true, this blissful state has only been a few days...but for now, I'm taking the calm. 

(I'm again, behind on emails. Apologies my friends, I will catch up soon)

Wednesday, 4 June 2014

Want, Wish and Desire

He is sitting next to me on the bed. I am turned on my side. He just pushed a button and I'm pouting.
“I would rather not”, I said.
In my head, I know this is so far from the typical, so very far from our normal.
“I don't care”, he said. He gently rolls me over, so I'm face down.
“Don't”, I said. I'm referring to the thick leather belt he is holding in one hand. I don't want to do this.
In my head I'm justifying this, 'Don't' isn't exactly a 'no', I haven't quite said, 'no' to him.
“I'm going to do this and you're going to take it like a proper slave.”
“I have no interest in being a proper slave”, I said.
“That doesn't matter”. He swats my behind with an open palm.
“I don't want this.” I said.
“It doesn't matter what you want”.
He strikes me with the belt, leather meeting skin. It's a good sound but I...what? I'm just not giving in, it's not even in a bratty way. It's in an apathetic, I don't really care what is going on kind of way.
“Count”, he strikes again with the belt, on either cheek.
“I don't wish too.”
“Then you'll be taking a lot of these”. He is quick, belt comes down hard, over and over and over. 
This belt leaves welts that rivals our barbed flogger, I cry out.
“I really don't have any desire to do this”, I said.
“I'm in charge and this is what we're doing right now. You are going to obey and you are going to count and you are going to be a good girl and I'm going to beat you because that's what I want to do and it's what you need. Count.”
He let the belt fall over and over again.
I maintained my silence.
“I know I haven't handled you very well in the last while but I'm going to do better and we're going to do better and we'll figure this out and get through it.”
The belt strikes again, tears start to leak out the side of my eyes.
“Now count”.
“One...” and I gave in. 

A lot of that exchange, hit major buttons for me. The theme to the contention has been pretty steadily is that I feel that he doesn't care about what I want. 

And you know what? That's perfectly fine with me, in usual times.

For twelve years, his career has come first, his wants and needs have come first, what he wants has come first and I've been pretty damn okay with all of it.

I've tried my very best to be as supportive as I know how to be, with a few stumbling blocks throughout that time, certainly but I've really put my whole self into what he wants, often shelving what I want until we've tackled the next thing on his list (and writing and the book would be a good example of what has been shelved), we live how we do because that's what he wants and he thinks it's right for us and I may have been hesitant and even horrified at first, however, it did work out but I didn't get to choose where or how we live.

I don't get to choose what we do with the money or when and a lot of the time, I don't get to even see the money. A lot of what I do, how I help him in different areas pays off, but it isn't tangible, the affects aren't immediate and sometimes, that's really hard to deal with. 

And while I can rationally understand that there is a huge difference between him not caring about what I want, and my wants not being a priority, in this hormone-haze, it has all felt the same.

Right now, most of the time, I am not thinking about managing all those spinning plates. Right now, my mind is taken up with getting the Hovel ready, researching the zillion topics that you need to know everything about and basically trying to take care of myself.

I know that has been very frustrating to him—the withdrawal of my energy to our usual mêlée.

But I feel, like there is only so much I can take, right now.

And in the back of my head, I think, “when the addition comes along, I'm going to be even further down the list” and maybe, just for once, I want to come first, I want to put our full attention and energy on something that I want.

Do you know what is really scary about that? With the exception of writing (which is coming along, slowly, but it's coming) the things that I really want, all involve him. I want those spinning plates to fly off and land in the right spot. I want all the plans that we crafted and worked out, to come through.

I can't even want things for myself that don't involve “us”., I may want that dress but if I know he won't like it, there is no way I will buy it.

So why do I feel sort of left out? Like, I want to be put first?

It's a mix match of priorities. He's working on the red plate, when I really want to work on the orange plate. And if the orange plate relates to the addition on the way (like getting the Hovel ready or him completing the registration for the new course), then I really want it and I want it now and the fact that he isn't putting his energy on that orange plate, is making me very upset.

Well, now that I've figured it all out....

He's right, we will work through this. Gods, this is easy. The emotional lows and valleys really do make it feel like it's a crisis but I've lived through many crisis's and this is nothing.

And I'm still content, underneath this all and I'm still very happy about the new addition, that hasn't changed or altered.

My friends, thank-you for being so very generous with sharing your advice, experiences and sympathetic ears through emails and comments. I am so grateful.

I didn't notice Horace's post until very late yesterday night—it was an off posting day, why would I check my blog?
 I wondered how my readers knew what day it was....and then Horace showed me, I was pretty clueless. Thank-you all, for all the warm wishes.

Tuesday, 3 June 2014

An Unusual Posting Day

Hello everyone,

I thought that I would make my very first post on my lovely wife's blog as memorable as I can make it.

Today is her birthday and I wish her all the best for it.  I hope that you can all join me in the congratulations and hugs.


Monday, 2 June 2014

About That Drop?

I want coffee. 
I haven't had coffee-with the exception of one really bad decaf cup--in months and I really, really want coffee. 
And that's all I have. 

Drop. It came yesterday afternoon, followed or with yet another argument.
 I'm pretty raw right now--doing the crying off and on thing. 

I think, I'm beginning to think as much as I need play that it would just be better if he took it off the table.
 Or if we just went even lighter-nothing that would switch that button. 
But I don't want to make that call. I feel that that's a decision for him to make. 

And part of me thinks he won't make that decision just because I want him to--I know that sounds petty but it's more a "wanting to figure it out under the circumstances and not give in to the crazy" kind of thinking. 

And I have no interest--or very, very little interest in doing much of what he says. 
It feels weird. Some things I have continued to do through sheer habit--if I ever doubted the effectiveness of training. 
But, truly...I have no want or desire to obey. 
That could just be the moment talking. 
Or the fact that my head is just in a different place and maybe it needs to be there. 

Did I mention I want coffee?