Seeing Things Differently

Needless to say I have been feeling the distance between myself and Musicman. I really haven't stopped to think about it much, for one I haven't had much time to think, and because I have felt this distance before and thought I knew what the cause was.

I thought the cause was him being sick, this is the way I felt when he had the transplant 12 years ago. I thought it was just me going into caregiver mode. Being that I am a healthcare professional I thought it was normal to only allow myself to deal with the technical side of things so to speak. It is an automatic thing for me, someone is sick, it is my job to care for them until they are better. I also figured it was a coping mechanism, something I needed to do to get through.

Something happened this morning that made me see it differently. Musicman was feeling well enough to get out of the house and I needed to go to the grocery store, so off we went.

As I parked and got out of the van a man was standing a few cars away, he started to yell at me, apparently he didn't like my driving. Normally I would have thought nothing of it and just kept on walking. I'm ashamed to say I did not do that today. No, I attacked back, I told him "back the fuck off or I'll jam your nuts so far up your throat you'll be picking them out of your teeth for a week."  Then he made a fatal mistake, he laughed and kept running his mouth, egging me on. I saw red, dropped my purse and started to charge.

Thank the powers that be that by that time Musicman had managed to get out of the van and had come up behind me. I had forgotten that he was even with me. His hand on my shoulder and his calm voice telling me to "settle down" was all it took for me to realize what I was about to do. I probably would have gotten hurt, but I really thought in that minute that I could have at least taken that guy out in the process. Once he realized I wasn't alone he backed right down and we went on about the business of shopping.

This incident has been playing over and over in my mind since. This is not the way I would normally have handled this situation, at least not since Musicman came into my life. The old faerie, the one I was before Musicman, yeah, she wouldn't have stopped till everyone was awash in blood and not thought twice about it. But that was a long time ago, so why now?

I really think the distance I have been putting between Musicman and myself is not just me being a caregiver, not an automatic coping mechanism. No, I think it was me preparing to live without Musicman if things didn't go well. It saddens me that after all these years I still haven't allowed myself to soften much, to show my vulnerability. I let Musicman see it, I'm soft with him, but let something threaten it and I revert right back to my old ways. Maybe that's normal, I really don't know, but I find it sad. I really don't like being that way, attack first ask questions later.

I've always told Musicman I want to die the day before you do so I don't have to live a day without you. I think I may need to warn my kids that if that doesn't happen they may want to frisk me on a frequent basis cause I'm gonna be the only old lady in the nursing home who is palming a switch blade. And yes, sad to say, but I do still have the blade I carried before I met Musicman.

The positive note of this encounter, the distance is gone, I now know Musicman is here with me and no matter how sick he is he will always protect me, even if it's from myself.

Looking Forward to 2012

Well, after dumping my frustration here in my last post I got down to business. I called Doc to let him know what was going on. I did not realize he was on vacation and over 1,000 miles away, but he is a good guy and helped me.

We spent yesterday morning at an outpatient clinic having more tests done, then off to the ER for even more tests. Musicman has developed a bilateral Plueral Effusion, yuck. His vital signs were stable so they opted not to re-admit him to the hospital. We did however have to go back today to have a Thoracentesis done. They took over a liter of fluid out of one lung, no wonder he had no breath sounds on that side. He is doing much better now, able to breath without wheezing and move around without too much pain. The next several weeks will be filled with more tests and doctor appointments, but, fingers crossed we are on the road to recovery finally.

I am bummed that we can't celebrate New Year's in our usual fashion, but it could be worse, he could be back in the hospital.

For the last 2 decades we have celebrated New Year's in the same way. We have a few drinks and our favorite snacks, watch a movie or maybe a comedy special and then we curl up together in bed. We have the TV on with the sound turned down, cause I really like to watch the ball drop, our favorite music is on in the background.

Yes, we make a point of ending the old year and beginning the new one doing the same thing every year, sex. I think orgasms galore is a great way to usher out the old and greet the new year.
I don't think that is happening this year, but I have decided that since we missed the entire holiday season, we will just move it to a more convenient time for us, maybe mid January, lol.

This may not be the way I anticipated the holiday season being, but as I look back on the last year I am very happy with the things I have accomplished. I feel like I am on the brink of an exciting new year. I have gone through major changes in almost every aspect of my life in this last year, and while many where stressful and more painful than I ever thought they could be, I am in a good place and looking forward to what life has to offer in the coming year.

Happy New Year everyone and please be safe.

Nurse Faerie Looses Her Mind

Warning the following post is going to be a rant.

You now it's not going to be the best of days when you get out of bed pissed off at the world. I can't even blame it on lack of sleep because I have been sleeping pretty well. No, I am just super frustrated right now, but I don't like to deal with frustration when there is nothing that can be done to change the situation, so I get mad.

If I was the type to throw things and break things I wouldn't have a dish left. Good thing I'm not like that, I guess. But it would feel so good right now.

Often when I get this mad I contemplate running away, just packing a few things and leaving. If I had somewhere to run to I'd be gone.

Then of course there is the guilt of feeling this way. I mean really, who gets mad at someone for being sick? He isn't exactly having the time of his life either. Unfortunately for all the years we have been together I have always deferred to him. If he made a bad choice, he had to deal with it. But this is different, whether he likes it or not(he doesn't) I know better this time. I'll be honest, I don't particularly like being the one who knows better, because he still doesn't listen to me. Well, that's not exactly right, he listens, then he does whatever he wants anyway.

IF YOU ARE NOT GOING TO DO WHAT I SAY, STOP COMPLAINING.

Rationally I know what he is going through is not easy, but if he would just do what I say he would feel better. This is the perfect example of being a submissive wife coming back to bite me in the ass.  He isn't used to having someone else, even me, make decisions for him. I don't want to make the decisions, I've had decades of him making the decisions, and he usually makes very good ones. I have never regretted that I chose to let him be the leader in this relationship, until now. Sure I can blame it on the fact that he is in pain, and taking pain pills does not make for a clear head, but if I hear one more whine or one more complaint I may just scream at the man. Not recommended in bedside 101 by the way. And all that will accomplish is to make him as mad as I am, good way to cultivate marital harmony.

Maybe I should consider becoming a switch, maybe a good spanking will get him with the program. Okay, this is where I go, ewww, not in this lifetime.

 All right, I don't feel like I want to kill someone right now, so I'm going to go get in the shower and get my day started and hope I can keep things under control. If you should happen to run across an angry woman driving around aimlessly, give me a wave, I've run away from home and am probably lost.

The Adventures of Nurse Faerie

Ever have the need to write, but have nothing to say? Nothing wise, nothing witty, nothing wonderful makes for a whiny post.

Musicman is doing well but it is slow going. He is able to do more and  more for himself everyday, but I'm firmly in nurse mode at the moment. Managing meds and doctor appointments, feeding and clothing and blah blah blah. Yep, that's what it feels like, that's what I feel like, blah blah blah.

Musicman is very frustrated right now, he does not do weak well. The more he sees me moving and doing the worse it gets. I try to remember when he has an outburst that not only is he dealing with a lot of pain, but it must be very emasculating for him. He is not the type of guy to sit around doing nothing while I run around like a headless chicken. But things have to be that way right now.

We are both feeling the frustration of not being able to be together. It will be 2 weeks tomorrow and that's just way too long for either of us. Of course, we could try, but me moving around too much in the bed causes him pain, so it's not really practical right now. His incisions are not healed yet and between the cath and the surgery he is a giant bruise from his collar bone to his heel, not really play inducing.

I keep telling myself this too will pass and try to remember how grateful I am that we found this in time and fixed it. Sometimes that just isn't enough, I need my big strong husband back, and he needs to be back.

I'm off to clean and do some laundry and fantasize about the day he is well again.

Just A Week Ago

It is very hard to believe that it was just a week ago today I was posting updates from the hospital waiting room as my husband went through surgery, it seems a lifetime ago.

We are not celebrating christmas in a traditional way this year, there are no presents or cookies, no tree or eggnog, no tinsel or wrapping paper. Yet, for me this will be one of the most joyful christmases ever.

I could so easily have lost the most important person in my life. Musicman is not only my husband, he is my best friend, he is my protector, my confidante, my lover. I have spent over half my life with him and fully intend to grow old with him. Now that he is home and improving daily I am sleeping better than I have for quite awhile. My thoughts are clearing some and I have realized just how close I came to not having him with me. I refuse to even consider what my life would be like without him, instead I am going to focus on all the small improvements he is making.

The first sight of him after surgery, laying in the bed in ICU, still unconscious, all the tubes, the worst of which was the ventilator. I thought I was prepared for that, I wasn't. Instead of that image I am going to focus on the insane thought of how happy I was that they didn't shave his beard. I love his beard, the way it feels on my freshly shaved lady parts is devine. The way it gets covered in my juices. I have learned to like the taste of myself on his beard. If I stop for just a second I remember what it feels like to feel the drops fall from his beard onto my body as he moves up to enter me. It's been a week and the hair on his neck that he usually keeps shaved has grown in, I'm looking forward to the day he is strong enough to shave as he has a particular spot on his neck where I love to snuggle and lick and plant little kisses.

Watching him for so many days laying in that hospital bed, too weak to get up on his own. I don't think I can even describe the way it felt the first time he stood on his own and I could look up at him again.  It's the same feeling as when I am on my knees at his feet, his hand in my hair, tugging my head back so he can see my eyes as he comes on my face, oh yes, that's what it feels like. I want that again, and I will have it, in time.

So many nights, just wanting to crawl into that horrible little hospital bed with him, just to be close to him. It wasn't possible, I had to be content with sitting as close to the bed as I could and touching him. The first night home, he was settled in our big waterbed, I didn't know if I should try to lay down with him as he was in so much pain and I didn't want to make it worse. Even in a haze of pain and pain pills, he said, "come lay with me," the sweetest words I've ever heard. I can't yet lay on his chest with his arm around me, my place of ultimate peace, but I will again, in time. I will trace his scar with my tongue, I  love the taste of his skin, I will follow that scar down his chest and continue on until I fill my mouth with him. If I stop for just a second I remember what it feels like to feel him pushing down my throat as he fucks my face just the way I like.

I have often told my husband living with him is like living with an octopus. He is all hands, constantly touching me, caressing me. A swat on my butt as I'm bent over the dishwasher, or a squeeze on my breast as I walk past him. I don't think I even realized how much I missed his touch, until he sat next to me on the lounge in our room yesterday and just caressed my leg, the gentle touch of his hand tracing the curve of my bottom as I bent over to retrieve something that had been dropped. This morning, him, sitting on the edge of our bed with his arms open, beckoning me to walk in to them. I have that again and don't have to wait. Those small gestures will hold me for a time while he recovers.

We may not be celebrating a traditional christmas, but we will rejoice in the small gestures that mean so much and hold the promise of more.

One More Night

It looks like one more night alone for me. I tried my best to get the doctor to let Musicman come home today, like they told us, but no go. They are concerned that his oxygen saturation dips too low with activity. It took me pointing out that putting the monitor for it on his finger may not be very accurate. I was right, but they still wouldn't change there minds.

Musicman makes his living with his hands, and he plays guitar, he has calluses on his calluses. For highly educated people they missed the obvious. Frustrating, but nothing more I can do about it, except wait one more night.

I am looking forward to him being home for many reasons. First and foremost I miss him. At the best of times I don't sleep well, when I'm stressed I don't sleep at all. I am not used to sleeping alone, add to that the stress of all this and forget it, it's just not happening, unless I'm totally physically exhausted. Oh well, this too shall pass.

The second reason is a lot more fun. The doctors have told us that given the physicality of his job it will be three months before he can go back to work. It will take that long for the bone to heal totally. Yes folks, 3 whole months home with my honey, ALL ALONE.  Between school and work our son is gone for 12 hours everyday. Hmmm...wonder what we can do to keep ourselves occupied?

With him not working, money is going to be tight, so no frivolous spending, which leaves out going anywhere that cost anything. The weather here for the next 3 months is prime snow time, so no going outside.

He will have to keep busy, as he doesn't do well when he is not productive, and the exercise is important for his recovery. One of the areas he is going to have to work on is getting his arm strength back and the range of motion in his shoulders is impaired right now which will need to be addressed. I have a therapy background and have already thought of a few ways to get that range of motion in his shoulders as well as the arm strength back. Any guesses what I might be referring too?

We had to attend a discharge class today, they reviewed what we can expect over the next few months and any activity restrictions. They gave us a book and it says sexual activity can be resumed immediately. I almost bit my tongue off when the nurse teaching the class said that must have been written by a man. I beg to differ, but didn't as I didn't want to embarass Musicman. It was so hard not to laugh at her when she mentioned we might need to try different positions due to the incision and the healing sternum. Her face was a red as the stripe on a candy cane. If she only knew. Of course I don't think that we are going to be swinging from the chandelier anytime soon, but personally I have never needed a reason to try different positions. I'm certain we can figure it out, and hey if at first we don't succeed, we will try, try again.

In fact, I promised Musicman before he went in to surgery that once he was better I would teach him wicked things. Now I just have to learn some wicked things, lol. Anyone have any suggestions?

Do I Really Need A Title?

Where to begin?

Musicman is doing better today.

All the tubes are gone. . .  Score.
The pain is getting better. . .Score.
He is moving idependently, mostly...Score.
I slept last night. . .Huge Score.

He isn't eating. . .No score.
Blood sugars are still high. . .I might have to give him shots and I'm can't look at needles...no score.

Issues with his transplant doctor who was called in due to minor complications.  I AM GOING TO SERIOUSLY HURT THE MAN.  If the complications become more then minor my next need is going to be bail money.

I can be a real serious Bitch when I need to and nobody fucks with my family. Right now I am in full on Bitch mode. The armor is fitting very well, and it's inpenetrable.

I stocked up on groceries today, I cleaned my home, every dish in the cabinet where they belong. My last load of laundry is in the dryer and will be folded and put away soon. I have chicken soup cooking in the crock pot.

Tomorrow when I get up I will go to the hospital, at this point my car can drive itself there. Unless something drastic happens I'm not leaving alone. I'm bringing my Musicman home. The healing has begun.

I'm so lonely, I miss him so much. He is starting to come back to me. We have been here before. I know what to do for him, I know what he needs, and I will very happily give it to him. I just need him to come home. I can face the world when he stands next to me, and I can win. I can feel euphoria in his arms.

Rambling

Wow has this been a totally exhausting 4 days, it seems like I have been stuck in a nightmare forever.

Musicman is doing well, in fact so well that he was only in the ICU for 24 hours. I was thrilled when they moved him to the step down unit, I was just a little premature in being so thrilled. He started having some minor, but expected complications within an hour of being transferred. His heart rate started spiking up into the 180's, it was scary to see, it caused his entire body to shake. He tells me it was very painful, he thought his heart was going to explode. They gave him medicine, but it took 2 hours to get it back to a somewhat normal range. I ended up being with him until 4am came home for 2 hours to shower and change and then went back to the hospital. He was doing much better this morning, the heart rate is normal, he has been up out of bed and was even able to walk a bit. They are working on weaning him off the oxygen and according to the surgeon who came to check him today if things continue to go well he may be able to come home on Tuesday.

I came home a couple hours ago to try and get some sleep, I have only had about 8 hours total of sleep in the last 4 days. I have been trying to sleep, but not having too much luck with it, I think now I am over tired and I know I am over stressed.

While I have been busy at the hospital our teenage son has had the run of the house. He has eaten all the food in the house, there are dirty dishes and empty pop cans everywhere. My home looks like a bachelor pad inhabitted by frat boys. I am just a little OCD about my home and never allow this to happen, but I just don't have the energy to get it cleaned up, but also can't seem to ignore it.

I play taxi driver for our adult daughter driving her to work everyday. She doesn't live with us and this was supposed to be temporary when she got transferred to a different location of her work, just until she got her driver's license. I have been doing it for a year and a half. Yes, I know, I need to just tell her no, but any Mom's out there who can explain to me how to do this without the guilt, please clue me in. I haven't been able to be her taxi driver the last few days and she is not happy about it. She does understand why I can't, but her job is hassling her about it and in turn I feel guilty about it.

The icing on this particular cake is the fact that it is snowing. I've lived in the snow belt most of my life and while I don't particularly care for it, it also doesn't bother me too much usually. For the last decade I drove a minivan that went like a tank through the snow, never had a problem getting anywhere with it. In May Musicman bought me a new car, a sporty little thing that I love. I discovered this morning when I got home, it doesn't go through the snow like the van did, I couldn't get in the driveway with it so I basically abandoned it on the street.  I have always done that before without a problem because Musicman always just took care of it for me. I am very spoiled, I never do outside stuff unless it's something I choose to do. I haven't even put gas in my own car since the day I met Musicman, he just always takes care of me. I'm so overwhelmed at the moment I don't even know where to start, that is not like me at all, I am usually very efficient, assess the situation make a plane of attack and execute it.

Years ago I ran across a prayer that really struck a chord with me, I love it so much that I have it framed and on display in my home where I see it every day, I memorized it long ago, it has become a personal mantra for me. I don't know where it is from, if you recognize it please let me know. It goes like this:

                May I be at peace
                May my heart remain open
                May I know the beauty of my own true nature
                May I be healed.

Surgery is Done

Well the surgery is done, I got the chance to see him for a minute. He is out like a light and didn't even know I was there, but I got to at least give him a kiss and whisper in his ear. He is on the respirator, hopefully will come off it tomorrow and if things continue to go well out of ICU by Sunday. The hospital gave me a beeper so they can reach me at any time. We live only 5 minutes from the hospital so I will be in and out all weekend and maybe get the chance to get some sleep.

A great big thank you to everyone for all the wonderfully supportive comments, it really did help me get through the wee hours last night while I was waiting to go back to the hospital.

On The Heart Lung Machine

I just received an update, they have a wonderful lady who works here who is taking excellent care of me. That's a real good thing as I am going on 30+ hours with no sleep. Musicman is now on the heart lung machine and they are bypassing the blockages, the nurses report that things are going very well. In about 1/2 hr I am off to a class on how to take care of him at home. I probably already know this stuff, but it gives me something to do and you never know when I will learn something new. Ok have to run as this computer is in the waiting room of the hospital and they have "the naughty" sites time limited. Their words, not mine, this is one of the sites that is limited.

Its now a few hours later, this post didn't publish for some reason, not my computer, who knows. Anyway, things are still going well, they are working on the grafts now. I will get to see him sometime tonight, but he will be on a respirator so won't be able to talk. For having been up  35+ hours I am getting a second wind and feel pretty good. The staff here has been wonderful and are taking great care of both of us.

In Surgery

I'm in the cardiac icu waiting room. They limit access, so can only be on this site for 10 minutes at a time. Musicman has been in surgery for almost 2 hours now, they anticipate about 6 or 7 hours of surgery. I am very grateful for all the supportive comments. Thank you all for helping me get through this. I am also grateful that Doc listened to us and got us here before the worst happened. They are saying about a 2 month recovery time, then we should be good as new. Wonder if it is inappropriate to ask how long before we can play? I probably will ask anyway. Gonna go now before this computer kicks me off the site. I will give more updates as am able. Thank you all.

Update

We went for the cardiac cath this morning. It was worse than we thought, he has 5 blockages. The doctor who did the cath told me it was a miracle he was still alive. His Aortic Artery is 90% blocked, three of the blockages are 80% and one is 100%. They admitted him, I have to be at the hospital at 4:30 a.m if I want to see him before they take him to surgery. Needless to say I will be there, they say the surgery will take approximately 6 hours, then a few days in ICU and probably a week before he comes home.

Armor and Submission

In my last post I talked some about my armor. Not only does it not fit anymore, but I really don't even want to wear it. I've always been aware of it, even actively fortified it when the need arose. Over the years it has been melting away, layer by layer, until it became very thin. That didn't bother me at all because I didn't need that thick armor anymore, I had my shield of protection to hide behind, Musicman.

So where did it go? Why is it gone now?

I think it now sits in the spot on the shelf where I have stored my submission all these years. I never thought of myself as submissive, but the plain truth is I am. I have had no problems over the years with people knowing that I defer to my husband, in fact I take pride in it. No one ever mentioned the word submission to me and I never made the connection. Neither did Musicman, when push comes to shove he will admit that of the two of us I am the less dominant one, but he doesn't think of me as submissive. How did we both miss this? It's not like we weren't aware of the word or it's meaning.

I've often thought of relationships in the context of decorating a home. At the beginning of the relationship, you move in and you both bring baggage. Like most people we didn't just dump the baggage out and find a spot for everything. No, we took our time emptying the bags, we reviewed and examined things, we decided what needed to be kept and what needed to be tossed. Then we slowly started to arrange things in a way that would be pleasing to the eye.

Apparently I found my submission at the bottom of one of those bags, I knew I wanted to keep it but I didn't know what to do with it. It got put up on a high shelf, out of sight, but always there. Occasionally, when needed, I would bring it out and dust it and then put it back on the shelf.

Now it seems that I have taken my submission off that high shelf, I've dusted it off, but I haven't put it back. I want to keep it with me, I want to be aware of it and the person I am when I embrace it. What I am finding though, is the submissive person I am won't wear the armor. It's heavy and uncomfortable, I can't feel things the same way when the armor is on. I like the way I feel when I have my submission with me. I feel more joy from life, I feel free and unencumbered, the armor doesn't allow for that.

I think it might be time to go see the armor maker, I need some that will fit my submission.


On a side note to let you all know, we will be at the hospital at 6 a.m. tomorrow, it is going to be a long day especially since the time I will need to get up and get ready is about the time I usually fall asleep. If I click my heels three times and say, "let it be over" will it work?

Looking for Balance

I've been thinking about balance lately.

Balance: a situation in which different aspects or features are treated equally or exist in the correct relationship to each other.

Balance: a force, influence, or idea that is completely different from another but combines well with it.

 

Usually we are pretty good at being in balance, existing in the correct relationship to each other. We are forces that are completely different but combine well, usually.

 

That is not to say that things are, or have ever been 50-50. Sometimes things are 60-40, or 75-25, and there have been times when things were 99-1. The percentage of give and take does not have to be equal to be balanced. As long as both of us are getting what we need without taking more than the other has to offer, then we feel balance. When we are able to provide what the other needs, we are in balance.

 

I don't feel balanced right now. He needs more then I have to offer. He needs my strength right now. I'm trying to provide him with that. But, my strength comes from him, so how do I offer him the strength he needs without totally sapping either him or myself?

 

Previously this would not have been a problem for me. I am strong, I have heard that my whole life, and I believed it. I have had to be strong to carry the armor required to protect myself. When he promised to protect me a small chink appeared in that armor. A chink so minute it was practically invisible, but he saw it and established a foothold. Once he was inside he slowly started working to chip away the armor, small piece by small piece. And he was right there helping me keep my balance as each of those pieces fell away.

He achieved his goal, total exposure, the armor is gone, I don't need it any more because I have him. I'm totally vulnerable, and I like it that way, until I am faced with having to be the strong one once again. Then I need to put that armor back on long enough to bring us both through the fight unscathed.

I tried to put the armor back on, but I found it a lot heavier than it used to be. It paralyzes movement, it impedes function, instead of making me strong it weighs me down. It unbalances me, so I put it aside and in it's place is a facade. A facade of strength that I'm trying desperately not to drop, because he needs my strength right now and he deserves no less. I need to find my balance so I can offer it to him.

Thank You and Other Stuff

Thank you everyone for all the supportive comments. I shared with PK in an email that I don't have a life long friend, I've never been good at making attachments to people and usually don't relate well to women. My husband is my best friend and has been the only constant in my life for over half my life. I do have one close friend I could confide in, but her husband has heart disease more severe than my husband and he has opted not to have surgery to fix it. It has effected their relationship to the point that they have not been intimate in over 2 years. She trys to be supportive, but really just isn't capable of it in this area. I have no family to rely on, the little bit of family my husband has left he has chosen not to tell. He is a very private guy. So if I didn't have this place to put my thoughts or you folks to be supportive I would have no one. Thank you is really not enough, but, thank you.

Yesterday was a hectic day of phone calls getting everything scheduled for the heart cath. We will be at the hospital very early next Thursday for the procedure. If things go well he will be able to come home that night with everything fixed up. That's our goal, so I am going to keep that in the forefront of my mind. There is a possibility he may have to spend a night in the hospital, we won't know until after the procedure. I hope he doesn't, we aren't used to being apart. The only times in the last 26 years we have been together that we haven't slept in the same bed has been times of hospitalization. Since I already don't sleep well I am not looking forward to him not being here.

We are supposed to be going to his christmas party next Saturday night, the one I bought the little black dress for. I don't know if we will be able to attend or not, all depends on how he feels. If the only thing I have to sacrifice is a chance to go out and party and wear a new dress I consider myself lucky.

I took some inspiration from a post by Kitty at Sweet Surrender, she posted about doing a daily status post on Facebook about why she loves her husband. My husband is not on facebook, so no need to do that. Instead, I have been writing him little notes and putting them in his shirt pocket when he leaves in the mornings. Some are sweet, some are sexy and some are just down right naughty. He told me he doesn't want to throw them away, but doesn't know where to put them. I had no suggestions for him. While doing some laundry yesterday I found where he decided to put them, his underwear drawer.  That made me smile.

You may have noticed I never gave my husband a name on here. I don't have a particular pet name for him, most often I call him baby.  But I call everyone honey, sweetie, baby and such. It's just a habit I have, it makes my teenage son's friends blush when I do it with them. Picking a name for myself was easy. Faerie is not a nickname, but I have an uncommon obsession with faeries. I have them throughout my house in many forms from wind chimes to statues to pictures. Three of my eight tattoos are faeries. No brainer there when picking a name for me, not as easy to pick one for hubby.

I have been thinking about it quite a bit and it kind of hit me this morning what I am going to call him. My husband is a gifted musician, he plays guitar and has a beautiful singing voice, though he isn't real comfortable about singing in front of people. He has declined many offers to be in bands over the years, he says it requires alot of practice time and he would rather spend that time with me. Doc currently has a band and has been trying to get my husband to join for a few years now. He has sat in with them on occasion, but I don't think he will ever do it at the level Doc would like. I think its sexy that he plays guitar, watching his hands when he plays makes me hot. I won't even go into how it effects me when he plays the harmonica. I have decided to call him Musicman. Faerie and Musicman, kinda has a ring to it, don't you think? 

Changing Dynamics

It's 2:30 in the morning and I can't sleep. The health issues with my husband are weighing heavily on my mind. Four days from today is the anniversary of my husband's transplant. That was a very challenging time. He inherited a disease from his mother that caused the need for the transplant. It was several years of his health deteriorating and invasive treatments before he received the transplant. It was more of a challenge then either of us wanted to deal with.  I always think of the donor family and how hard it must have been for them to suffer such a loss, especially at this time of year. I know the strength it must have taken for them to make the decision to donate his organs. I owe my husband's life and our happiness to people I will never meet.

During the time of his illness and treatments he was so sick that he worked and slept . Everything else fell to me to take care of. Our children were 4 and 9 at the time. During the time he was hospitalized with the transplant I became his primary caretaker. That is after all how I make my living. I know what superior care is and expect no less. I do not accept no excuses. I know how to work the system and have the connections to get what I want. I took excellent care of him.

One thing we encountered during this time was a major change in the dynamics of our relationship. He became my patient, I lost the connection to him as my husband and lover. I applied a clinical and professional approach to his care, I had to in order to survive. We were both aware of it and once he recovered we made a conscious effort to fix it.

We had hoped that he would not inherit the heart disorder that runs in his father's side of the family. That is not the case. His doctor that he sees to maintain his transplant has been blowing him off and telling him that old age and depression were responsible for his symptoms. He's not old, only 47 and he certainly is not depressed.  About the same time that I sent him the first email asking about exploring a D/s relationship a good friend of ours finished his medical training and started practicing medicine.  He is now treating my husband.

After the first round of tests Doc called me to discuss the results. During the course of the discussion I asked him if the diagnosis meant no more kinky sex. As I said, he is a good friend and was not surprised by the question. This is what his answer was," I'll make you a deal, you keep him alive until I can fix him." Not the deal I would have wished for, but the best I was gonna get. Want to know a sure fire libido killer, how about knowing that what you are doing could kill your partner? It's like ice water to the face, or at least it was for me.

Over the past couple weeks it has become apparent to me that my husband has not been as forthcoming with his symptoms as I would have liked.  We had the second round of tests yesterday, he is much sicker then either of us thought. Doc called 1/2 hour after we got home from the hospital to discuss the results and the course of treatment. My husband has major blockages in his heart, we should be hearing from the hospital today to schedule a heart cath with stent placement. Best case scenario would be that that fixes the problem. There is the possibility of things being more complicated then the tests show. He may need open heart surgery.

I can already feel the dynamics changing and not in the direction either of us wants. It was my email that caused my husband to go see Doc and get this issue taken care of, I see that as a positive. Now I just need to be strong enough to walk that fine line between wife and caregiver long enough for Doc to fix him. I'm not sure how I am going to do that, but I don't have any other choice. I love my husband more than words allow me to express and I will do anything to keep him healthy.

Doc, being the friend he is to us is doing everything he can to help us get this done as quickly and easily as possible. I hope you will bear with me if things get a bit vanilla around here.

If the sun shines on you today, take a moment, turn your face up, and really feel the warmth on your skin. No one is promised tomorrow.

A Step Back

So, I ended my last post by saying I give up. Let's get real here people. I'm not giving up, I never give up when I want something. Worse than a dog with a bone I am.

I also know that ignoring it will not make what I'm feeling go away, if it did, I would have ignored it a long time ago and never said a word about it to my husband.

So where does that leave me now? I'm not really sure, taking a break at the very least.

Several people left comments asking if my husband reads here. He does not, in fact, he knows I read blogs, he's seen me leaving comments and he knows I write. He encourages the writing. He has never once asked if I write a blog nor has he asked me to share any of my writing.  He is totally uninterested in any information other than what I tell him.  That is one of the reasons I have decided to take a step back. 

We have the next set of medical tests coming up this week for him. We are dealing with a potentially life threatening condition that is going to involve surgical intervention to fix. We just don't know how invasive the procedure is going to be yet. That is another reason to take a step back.

I have started a 2 phase test for a potential job, one I really want. I need to focus my attention on the testing or I will have no one to blame but myself for blowing a chance at my dream job. This process will take a month or more. Another reason to take a step back.

Probably the most important reason to take a step back right now would be my husband. We do not in anyway think alike. We don't approach problems and issues the same way. We learn differently. I tend to rush in where angels fear to tred. He always looks at all the angles, makes all the comparisons, considers all the repercussions. He is also capable of surprising me at any minute with something said or something done. Sometimes I just need to take a step back and give him the chance to surprise me.

Need and Frustration

He has asked me to be patient. I'm trying but patience is a virtue I wasn't blessed with.

I don't want to need this anymore.

I'm tired of hearing myself talk.

I'm exhausted from trying to explain things I don't fully understand.

Expectations were high, reality did not meet the expectation.

Frustration and hurt reign supreme.

If I ignore this need will it go away?

Why can't he just read my mind?

I give up.

Menopause Brain = A Spanking

My insomnia is back and that is triggering menopause brain. For anyone who doesn't know what that is, it's when I completely lose my ever lovin' mind.  I can be fine one second and the next I'm diving off the cliff to craziness. I hate it and my poor husband isn't too fond of it either.  When we were first together I had an extended bout with severe PMS. I irritated myself to the point I couldn't stand to be in my own skin. A med change fixed that and things were great. Then almost 10 years ago I was diagnosed with early onset menopause. I had mostly physical symptoms, Aunt Flo was in residence more then she wasn't. I did not have the crazy mood swings. I have a wonderful doctor who performed an experimental procedure, same day surgery and back to normal the next day with no more monthly visits. Yep I haven't had a period in a decade, but I have all my original parts. Earlier this year the mood swings came on with a vengeance. I am not a big medication taker and am not a good candidate for hormone replacement therapy, so I have been handling it homeopathically, diet, exercise and vitamins, with some success.  Unfortunately, yesterday having had only about an hour of sleep, a sick kid and a senile dog who has forgotten he needs to go outside to do his business, I skyrocketed off the cliff and crashed hard. Add to that the frustration of trying to find a job in a dying city and constant rain that caused a large tree limb to fall onto my husband's vehicle and all I really wanted to do was run away from life. Obviously not possible, so on I went struggling through the day.

My husband is much better at handling these moods then I am, but last night it wasn't working. I exploded on him, this never happens and he didn't know what to do. I know what he should have done, what would have worked, and now he does too. Yes, I told him I need him to do WHATEVER it takes to bring me back from the bottom of the cliff. Ya'll are smart people I'm sure you know what I'm referring to here. I must admit the look on his face when I said that did make me laugh. 

One of the things we have been having a hard time figuring out is, in our case, having been together for so long and not needing to change our day to day life how do we incorporate ttwd into our life. He is more then willing to do whatever I want him to do. But, therein lies the current problem, I can't tell him how to be dominant. He has asked me to be patient while he works it out. I get that and don't have a problem with it. He is naturally dominant, but not with me. With me he is Mr. laid back, whatever I want I get. It makes all my friends jealous. It makes me very happy.

He tells me all the time he has two priorities in life:

1. provide for and protect me 
2. make me happy

Really, what more could a girl ask for?  For the last 26 years, nothing. Now, I need more and am having somewhat of a hard time figuring it out. Last night was a bit of a breakthrough, now we both know what I need, what will help. Yes, I know, I claim to be a smart woman, this should have been obvious. I said I was smart, I didn't say I was quick about it.  We still have the issue of lack of privacy due to a night owl teenager in the house. We are also still dealing with the health issue. But I am caustiously optimistic that we will have a good holiday season and that we are starting to have a little bit of definition as to how this will work for us. Of course I think I am prepared to be patient and I expect that we will have our slips. I know the conversations will continue and things will work out. Next time menopause brain kicks in please remind me of that. Also any suggestions on dealing with the mood swings are appreciated.

And on a completely vanilla note, I received an email this morning offering me the chance to start the hiring process for my dream job, so keep your fingers crossed, or say a prayer, or do both, cause I really, really want this job.

Let's Dance

During our many conversations over the last week my husband kept saying he didn't want anything in our everyday life to change. He feels if he were to micromanage me I would kick his ass(his words). Once I stopped laughing I agreed he was right. Such a smart guy he is. But really, we have been together a long time and we worked all the details so to speak out a long time ago. When we were first together we fought not alot, but when we did fight they were bad. During one particularly bad fight I threw a coffee table at him. I'm really not the type to throw or break things when I get mad, in fact that's the only time somthing like that ever happened. Thank the good lord I didn't actually hit him with it. And let me just say here, he has never raised a hand to me in anger and he never would, hurting a woman is not in his DNA. He has punched a few walls, broke his hand once doing it. Well after that incident I went to the bookstore and looked at the relationship and self help books. I had scared the every lovin' crap out of myself and didn't want it to happen again. I found a couple that resonated with me, so I bought them and took them home. As I read them I discussed them with hubby, the things in the books made sense to him too. We used a lot of strategies in those two books to learn how to effectively communicate with each other. We learned alot about ourselves and each other. Some of the things were difficult to do, but we kept at it and things got better between us and the strategies soon became like second nature for us. So no need to reinvent the wheel here. He was relieved to hear I agreed with him in that respect.

So I went back and looked at the books recently.  Books are the one thing I never get rid of, too Fahrenheit 451ish for me. I wanted to see if these books in any way alluded to Dominance and submission or anything like that. They didn't, just communication skills. So I guess I really am a naturally submissive woman, cause I really don't struggle with it at all. Of course I'm only that way with him, in most any other relationship I'm the Dominant.  Oddly enough I don't struggle or need an adjustment time when switching between the two either. Okay, I was prepared to accept that I might really be naturally submissive and had just suppressed it due to the circumstances I grew up with. But something has been niggling away at the back of mind about it. Seems my subconscious wasn't quite as prepared to accept that label as I was.

Then I remembered one of the worst fights we had ever had, you would think me throwing a coffee table would be it, but sadly no. The one thing that always caused the worst fights between us was my dancing. I've said before I love to dance and I still dance alot, almost every day.  Now the easiest way to explain why my dancing caused such problems is tell you something my husband's best friend said about it. He told my husband I could make millions on the pole. Yeah, he meant a stripper pole. Now I have never removed my clothes while dancing, except for my husband, I do that all the time. I have also never made any money dancing, too prostitutey for me. I know that's not a word, but I don't think the grammar police care too much. 

Anyway, hubby likes the way I dance, he just doesn't care for the way strangers react to it. Mainly they come on to me. I always turn them down, but it has caused him to get in a few, or maybe more, fights with other guys.  So one night I was dancing, hubby was playing pool, our usual night out at the time. A guy approached me and started coming on to me,  my hubby has unerring radar for this kind of thing and is instantly at my side when it happens. The guy asked me if I thought he could beat my husband. I told him no I didn't and that it didn't matter anyway since I had come with him I was leaving with him. The guy backed off, I thought I had handled it well.  My husband was more pissed then I could fathom. I had no idea why he was mad at me.  We left for home shortly after that.

Once we got home the fighting commenced, I really just didn't get it.  I mean I had taken care of my self and protected myself all my life and I didn't need him to do it for me. That as it turns out was the problem. He told me he knew I didn't need him to protect me, but he wanted to be the one to protect me. Light bulb moment for me, I guess I was just so used to doing it myself I never even entertained the idea of letting someone else do it.  I made a conscious decision at that moment, I would let him protect me and I would do what I could to make it easier for him.  I do still dance in public on occasion, but only after I have checked with him to see if he is comfortable with it. Sometimes he isn't, I don't do it then, cause his happiness is way more important to me then dancing. That is what really started me down this road. I found someone who could give me the one thing I had never had and didn't know I even wanted, protection.

On Black Friday, I went to my favorite consignment shop and hit the jackpot. We have his holiday party coming up, I found the sparkliest silver heels and the cutest little black dress. The dress looks like the one worn by Marilyn Monroe, the one that blows up around her while she is standing on the grate, except it's black. Both the shoes and dress fit like they were tailor made for me, and bonus the whole outfit only cost $30. I love a good deal. When I modeled them for my husband later that night he said I was going to be the sexiest wife on the dance floor and I was all his. Such a smart man.

I also asked for dance lessons for christmas. He said yes, they start in February. Now don't go trying to picture me in a pink tutu or anything like that. I'm going to learn to belly dance.  Hip wraps and belly chains here I come. HaHaHaHa.

Sorting the Crazy Thoughts

I've had an interesting week, lots of things to think about but haven't really felt much like writing. Now I need to write to sort further. So I'm just going to dive in and see where it goes. 

Thanksgiving day I had a visit from a ghost. I know, I know a little weird, but it's been happening all my life and seems normal to me. I also have prophetic dreams. It occurred mid afternoon and my son observed it also. I didn't find out until around 3:00 a.m. when I was talking with my husband and mentioned it that he had also had an occurrence earlier that evening. My husband was a died in the wool skeptic about that kind of stuff until he met me. He has seen it so often that he no longer finds it odd. I have a brother who is 9 years younger than I am who this also happens to. My son is starting to have occurrences also, it did not surprise any of us in the slightest.

Holidays have been a time of great stress for us. My husband's organ transplant happened two weeks prior to christmas. The hospital was 100 miles from home, our children where young and not able to be with us. I am very thankful that everything has worked out as well as can be expected, but at the time it was a nightmare. This time of year is also when we have lost several family members. My husband's uncle passed during the holidays of the same health issue my husband is dealing with now, he was 2 years older then my husband is. We also lost my father-in-law during the holidays of the same health issue, he was 4 years older then my husband is. Add to that the fact that I had spoken with my husband's doctor on Wednesday before Thanksgiving and I was sinking into melancholia pretty fast. I believe they came to remind me that I am not alone. The next set of tests is in about 10 days. My husband is frustrated because he fatigues very easily, I'm flat out terrified. Now would not seem to be the best time to be talking about the changes I want, but it was actually the first email I sent that motivated him to get checked. So since we have successfully dealt with serious health issues before we will now deal with this too.

After Saturday night when my husband was able to finally help me get some stuff out it was like opening a flood gate. Things would be much easier if he would just let me email him, but he has his reasons for not wanting to communicate that way and I understand and respect those reasons. He has always been like this and is prepared for the consequences, the flood.

He told me he was a little surprised by the email, because I am such a strong woman he didn't think I would ever be interested in D/s. Have I mentioned how tired I am of hearing how strong I am?  If not, I am. Anyway, I of course have my own theories about why this has become an interest of mine. I say interest because even though I have discussed with him that it seems to have become more of a need then a want, that is still something I am wrapping my head around. He has no problems with it and has his own theories on the whys of it. His theory and mine are very different but the truth is somewhere in the mix of both. Not a big surprise to either of us as he often sees the side of things that I don't.

Sunday afternoon we had spent sometime together napping, of course we didn't sleep. I was just drifting off, lying in that wonderful post orgasmic fog when our son knocked on our door to tell us he was going out for awhile. I don't believe he was out the door a second and my husband yanked back the blanket and proceeded to show me that he has absolutely no problems with the fact that I like to be spanked. The only problem he has in fact is the lack of privacy because our son is home most of the time.  Mmm, I love my husbands hands and the wonderful things he does with them, including spanking.  Anyone want a 16 year old boy, just for awhile?

My husband has taken to asking me most nights if I have any crazy thoughts running through my head I want to share. He uses those words specifically because they are my words, that is how I describe it. Sometimes they do feel like crazy thoughts. I mean really, when you tell your husband of so many years, hey, guess what, I think I like pain, how would you feel about spanking me. Seems crazy to me, fortunately for me it doesn't to him.

I was really surprised when he brought up the subject of implements, yeah, him not me. That of course led to me explaining the word pervertables to him. See, that is why he doesn't want me writing to him, he always gets me to say more then I ever plan on.  I didn't see the harm in mentioning pervertables, after all I don't own a hairbrush.  I do cook alot but I don't own a wooden spoon. My dog likes to steal them off the stove and chew them up so I don't use them. I found out how sneaky my husband really is when I was unpacking groceries yesterday and found a hairbrush. I don't even know when he picked it up or how he got it past me at the checkout.  Methinks I have created a monster, I'm just not sure if it's me or my husband.

Happy Thanksgiving

I've decided I no longer like being a deep thinker. My thoughts have been swirling again, this time though I'm not stuck in them. They look like the water spouts out over the lake during a storm. They dance close to the shore but everytime I try to grab the tail to start unravelling them, they dance away. Mean water spouts, come back here. Sooner or later they will come close enough for me to grab.  I must not be ready yet though so they just keep swirling away. So since I can't even find a place to start I thought it would be good to think about something else.  I've been thinking about all the things in my life I'm grateful for, here are just a few:

My husband, who loves me flaws and all.
My beautiful daughter who lives life on her terms.
My son who made some very bad decisions and is now dealing with the consequences of those decisions. I'm very proud of the way he is handling it all.
The doctor who is finally listening to our concerns about my husbands health issues.
The time I had with the loved ones who are gone now, though I believe they are still with me.
The family that in their time of grief  made the selfless decision to donate the organ that saved my husbands life.
My home, the only safe one I've ever had.
My senile old dog who no longer remembers to go outside to do his business, he has been a constant companion for many years.
My best friend Miss K, the only person other then my husband who really knows me and loves me anyway.
My husbands job, he is very happy and satisfied there.
My brothers and their wives, my closest friends.
The men who have been my husbands friends his whole life, they have become like brothers to me.
The people I've met here in blogland, you are becoming friends to me, you have given me the ability to accept the things about myself I doubted. It is a prescious gift and will be treasured as one.

That is just a few of the things I'm grateful for. I'm a very lucky woman.  Now I'm off to start cooking, I have pies and bread pudding to make. Tomorrow will be a quiet day of watching football and eating turkey. Happy thanskgiving everyone, be well my friends.

Riding on a Rainbow

Saturday night I planned on having a talk with my hubby, just to make sure we were on the same page. I wasn't anxious or worried or anything like that, I actually felt very prepared and confident about it. I knew what I wanted to say, I got as far as "Can we talk".  Then the strangest thing happened, usually if I find myself trying to talk about anything even the slightest bit embarrassing or uncomfortable I get bombarded with thoughts and often can't find a place to start. This did not happen, instead my mind went off the air.  Now what I mean by that is, have you ever seen a TV screen tuned to a channel that is off the air? That's what happened, I could see it clear as day the "bug races" of a channel that's off the air. That's all though, not a coherent thought in my head. Why doesn't that happen when I'm trying to sleep?

So there I sat, with a blank look on my face trying to figure out what was going on.  I'm not real sure how long I sat there before the frustration took over. I cry when I get frustrated, it's the only time I cry. That was not how it was supposed to go, it was just supposed to be a simple conversation. The harder I tried to figure it out the worse it got, the worse it got the more I cried.

My hubby isn't much of a talker, more of a doer, boy did he do. The images of what happened next are playing through my mind like an old fashioned slide show. I'm on my back on the lounge, click, my clothes are being pulled off my body, click, I'm being dragged to the edge of the lounge, click, my husband is looming over me. My body is responding to his ministrations, the emotions are bombarding me. It's like being repeatedly hit in the chest with a paint ball gun. The emotions are exploding, covering me in different colors. I'm hurtling down the rainbow into the pot of gold. Except it's not gold, it's the dark place. Oh no, not again, I haven't had the flashbacks in over two decades. As soon as it registered it was gone, just gone. I was in flight again, flung onto the surface of the sun, where I burned up. Oh, now I'm floating among the stars, I love the stars, so shiny, so twinkly. I think I'll just float here awhile and enjoy the stars.

When I came around I realized I was clutching on to my husband like a drowning person clutches a life preserver.  I remember collapsing back onto the lounge and just lying there. I couldn't feel my body, I was numb all over. I do love that feeling. He laid down next to me and put his hands on either side of my face, looked me straight in the eye and said "You wanted to talk". 

I did eventually recover enough to be able to have a somewhat intelligent conversation. At least I think it was intelligent. There was a slight misunderstanding that we cleared up pretty easily. I feel like we are on the same page now. Then my husband said something that just cracked me up. I'm not entirely sure, but I think my safe word might be "pickles". For some reason I find that very funny, of course he meant it to be funny. Guys and their ill timed humor. I felt much better after I was able to stop laughing. Might have to revisit that safe word thing though, not sure pickles is gonna work. Is hysterical laughter a valid safe word?

My husband's conclusion is this, "you're just a deep thinker, that's all". My assessment is, it's exhausting being a female, but I'll gladly be exhausted to feel like that.

Help! I've been VBA'ed

I owe a big thank you to Kitty and Mikki for this lovely honor. Yes I did initially get stressed, panicked even. Not because I didn't want to tell 7 things about myself, but because I still don't feel real comfortable commenting on many blogs. I read alot more then I comment on. I don't know if I even have 15 I feel comfortable commenting on.  Mikki said she just wanted to shine the spotlight on my blog. A truly nice thing to do, she had no idea I'm the kind of person who totally freezes when the spotlight is on me.  But I gave myself a little mental smack, and then remembered that one of the reasons I'm here is to step outside my comfort zone. So here I go spreading my wings, just a little, not quite ready to fly yet, but I'll get there.  Another reason I am not too comfortable with this is I much prefer to spend my time reading and writing when I should be trying to learn this program. I am still having trouble with basic things and just haven't spent much time trying to figure it out. I get frustrated with it easily and give up.  I'm not sure I can even successfully do that many links. So I have thanked the lovely ladies, now on to 7 things about myself.

I have 8 tattoos, 6 of which were custom drawn for me by my daughter, I  have the original drawings framed in my home.

I know how to weld and would like to someday have my own oxyacetylene tanks and a plasma cutter.

I started going grey at age 15.

I love to sing but am tone deaf so no one likes to listen. I sing anyway.

I don't own a hairbrush or blow dryer or any of that girlie stuff. My hair is long and naturally curly, a pick and leave in conditioner and I'm ready to go.

I have lived on the shores of large bodies of water my whole life( 3 great lakes and 1 ocean), I own a home with a pool but I can't swim and have almost drown 3 times in my life. I do love to skinny dip.

I have a genius IQ.

So there you go, a few things about me. Since it was the part about the other blogs that stressed me out and I believe all the blogs I do comment on have already been chosen I'm gonna chicken out of that part. BOK BOK BOK.  If you read here and I do comment on your blogs and you haven't been nominated, consider yourself nominated. Feel free to say I did it, not a problem. Now I'm gonna go get purty for when hubby gets home. Saturday nights are always playtime and I plan on trying to talk to him some tonight. I'll be leaving the magical socks in the drawer so as not to cause any distractions. Have a lovely weekend everyone and wish me luck.

Darn Socks

Yep, I'm blaming it on the socks. Let me give you a little set up, then I'm sure you'll agree, its the socks.

So, a few months ago I sent my husband an email asking him if he had ever thought about exploring a D/s relationship. I expressed my interest in it and spanking. Like most women I found it incredibly difficult to talk about face to face so I sent the email. He doesn't check his email regularly, it took him over 2 weeks to find it. I was half asleep when he found it. I have been experiencing a particularly vicious bout of insomnia and nightmares and had tried to nap. My husband is not much of a talker, more of a doer. His response as I remember was positive. The nightmares stopped after that but the insomnia stayed with me until I started writing.

While some subtle progress has been made, it has definitely been slow going. A few weeks after the first email I sent him a second one.  After waiting so long to find the first one he had told me to let him know when I sent him one, I did, but found even that hard at the time. After reading it we talked, he told me he would prefer I not email him, he is afterall right here, I can talk to him anytime.  I expected that, he has always listened to me, even when I think I'm crazy he doesn't. Well sometimes he does, but he assures me he doesn't mind and I believe him. He lets me whisper in his ear when I struggle too much to get things out. I have become the queen of whispers lately, so low I can't even hear myself. He hears me though.

During this time I was barely getting 2 hours of sleep a night, he knew this and hasn't pushed. He knows I have been sorting and dealing with stuff, bonus for him, he gets a very clean house and lots of baked stuff. As I've spent this time walking through my mind and trying to figure things out I have had times that I call the dark clouds. They roll in like a sudden summer thunderstorm, they swamp me in confusion and drown me in doubt. I can be stuck for days, exhausted, crying, unable to express anything other then unnameable pain. He has been quietly supportive, willing to give or do anything to help me feel better. The night I posted my first post here, I slept all night, the insomnia is gone. Things have been going well, no storms on the horizon.

During the time I wrote the last few posts I did have a few difficult days. I need to talk to him, he said something the other night, he thinks its something he did that caused the latest storms. But he was very stressed that night, he was having some medical tests done the next day. He has a complicated medical history and that would not have been a good time to talk.  Instead, I asked him what could I do to relieve his stress. I told him I would do anything he wanted to make him feel better. He told me what would make him feel better. I happily did it, have I mentioned his cum is my favorite face cream?  Mmmm, yum yum.

This is where the socks come in, I know I'm a little longwinded some times, so spank me. Heeheehee.  He had the medical tests done yesterday at a local outpatient clinic it was scheduled to take most of the afternoon. I chose to wear a knee length denim skirt with a grey turtleneck sweater and a scarf for a pop of color. I wear a lot of skirts, in fact, I own more skirts then pants. Its cold were I live, its snowing right now. I hate wearing anything on my feet, but I found some divine socks when I was shopping on my Birthday.  I wore the grey pair with my black boots, they come up over my knees and looked like tights with the skirt.

My husband has a habit of checking to see if I'm wearing underwear and if I am, which ones. He particularly liked the combination of the grey socks with the pink string bikinis, or least that what he told me last night while he was busily undressing me. Yeah I thought I was gonna tell him I wanted to talk, he had other ideas. Apparently he could see the tops of the socks through the slit in the back of the skirt when I walked, for some reason he found it distracting. It took him about 30 seconds to strip me down to just the socks, I forgot all about talking.  He soon had me on my back on the lounge, grabbing my thighs and pulling me closer to the edge, positioning himself between my legs.  My husband wears a full beard, the feel of it on freshly shaved lady parts is simply heaven. My juices were dripping off his beard onto my chest when he flipped me over onto my stomach. I love this position, the way he sinks in so deep, my head down, buried in pillows to absorb my screams. I do get loud, my legs spread so wide while my back arches into just the right position for his balls to hit my clit everytime he rams into me. I get purchase on the top of the lounge to plunge back to meet his strokes. Harder, harder, harder, aah, I cum one last time as shoots all over my ass and back.

Yeah, I blame the socks, we never got around to having that talk.  I woke up this morning with just the socks still on and clothes strewn all over the bedroom.

The End

The young man that wouldn't take no for an answer was not my husband. He was a lovely man, boy really. He came into my life at a good time for me. We were both 16 when we met, seniors in high school. He was the oldest of two boys in a close loving family. His parents welcomed me as a daughter. When I wasn't at school or work I was with him, even sleeping over at his house after awhile. My parents were so clueless, they thought that because I went to church with his family regularly on Sundays that meant I wasn't having sex with him on Saturday nights when I stayed at his house. His parents were very open about sex, they had a very healthy and kinky sex life themselves. His parents respected our privacy in a very healthy way. His mother actually walked in on us once, she very calmly apologized, turned around walked out and closed the door. He was the first person I ever told my secret to. I don't know if he ever told his parents, but it wouldn't surprise me if he had. After we graduated he left town to go to college. I went with him. I was finally free.

We spent a total of 4 years together and parted ways amicably when I was 20 years old. I moved back to the city I had grown up in after the breakup. I lived with my ex's parents until I found my own place. I vowed that once I got out of my parents home I would never go back, I never have. Once I was single I worked 2 jobs and partied all night. It was a very carefree time for me, also very irresponsible. I'm convinced I had an entire squadron of guardian angels on my shoulder during that time.  I had made plans with a friend, we were leaving town together, moving to a bigger city with more opportunities. We had a date set and a place to stay setup, a solid plan of action.  Six weeks before I was scheduled to leave I met my husband. I never left town. Don't worry, my friend continued easily with the plan and has been very happy.

My second shift job was a small shift of mostly women older then I was. I had worked there my senior year of high school, they gladly took me back when I moved home. T was going through a divorce, B just liked to cheat on her husband and L, like me was single. We went out together alot.  T and I had gone out one night to our favorite dance spot. It was a small neighborhood bar with a huge bouncer and huge guys behind the bar. All the women knew that they were safe in the bar and the parking lot there. And boy was it a fun place to play, the bar owner encouraged dancing on the bars and the table tops, though there was a strict rule about clothes staying on until you got to a car or off the premises. Now, I LOVE LOVE LOVE to dance and spent my fare share of time on the tabletops and the bar, as well as the dance floor.  It was definitely a fun and relatively safe way to express myself, and of course gave me a great pick of the guys.  This is where I met my husband.

I never saw him coming, both literally and figuratively.  He walked up behind me and asked me to dance. I told him no. He didn't take no for an answer. I had been single a little less then a year, I was having fun and did not want another relathionship at the time. I was planning on leaving town in 6 weeks. I wasn't getting involved.  We married 8 months later. I was just 21 years old.

I held him off for one week and then he got what he wanted, me. Two significant things happened in the early years. The first just three months into our relationship. I knew I would tell him my secret, I couldn't even consider being in a relationship with someone and them not knowing. That didn't mean it would be easy though. I had just met my husbands family a couple weeks prior. His whole, very large family. He took me to christmas at his grandmothers, his family was my gift. They are wonderful, close and loving and almost all males. Yep, I walked into a roomful of 3 generations of alpha males, scary. I love them all, they are great men in very honest, simple ways. Like balm for a broken spirit. My husband knew I was not close with my family, I had not seen them for the holidays. Just a few weeks later my mother showed up on my doorstep early one Sunday morning. We were still half asleep when we answered the door, she stood on my doorstep and screamed at me. She thought even after all these years she could tell me what to do, I stayed calm, told her to get off my property or I would call the police. I closed the door and turned around to see a look on my husbands face I never wanted to see.

Because of who his family was he didn't understand what could be so bad to make me treat my mother that way. I had to tell him my secret then wether I was ready or not. I told what I needed to tell. He asked all the questions he needed to ask and I answered them all honestly. A look of pure rage was on his face, his hands were curled into tight fists. I was devastated. He punched a couple things, not me, but I didn't know what to do, I sat there quietly crying. Once the initial rage passed and he realized he was scaring me, he made it clear it was not me he was upset with. No, its wasn't me, he wanted to kill my father.  It actually took me quite awhile to talk him out of it. It was only when I was able to get him to understand that I would lose him if he did it that he stopped. He really was going to kill him.

I stopped seeing my family altogether after that. Shortly after we married the next significant thing happened. We fought passionately, we loved more passionately. There was a connection I had with him from the beginning that I had never had with anyone. Not even with highschool boy. No matter how bad the fight or what we went through, sex was always our connection. Along with that connection came something I had never experienced or expected. I started having flashbacks.

We would be in the middle of being intimate and BAM, a memory and I would freak out. I would become instantly hysterical and fight with everything I had to get away or get him off me.  If I could get away from him I would run to the farthest corner from him and curl into a ball sobbing and babbling incoherently. He learned quickly not to let me get away from him. It was an intense time that I am not ready to talk about. I don't know if I ever will other then to say, he always helped me. I don't know how he knew what to do, but he always did. We were never able to pinpoint any definite triggers or any kind of pattern. But, I see now that we both suppressed some things. The flashbacks did fade and I haven't had one in over 20 years. 

I never became close with my parents again, until 11 years ago. I was working at the local trauma center, my father had a stroke and was brought by ambulance to where I worked. By this time I had worked in healthcare quite awhile, my family deferred to me to make all the decisions. I made the decision to put him on life support when he lapsed into a coma. My youngest brother was in the Navy, we had to go through the red cross to get him home, I did my best to keep my father alive until my brother got there. My mother didn't want him left alone so she and my brothers were there during the day. I was there every night. 3 days after his stroke we were out of treatment options, I made the decision to take him off life support. I also made the decision to donate his organs. I was with him when he died. I made all the funeral arrangements. I became my mother's primary caretaker, she is disabled.

Since my father's death my mother has told me that he never believed he did anything wrong. She believes he did something wrong, but she doesn't think it adversely affected me.
My mother is a bitter old woman now, I took care of her until a year and a half ago when I got caught in the middle of a fight between her and my youngest brother. She put me in a position of having to pick between the two of them, I did not pick her. That is the end of the story. Now I feel like I can start a new story.

Let's Celebrate

I wrote this post several weeks ago. I felt like writing it but not posting it. I find myself drowning in negativity and I'm going down for the last time. So I decided I would post this to try and clear the negative energy and welcome in the positive. At this point I don't know what comes next.

What do you want for your birthday?
That's the question my husband asked me a few weeks ago.
 I thought about it for a few minutes. I told him I really just wanted to spend the day with him. He works 6 days a week and we have a teenager at home.  I'm so jealous of empty nesters(PK). Yeah, that's what I wanted, uninterrupted time with him alone. No obligations or expectations from ayone but ourselves. He told me he would have to check and see if he had any vacation time left, alot had been used up over the last 6 months dealing with issues with our son.

So, did he have the time to take?

Yes, he did and this was my gift.

He left me asleep in our bed while he got up and played taxi for our kids, something that usually occupies the first 2 hours of my day.

I woke up to his hands leisurely strolling about my body, my favorite way to wake up.

He had coffee ready for me. I don't function without it.

We showered and dressed and then went shopping. There was somewhere particular I wanted to go and several things I wanted to look at. I like to take my time and browse, consider this, reject that. That's exactly what I did while he patiently followed me around and held things for me. When I got tired of doing that, he paid for all my finds and we went to lunch.  I had ice cream. I love ice cream, with lots of hot fudge and whipped cream. Thats exactly what I had. It was yummy. I was a good girl, I shared.

When we got home he asked me if I was ready for my birthday spanking?

Ready, was I ready? Please, the butterflies had been growing in my stomach all day in anticipation. That's the real reason I shared my ice cream, too excited to eat.

He took my hand and led the way to our bedroom. Flap, flap, flap. I swear that's all I could hear.

We have a double chaise lounge in our room. I'm tall 5" 10", this lounge is the perfect height for many many fun things. He took his time undressing me, I knelt on the floor in front of the chaise and bent forward.  I had a pillow clutched under my chest, the anticipation was about to do me in.  

Whack.....  aah, the feel of his hand, I love his hands.
Whack.....  aah, there it is, that connection. Its a connection to him most certainly, but for me, its a very primal thing. Instant energy streaking through me to that point so deep inside. Dissapearing into a pinpoint. Followed instantly by the explosion of pure pleasure. He kept going, I didn't even try to count. I was flying in that wonderful place where the stars dance among the fireworks. Explosions of color intensifing in my mind as I felt his tongue and the nips of his teeth. I didn't think my back could arch that high anymore. My knees were no where near the floor. I didn't hear his zipper or have any awareness of him shedding his clothes. He moved me around the lounge like I was a rag doll.  Oh that wonderful dizzyness and disorientation of the sudden position changes.  His hands, his mouth everywhere at once, I'm caught in a maelstrom of sensation. Up, up, up and over the edge I go. He'd slow and let me come back and then start again. This must be what heaven feels like. Thank you god for multiple orgasms.


We napped for awhile, had some snacks then moved to our waterbed where I proceeded to thank him most kindly for my gift.

Birthday wishes do come true. Even if you don't blow out a candle.

The Aftermath

About the time that I started the dreadful therapy my mother came to me and told me, "it would never happen again", meaning my father would never touch me again. She also said that if I ever told anyone my father would be put in jail and I would end up in juvie. Nice way to place the blame for what happened squarely on me. My father never said a word to me about any of it.  From that day on I had one goal, to survive and get out of that house. 

My father did try to touch me again, once. About a year later I was standing looking out the front door of our home. He came up behind me and put his hand between my legs. I didn't even take the time to think, I just reacted. I came around swinging, he moved and I didn't connect. I don't remember what I said, I just remember the rage, my whole focus had narrowed in an instant to just the two of us. In that moment I would have killed him without a qualm. Whatever I said was effective because he never tried again after that.

A few months later I started high school, on the surface I looked like the typical high school kid. School had always been rather easy so good grades weren't a problem. I participated in many school activities and I started working just a few weeks into my freshman year. I spent most weekends sleeping at girlfriends houses and didn't have a steady boyfriend until my senior year.

No one bothered to look past the surface, no one ever saw the double life I was leading. I worked because I knew I would need money to achieve the goal I had set for myself to get out. I participated in activities because those along with working kept me away from home. The real reason I slept at friends houses was because it was a good cover story to tell my parents.

You see I had been left with an awareness. An awareness of the power of my body. It was clear to me that men wanted my body. That made me feel powerful and confident. I could use my body to get whatever I wanted or to do whatever I wanted. I realized I could use my body to control men. And I did. By the age of 14 I was regularly hanging out in bars, playing with the men I met. I would tease them, tell them I had a specialty, would they like to know what it was?  Sometimes I would tell them and then walk away. Sometimes I didn't walk away, sometimes we went somewhere and I showed them my specialty. This fed into the feelings of power I felt, I was the one in control and it felt good.
I never played with the boys at school this way, there was more then one whom I dated casually and tried to get me to give it up. I never did, until my senior year when I met a guy who just wouldn't take no for answer.

Welcome Lurkers

Hello everyone, today is Love our Lurkers day.  I'm very new to blogging having started just 2 weeks ago. A little less then a year ago I was one of you, a lurker. I was interested in exploring spanking and D/s with the intent of incorporating it into my marriage of 25 years. It was an interest that I had suppressed for a long time.  So I went exploring and found a wonderful community. I felt like I had found a place of like minded people. I learned lots and confused myself more than I ever thought I could. I have to tell you I lurked almost till the day I made my first post. I was very nervous about commenting. I would read a post and have tons of things I wanted to say and questions to ask, then I would click on the comment box and my mind would go blank. Nothing, all the thoughts in my head, gone.  The few times I was able to make some kind of half way intelligent comment I worried I would sound stupid or arrogant, I worried I would be judged. I'm very happy to say if anyone found me stupid or arrogant they have never said so. If they judged me, they didn't show it.

Since I have started my own writing I feel more comfortable about commenting. It may be naive of me, but I don't worry about being judged anymore, mainly because I don't judge others. Also because I am making some lovely friends. People just like me, yet different. I find the differences interesting.

I am working through my issues and getting wonderful support from the friends I am making. It is like therapy for me, only much cheaper. The different opinions and points of view often stimulate me to see things I may not have seen, to consider things in a way I may have never considered.

I'm still working on learning the blogger program, any tech savvy people out there?  I could use all the help I can get, so any tips, hints, advice, simple instructions, feel free to share. I'd be grateful for the help.  I'm probably one of the least tech savvy people left, but I'm trying.  Feel free to browse through the blogroll, I'm still adding some of the blogs I follow, some I've added don't seem to be showing up and I'm not sure why. Any suggestions would be appreciated.

If you have any comments or questions on anything I post, don't be shy, speak up. I like the mental stimulation and you won't be judged here, even if  your opinion is diametrically opposite of mine. It's ok, you never know, what you have to say might be something I need to hear. If you're like me and get stage fright when you click on the comment box the only suggestion I have is say Hi, that always works.  If you would be comfortable commenting by email, go ahead, click on the little envelope and send an email. That's what I eventually did, reached out by email to another blogger, PK at http://elisnewbeginnings.blogspot.com/ She has been encouraging and supportive every step of the way. I am very fortunate to be able to call her a friend.   I can always use another friend, so go ahead, leave a comment, ask a question or just say Hi.

My Secret

The following post deals with a very difficult subject for me. It will be raw and unedited as that is the only way I can do it.  I am writing this for myself only with the only consideration for anyone who chooses to read it being my regret that I am spewing so much negative energy into the world. But I simply can't keep it in anymore.


I have a secret. It's a secret I have carried my whole life. It is not a secret I kept by choice, as a child it was forced upon me. As an adult I tried to stop letting it be a secret, but I soon found out that it was just too painful for most people to hear. So it remained a secret. This isn't the first time I have dealt with it. I've lived my life for long periods of time without it intruding.  I haven't dealt with it alone, I haven't kept this a secret from my husband.  I would not have survived or had the wonderful life I have had without him. I have long considered him my reward for surviving. He made me strong enough to stop being a victim and become a survivor. This is my secret.

I am an incest survivor.
My father raped me, he used me, repeatedly for years.
My biological father taught me how to sexually service him.
I still feel the disgust of my childhood memories.

My first memory is of my mother, pregnant with my brother. My father told me that while she was in the hospital having my brother I would be sleeping with him in their bed. I knew what would be expected of me. The things I would have to let him do and the things I would have to do to him. I didn't want to do it, but I wasn't given a choice. My brother is 3 1/2 years younger then me. He doesn't know my secret.

My next memory, I'm sitting in a rocking chair in our living room, I'm about 7 or  8yrs old. I was sitting quietly reading a book. I read everything I could get my  hands on. My mother was having tea with a friend in the kitchen. The lady was a neighborhood mother with kids my siblings and I played with regularly. She often came over for tea with mom. I doubt they knew I could hear them from where I sat reading. My mother was mad at my father about something, I heard to her say to her friend that she was cutting my father off from sex. I so distinctly still hear her words, "He can go stick it in a coke bottle for all I care". All I could think of was no, it wasn't going to be a coke bottle. I knew things would be getting worse for me. I started to cry, but I knew if my mother heard me crying she would come and ask me about it. I couldn't tell her. I was afraid that when I couldn't tell her she would get mad and take my book away. She knew that would be worse for me then the belt. That didn't really work anymore. So she had started taking my books away. So, I stopped crying. I didn't cry again for a very long time.

I know that my father must have said something to me at some point to get me not to say anything. I always knew it was wrong. I never wanted to do those things. But every time I would think about telling I get over whelmed with dread. I still do.  It pisses me off that I can't remember what he said that made me know I couldn't tell anyone. I have tried to rationalize that it really doesn't matter anymore. But I still get pissed about it.

I was 10 yrs old when I started my menstrual cycle. It didn't stop him. I had read enough to worry about getting pregnant. Which I did, until it stopped about a year later.

It's common where I live to have showers in the basements, the homes are old, many still have the original claw foot tubs in the bathrooms. That's what we had in our home, a big heavy claw foot tub, so my parents put in a shower in the basement. The basement wasn't finished, the washer and dryer were just a few feet from the shower curtain. I was 11 1/2 yrs old. I was sitting in the living room reading. My mother was doing something and asked me to get the laundry from the dryer. My father was down there taking a shower. I didn't want to go down there, I knew if I did he would get me.  I tried to tell her I would get it as soon as dad was done in the shower. But she insisted. She threatened to use the belt. Getting beat with the belt was nothing new I had been beat with it many times throughout my life by both of them. Welts from my knees to my mid back were not uncommon. Actually, they hardly did that anymore, it just didn't work. I would take whatever they gave and never let out a peep. But, I just got tired of arguing and went to get the laundry. I wasn't down in the basement long enough to even begin to get the laundry. He heard me open the basement door and come down the stairs. He was waiting with the shower still going and the shower curtain open. A few minutes later when I didn't come back up my mother came down to see what was going on. My father didn't hear her coming down.  I was on my knees, in front of him, his hand was on my head I got pushed away and told to go to my room.  And that's it. that's all I remember about that. Except, I do feel like she set me up.

A few weeks after that I started going to therapy, it was awful. I had to get out of school early, but I couldn't tell any of my school friends where I was going or why. I had to take the bus downtown by myself once a week. It was fall into winter time. It is cold and dark and snowy where I live at those times of the year. The whole experience of getting there was so terrifying and I could tell the therapist was just guiding me to say certain things so she could say I was ok. So I figured out what to say as soon as I could so I wouldn't have to do it anymore.

I wish I could say that was the end, oh how I wish that was the end. In a way it is the end, but it is also a beginning, there is more I need to say. I have to follow it to the end. The end is where I'm at now. I want this to be the end and the beginning. Be well my friends, I'm sorry if this caused any pain.

Stuck in the vortex

I'm stuck in a vortex of negative emotions. They're swirling around me and dragging me down.

I have been dealing with something very ugly, very negative. It's something I have dealt with before, more then once. Every time I think it is going to be the last time. I think its gone and won't effect me anymore. When it surfaced again many months ago, it pissed me off. I couldn't believe that here it was again. This issue I had dealt with before and thought I had put behind me for good. I really thought it couldn't hurt me anymore. I've been dealing with all the same emotions again that surround it. The anger and rage that I have to face it again. The pain and betrayal of what occurred. The guilt that I feel because I'm not strong enough to not let this effect me. It's a ghost that stands between us, that holds me back from being the person I want to be. I've wrestled with how to deal with it. I've considered just forgetting everything and being happy with what I have. After all, what I have is great, maybe it would be better to just push it back down and ignore it. If I don't pursue my interest in spanking and D/s then this issue will eventually go away. I tried, I stepped back many times, stopped lurking, stopped reading and learning. But I'm a greedy bitch, as good as things are I want more. I don't want this to limit me anymore. So I started this blog, knowing that eventually it would come out and hoped it would help me to finally get past it for good. I've been gathering my strength to write about it, to face the issue and put it to rest.  I'm afraid it will completely break me and I won't be able to recover. I feel like a dam waiting to burst and when it does all the ugliness will spew forth and I won't be able to stop it.  I have been doing a relatively good job of keeping it under control and not letting it effect our relationship. Until Saturday night. I made the mistake of letting my guard down. I was riding the high from Friday night. I felt like I had a breakthrough Friday night. In the euphoria of my accomplishment I mistakenly thought, maybe I don't need to write about it, maybe I can work it out by myself.  Wrong. Saturday night my husband said something, something that if I had had my guard up would never have hurt me. But, I didn't have my guard up and in a flash there it was, right in my face. I've been stuck in the vortex of emotions ever since. It definitely effected the rest of our weekend.   When I'm upset I don't lash out, I get quiet, very quiet. We barely spoke to each other yesterday. I did explain when asked that I was hurt by what he said. He apologized, but I could tell by the look on his face he doesn't understand. I haven't told him that this issue has come back. I think he probably suspects it. I catch him watching me sometimes, just watching me. He probably wonders, but he doesn't ask.  He doesn't ask, cause if that's not it, he doesn't want to be the one to bring it up and cause me pain. I haven't told him because it makes me feel like a burden to him. Like I'm flawed and he deserves someone better. I always think I can protect him from this when in reality I'm not strong enough to protect anyone. So here I sit, stuck in the vortex, swirling down, down, down. The ugliness is welling up, I can't control it anymore. The dam is going to burst, and its going to be ugly.