No Rest For The Darling!

I can’t sleep. This unholy combination of physical pain and emotional dizziness serves as a condom…magnum…between me and my dreams.

I’ve written, chatted and spoken of so many personal things this evening that I find myself asking a host of new questions. Do I truly have what it takes to love another man ever again?  Do I have the will to lose weight and get in shape without having some perverse surgery? Do I want to trade Broomhilda, my truck, for a Dodge Challenger…the one with the giant Hemi? Because that would be pretty awesome…Would that be a good substitute for sex? I’ve heard it’s pretty damn close. Omg…so many questions!

I think I may get time to go see S next week. Depends on his schedule. Frankly, I could use a night of ridiculously great sex with a man who has never hurt me. And, before you judge, please note that I’ve only been with two men on a totally intimate level in my lifetime, and have never cheated on Exish. Not that I need to make excuses. After giving things more thought, my conscience is clear.

Youngest called this evening. He was sober, so I knew he was broke and why he was calling within the first ten seconds of the call. He said he needed gas money because he has a job interview. Tomorrow. You know…SUNDAY? Yeah, I just snapped to that while I was lying in bed, trying to sleep. And, yes, the money has already been sent. Damn it! That kid knows I’m scatter brained and he gets me every time. Ah, well…I bet he’s not sober now. Thanks Mom!

I should at least go back to bed and try to sleep. I barely slept last night, either, and if I don’t get some sleep soon, I’m gonna have all the grace of a bathsalt zombie.

Peace out, girl scouts!

Don’t Call It A Comeback

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It’s been a lil minute since I posted anything, really. A few weeks, I think. A lot of…life, I guess…has gone on . Good things and bad things. Although, at this point in my life, it is increasingly difficult to distinguish between the two, since so many lessons are learned from those bad things. Lessons that I deeply value. There is also an ever-growing understanding inside of me that my very worst day would be considered a lovely day by someone else in this world. In light of that, what do I really have to complain about?

One bad thing that I have yet to manage to learn from is living with constant, sever, pain. Honestly, I’ve had about all I can take of it. I hate the pain, I hate the meds, I hate the whole thing. A few weeks ago, I ran out of my primary pain medication. I actually looked at it as a good thing, initially. I took the situation as an opportunity to try to another approach to dealing with pain since I hate taking that medication. It dulls me…changes me in ways that have a negative impact on my life. So, I thought I’d try something new and different. Think outside the box and what have you. I thought that I might actually be able to meditate the pain away. That did not work at all, so I moved on to wishing it away. Still, no luck. After that, I simply pretended that  it wasn’t  there every second of the day. Mind over matter. THAT DID NOT WORK. For once, I have encountered something that I cannot simply power through, no matter how badly I’d like to.

Went to visit Mom and my grandfather. While I was there, I visited the doc as a walk-in that Monday. I couldn’t wait for my appointment to get some relief. My doc wasn’t in, so I saw another one. Dr. L. First off, I had to take a drug test for the first time. People who take scheduled meds are now required to take drug tests. If you don’t have the prescribed drug in your system, what are you doing with it? It’s a legit question, considering that my forty dollar bottle of meds has a twelve hundred dollar street value. Even so, it feels demeaning and invasive. It feels like judgement, which it’s not. After that, it was a bit of a wait while they processed my test. The nurse came back to inform me that I had passed. What? Okay…I think.

The nurse explained the importance of drug testing, in the context of all the new DEA regulations. Were the DEA to review my file and see that I had not been drug tested, the clinic could be sanctioned in some way, and my doctor could be severely disciplined. Seriously. The DEA? Those silly bastards can’t keep crack out of our elementary schools, but they’re going to spend their time harassing legit doctors and the patients who need them? While I’m aware of the huge problem with these meds being sold on the street, I still find the situation laughable. I went out of my way to find a doc that was not in any way associated with pill distribution. My doc has no ‘rep’. She’s a good doctor who believes that pain drugs were made for a reason and that there is no shame in prescribing them , nor is there any shame in taking them. (We had that conversation one day after I explained how embarrassed I feel when I get meds filled sometimes). In any case, I was happy to be on the verge of getting a much needed break from this pain.

I went to Galveston to get my prescriptions filled. I drove down the seawall for a Sonic coke while I waited. Tourists crowded the island. I had all but forgotten how crowded that place could get on a holiday weekend. The water was choppy and mud brown, and the wind was blowing like crazy. But it was nice to see all those shiny happy people. I really miss that place, since moving up here to tree country.

The morning flew by and, before I knew it, it was noon and I was almost back to Mom’s house. She had a really nice lunch laid out…fried chicken and a garden salad. She always makes things special when I’m visiting. While I was doing the doc/med thing, she was getting mink eye lashes put on. I noticed how amazing they looked as we talked over our lunch. Grandad just sort of sat there, not really in the room at all. He’s gotten so old. At ninety, he’s earned the right to ignore our girl talk and just enjoy his meal. But, I do worry about him. In the last year, the signs of age have really begun to set in in terms of his mental state. In his mind, he’s still a Marine and can handle anything. In reality, he has a heater by his chair because 73 degrees is too cold for him in the house.

After lunch, still not having time to shower, I piled on some makeup and tried to do my hair. It was so hot in that house. Even Mom was complaining about it, but she and I both agreed that Dad’s comfort came first. So…sweating it was! lol!

I got my trip back home underway, making a stop to meet a friend. I was embarrassed by my appearance. I’m already a large woman, but I normally look well groomed. Not so much that day! Dear GAWD! It was just the most uncomfortable feeling I can think of. I was in the clothes that I’d slept in the night before, since Mom spilled her Monster drink all over my clean clothes. It had taken so long at the doctor that I didn’t have time to stop and get my nails done, so I recycled the ones from last time. I’m telling you…the whole thing was just…OMG! Plus, there is a weird smell in my truck. Exish and I have been trying to find its source for weeks now. I have no idea what is. I’m actually afraid to find out. Yep…it’s THAT bad. When it was all said and done, I was never so happy to get back on the road home…here…the boonies.

And that, dear people, is that.

Adios, Mr. Wonderful!

Since I was so confused and agitated about my moral issues yesterday, I decided to spread it around a little. So, I called Mr. Wonderful and picked a fight with him. Of course, this was after he sent me pictures of his enormous…I shit you not…ENORMOUS penis. Frankly, I’m happy that I started that argument and handled it like a complete child, driving him way way awayyyyy. I don’t think I could bring myself to deal with a johnson the size of a fire hydrant. Holy shit!

It’s funny how quickly people will haul ass the minute you start shit with them. It’s just like the scene in Fight Club, where they were supposed to start fights with random strangers. Nobody wanted to fight them, no matter how hard they tried to pick a fight. It’s human nature. You’re either confrontational, or you’re not.  But you’d think that a verbal spar wouldn’t be so daunting to some people. Frankly, I love it. A good fight is like rain…it clears the air and lets you in on secrets that would never come out under less pressurized circumstances. It’s basically verbal recon.

Anyway…that’s the update. I haven’t slept all night because I’m hurting physically and am sort of in a pissy mood. So I tanked up on DayQuil and I feel pretty damn good. lol! It won’t last, but I’ll enjoy it for now. I got a lot done on the house and that’s always a good thing. For me. Miss Unorganized.

Love Hate Sex Pain/You Gonna Burn For This, Girl

One man’s sin is another man’s pleasure. The Bible says that if your heart does not condemn you, you stand not condemned. As I sit here this morning, I feel as though I stand condemned. Because I just can’t let go of someone who kills me inside, yet still has my heart in his hand.

I’m not formally divorced, nor am I legally separated from my husband of almost thirty years. Almost five years ago, I got my things together and left. I had to. I could not take another moment caught up in the pain machine. During the time I was gone, many things happened, one in particular, that demanded my immediate return. And, so, like the faithful do-gooder that I am, I went home.

Throughout these last years, we’ve had separate bedrooms, as I have held fast to my initial proclamation that we are separated. As many times as I have made that proclamation, Exish has proclaimed the exact opposite. In his world, it’s cut and dry…you are married until the lawyer cashes his check. It is also a given that, if you are married, you are owned. Like a cow or a horse. Chattel.

Here’s the rub: Lately, I’ve been very lonely out here in the woods. There are no distractions. Initially, I thought I would enjoy being alone and that I’d get on with the decorating and whatsuch of the house we moved into almost two months ago. Then, that little thing happened with the man I met on that dating site. The site I went on just to see what a cyber relationship might be like. That led to phone conversations…phone sex…then a very abrupt ending that left me feeling very off kilter. The emotional exchange, however brief, that technology affords us, in the way it exists today, is something that we’re not all prepared for, I suppose. I mean…who didn’t experiment when the net first came to be? I did. It was fun. It was just new and fun to talk about sex/have cyber sex with strangers. It was a novelty that lost its shine for me when I ended up with a stalker who, oddly enough, did not pursue me as a sexual partner until right at the last of it, four years later.

Even though I deleted, or tried to, my account from the dating site, and two others, I am still getting messages and alerts from them. In the last week or so, I’ve been chatting with this one and that one and having a good time. Until I met someone who seriously got to me. By that, I mean that I feel an extreme emotional connection with this person. I checked him out…he’s who he says he is, etc. He’s a very nice man, and we just clicked. He lives in Dallas, which is about ninety miles away. He works and I haven’t agreed to go there to meet him. I told him I’d be gone for the weekend, so he can’t come here. But I want him to. I didn’t expect that I’d actually want that. Or that I could truly see a future with anyone but Exish. I’m not so naive that I believe this particular guy is Mr. Wonderful and there is some forever type thing going on between us. However, I do feel as though we are moving in a direction that will lead us to meet, at the very least. Once that happens, everything changes.

When I woke up this morning, I felt sick inside. I mean…guilt like I haven’t felt in my lifetime. I felt disgusting and dirty and low and I just wanted it to go away. I think that, for the first time, I felt like I was cheating on Exish. I’m a lot of things, but I’m no liar and I’m no cheater. That’s Exish’s department. I’m the one who can resist anything, and will go to any length, to protect what I hold dear.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do about this situation. Exish will be home from the job in a few weeks. I did tell him I was talking to someone, but played it off like I was just messing with them. As if I need a reason to talk to anyone, for any reason. I didn’t want Exish’s permission, but I wanted him to know that I’m trying to put a toe in the water…to give him a head’s up. That’s something he never gave me. The flipside of that is that I now realize that I do have serious love for Exish. We’ve been together so long. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t care what he’s done, I can’t be the one to hurt him the way he’s hurt me. I think that when you know how something feels…something like betrayal…it has to be the last thing you’d want to make anyone else feel.

I think I’m going to turn off my phone and get busy around here. Lay low and let myself settle down. I don’t think it would be cheating if I had ten men in my bed, but…emotionally…if I felt connected to only one, I think it might be.

Yeah. Hmmm…

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I’m numb. I feel as though all I’ve known of this day is what I’ve seen from the window. And that’s my own fault. I wish I knew why it’s so hard for me to go outside, even here. I feel restricted and empty. So alone. Literally and in other ways, as well.

I was thinking to myself earlier about how funny it would be were I to die today. Nobody but the people who read this stupid blog would have a clue as to how I feel right now…have been feeling. Everyone who’s texted or called me today has received pleasant responses and encouragements and what have you. Smiley faces all ’round! Not one would ever know that, if I die today, it would be such a relief that I cannot explain it in any words that I know. They’d never have any realization that, before and after we talked, I was so numb inside that I couldn’t relate to anything alive…to being alive. That is not to say that I’m suicidal. That, I’m not. But I am dead in many ways, already.

A strange thing, that…How it can take decades for the flesh to pass, long after the spirit is crushed and gone. And nobody ever notices, as long as you keep on smiling. That’s all you gotta do…put a fuckin smile on your face. Holy shit! LOL! Wow! That just blows my mind.

I think I notice when others are hurting…when their smile is just a bullshit facade. I take the time to notice. Because that’s what you have to do…take a minute…look them in the eye when they aren’t looking at you. And I’m not afraid to ask somebody what the Hell is wrong. I think that most people just don’t want to know. It’s not that they don’t care, but they already have full plates. No room at the inn, so to speak. But what if you saying something changed one thing for that person? Just one. A tiny thing that could bloom into a bigger thing. Or maybe it would mean nothing at all. But do you really feel good about sleeping on it? That’s all I’m saying.

My case is, of course, different. I’m out here in the country, alone. I don’t know anyone. I’ve just recently been working on the panic I have when going into a store and such. I make myself go into the local Dollar General for longer and longer periods of time. Yesterday, when I went to town to buy cigs, I pulled up at a store and just couldn’t get out. So many of those shirtless country boys, drunk in their muddy trucks…getting gas and what not. Lots of excitement around there. I couldn’t handle it, although shirtless country boys are quite appealing 🙂 Anyway, I went on down the street. I guess that must be the ‘black’ part of town. I found a gas station with some black guys getting gas, music thumping away…and old black man…I was the only white person there. But it felt really familiar, so I got out and grabbed some smokes…had a nice conversation with the very shy girl at the register. It was good. But I’m still disappointed in myself for having to actually shop for a place to shop. It’s such a waste of time. Ah, well…I’ll do better tomorrow. The point is that there is nobody here to know whether I’m one way or another. They just have to take my word for it. And, when it comes to how I’m feeling, I’m not the most honest injun in the room.

trust knows no honor

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trust is a sacred thing

secrets shared from one to another

in moments, most intimate

it does your heart good to revel in the freedom

of trust

you can relax

breathe

emotionally curl up next to someone and feel safe

trust is a funny thing, though

an intangible that can contort

…can twist itself into the most hideous creation of our soul

it can become a commodity

bought, sold and traded

in the wrong hands, a weapon

a thing of destruction that strikes at the core of our being

we are thrown off

head spinning

heart breaking

as we realize, in the twinkling of an eye

that we have trusted in vain

even moreso, to our detriment

Words Flow, Hearts Flutter

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the screen shines brightly

and, there, i find him

a man

he’s dreamy and sweet

kind and good

his heart beats with the love of tradition

heritage

manliness

words on a screen

explain to me this man

whom i do not know

never intend to meet

because a man like him

well, he deserves someone special

someone shiny and happy and trusting

someone who will take his breath away

but when we chat

i feel something

something lost along the way

found again, new

and…and i wish i knew

how to be that shiny happy beautiful thing

that he so richly deserves

but that’s just not me

yet

Word Vomit. But Just A Little.

So, in a hideous fit of lonliness/curiousity, I purchased a one month membership to Alt.com. Thus far, I am absolutely nonplussed. I think that I’m not ready for that much kink. And, since I am not showing any of my naughty bits on profile, traffic is a bit slow on my profile. I do like FetLife. Although, I did get a message from a young man who claimed to be twenty seven, but who I am pretty certain was all of fifteen.

I’m beginning to make changes in life. Many of these changes lead me back to my old self. She was much different than I. She would have crossed a street to avoid me, now. Damn…she was a real bitch. But, I digress…

Exish left for the job this afternoon. I don’t know why I can’t wait for him to leave, but when he does I miss him. I will say that it’s much easier to love him when I’m not in the same room with him. And, in spite of what he says, we are separated. I have a right to a happy life. And, I have nothing to feel bad about…I did my part and I did my best. He did not. That’s not my fault.

random is as random does

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this pic has absolutely nothing to do with this post, but it’s my favorite

This has been such a peaceful day. In spite of not sleeping since Wedesday, I felt pretty good today. Chatted with some cool people online. Now I’m sitting here, listening to Judas Priest, awaiting Exish’s arrival.

I enjoy living so much more when he’s gone. When he leaves, the negativity goes with him. I can turn off the TV, open the windows and listen to the birds…I can breathe. He’ll be leaving Monday to go to a job about five hours away. That’s is SO cool with me!

He bought me a new pistola for the house. She’s a beauty. Taurus .357 magnum. I still sort of like my little ..22. It’s got a history behind it. I love it when things have a story. Inanimate objects, once used by humans to perpetrate whatever nefarious thing they choose. It’s so silly when people say that guns kill people. Well, of course they do. If some fucktwit picks one up and uses it for no good reason. Other than that, they just sit there. No, really…they do.

I’m so random tonight. Someone I met online was supposed to call and I was so nervous I had a panic attack and took an extra med to calm me down. Then a benadryl because my allergies have gone batshit crazy. Then some DayQil because the other stuff was really knocking me out. Even now, I am writing this with one eye closed, because if I don’t, I’ll see double! lol! Holy shit…Then, the guy decided he didn’t want to call me after he saw my real pic. He is the first person I’ve sent my picture to since a man calling himself Memnoch stalked me for four years, but that’s another story.

It’s weird to be rejected when you already told the person, “Look, I’m fat and I’m bossy and am not your type.” Whatever. It does stand as testament to the power of the written word and the power of fantasy/thought on human beings. But, when confronted with reality, things change. It’s much like the way we leave a book on our nightstand and go about our day. It was fun having feelings for a few hours, though. That’s normally not an issue for me. I’m at my lowest point in my entire life. I am numb as fuck. I might get angry, but there isn’t really a full range of emotion for me to draw from. It is what it is.

OMG…Exish will be home in an hour. He’s going to be pissed because the window is up and I’m here alone. Who fucking cares? I am armed to the teeth, and almost out of smokes. By all means, kick my door in. I could give a fuck.

When Exish leaves, it’s diet and exercise time. I just need some time to myself, for myself, so I can get my shit squared away. When Exish is here, he sucks the life out of me and I feel paralyzed and I don’t even try. And I don’t want him to see me try. Does that sound strange? The man looks at me like I’m his worst nightmare. He doesn’t like the sound of my voice, so I have to watch how much I talk to him. And I better damn well watch my tone. It’s too much. He’s never abused me physically or anything, but he’s taken everything that was good and happy and joyful inside of me and pissed on it. He made me hate myself enough to nearly double my body weight. Because I am the type of person that needs something external to cope. I don’t have the internal capacity to just deal with my life. I never have.

When I was 18, I was put into and eating disorder unit for six weeks because I was bullemarexic. While I was there, I got sober for the first time since I was nine. But I did great after I got out. I was an aerobics instructor, I worked out every day…worked the program. The whole nine. Then I got married. Funny how things change with that fucking ring goes on your hand.

I don’t blame anyone but myself for being how I am now. I accept full responsibility. But I do know and understand that certain people bring certain things out in me. Everyone has someone like that in their life. So…when my soul sucker leaves, I’m getting on my path again. Thirty years later.

I Think I May Be A Sex Machine

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^^^ *Authentic pic of a sex machine’s mouth

I know! It sounds crazy, right? But I’ve been in withdrawals for a little minute now, (meaning about two weeks), and am on the back end of it, so I’m feeling pretty good. Since I have a chronic pain issue, I take pain meds. One of those medications really numbs me out in every conceivable way. For certain reasons, I stopped taking that particular medication and am experiencing a bit of an…awakening.

Awakenings are strange things. It’s like when someone comes out of a coma…ya just don’t know what’s gonna pop out. Okay, in all fairness, I’ve personally only been in alcohol and/or drug related comas, but that was just my body telling me that someone needed to throw me into a cold shower once the convulsions stopped. Good times…The thing is, I never knew what I might do once I came back to myself. Same as now. I feel creative and mentally sharp and alive. And like I could sleep with a ship full of sailors. As long as there was no actual sleeping involved. (wink, wink!)

The dilemma: I’m separated from my husband, with whom I still live. He does not agree that we are, in fact, separated, insisting that our marriage is totally salvageable. Believe me, it’s not. Our problems would fuck Dr. Phil’s head up. This has been going on since I left him four years ago.  I came back for financial reasons and because I love my Exish. He’s family. He’s a friend. He’s my oldest…and I do mean OLDEST…son. Anyway, I can’t date. I’m in no condition to date. But I feel very…vavavoom hubba hubba. I am woman, hear me roar! Ya dig?

Maybe the real problem is that, in the last week, I’ve probably slept a total of a dozen hours. This is the part of withdrawal I hate. First, the pain sets in like a mofo, not letting you get a bit of sleep. This part doesn’t really seem very withdrawally, since it happens all the time when you have chronic and severe pain in your life. It’s like a bad boyfriend. Then, even on nights like this one, when you feel fairly good, your body just wants what it can’t have. (I’m talking about pain pills, not sex in this instance. Just to clear that up.). Then there’s the wrestles leg thing, and the headache that just won’t go away even after your stomach lining up and hauled ass to get away from all the ibuprofen you’ve been choking down. I honestly couldn’t say.

But, what if…just what if…I am turning into one of those old ladies whose sex drive kicks way off into high gear in middle age. Okay…LATE middle age. But what if???? That would be so weird. I couldn’t possibly have more sex than I used to. There just aren’t enough hours in the day. Hmmmm…Maybe I should go to the doctor. Have myself plugged up, just to be on the safe side. They do that in America, right? I’ll look into that. Or not…

Okay…yeah…I’m not gonna do that last thing…