Here's to New Days

Several weeks ago, when blogging about Self-Sabotage, I asked for more New Days and boy howdy…I certainly got what I asked for! I'm considering the notion that maybe events have unfolded for the sole purpose of working on myself. The past five weeks have been…bizarre. I understand that it's a burden being my Witness, but I hope that in the long run, it will allow for a truly honest way to "be" together one day.

Being back in Manchaca + spending time with someone who's never left (who's probably just as "cray-cray") = _____________ ? I honestly tried to come with something clever about Texas weather…too early in the morning. I know I've been unsettling to watch; I'm unaware of anything beyond "wind damage" at this point. I didn't bother to include Love in the the equation…always "times 'x'"…you just never know what Relationship Algebra will do to an equation.

Some Notes to Readers:

I feel sorry when I break the "4th wall", reach out through my blog and grab someone who's wronged me; it can sound so potentially violent. It isn't fair to you…unless of course it's about you. Blogs are tricky that way. But I'm all about words. The worst thing I've done in later adulthood was dent a stainless steel sink w a coffee mug.

In July, this blog will be NINE YEARS OLD. C'mon! How many of us have been that consistent? Me neither….there's a big gap in there somewhere and I'm grateful to have jumped over it. I have no material legacy for my children; I'm hopeful they'll read it one day when I'm gone. Haha…call it, "How I Met Your Maker".

I've had feedback that working through My Shit AND blogging about it is self-indulgent. I've been told to "get over it", "move on" yada yada… and I laugh. This is what "getting over it" LOOKS LIKE! It's a lot of fucking hard work and, being the brat that I am, I'm thinking I should be rewarded sometimes. And there's never ever a complete "getting over" of anything in Life. 'Mirrors most of the bodywork I do: find what's impeded and painful, palpate, and gently release the scar tissue and adhesions contributing to the local dysfunction. Breathe.

So breathe, Good People. It's all Process.

Agape

Gerald learned a new word tonight. I told him that most of what I feel for him is "agape" and he didn't know what it meant. I'm reasonably certain he'll look it up. Good. I believe tonight will make the…4th?…time he's tried to end things. Negotiations went well in my opinion. I make a Good Case. And now we're finally (at 5 weeks! 6?) at the point that I would be most comfortable, too: I've secured a weekly Date Night and Rights to Escort to events/random fun stuff.

And thus ends any further blogging in regard to Dear Gerald unless…something really different happens. 'Kinda thinking it won't with This One. **palms up**

Best…Cry…Ever...

Understand that, while I'm grateful for a sense of "progress"in my own mental health, some of my emotional breakthroughs might just be hormones. Either way, I'm having a great time in the 'Hut these days.

Yesterday afternoon I was putting in some quality Facebook time (haha) and I found myself crying those same big fat tears that had dropped on Gerald's arm a couple of weeks ago…? The content of the conversation? Birthday wishes and elementary school memories. It was one friend's 50th and we were bantering about photos from childhood birthday parties. My first thought: would I recognize myself in any photos? I often don't. And then it hit me hard that I really have lost so many childhood memories…I have these random "index cards" of reconstructed events. I found a new "edge" to an Old Wound. I guess for real healing, a person's gotta get in there and clear it out sometimes.

When I lifted my palms to the Great Whatever during my cry, I realized that what I really want for my 50th birthday is as many photos and stories as my old elementary school friends could give me. I just don't have the Bravery to ask…which made me cry more. Why? Because I would end up confessing to just how ill I really had been all along; that my tendency to disassociate mySelf had started very very young. And, once again, I come back to the Old Wound.

All roads lead to you, Mr. Molester…still. I do hope you read my blog. I hope you see how far I get from even thinking of you and then, BAM, your Sorry-Ass comes into play. Will you ever understand/acknowledge just how fucked up all of that was? Not only to take my virginity at 13 but to come back at 15, 18 to take what was left? That you set the dominoes falling for the decades to come?
Of course you won't, don't, and probably never will. Enjoy your corner of Hell.

**whew** There's always "work" in the 'Hut. I'm always grateful for tears and I wish Gerald could understand why I don't make myself stop crying once I've started. Chemically, it's the Best Thing for What Hurts. I'm guessing he's seen so many because his presence evokes some of what's been shed here yesterday…

Forward, ho.

and getting Answers?

It's been about 36 hours since my last post. It appears, at least for now, that the Tug-o-War over ____ is over? Not quite sure what the Struggle was all about but we're all sunshine and rainbows in Manchaca. For today, Gerald and I appear to be happy at the same time. **palms up in prayer** I'd really like to string together a whole bunch of days like this.

Talking to God...

I really hadn't expected to have time to write today. I HAD a long list of avoidable tasks and, considering my…my…"current issues", I was expecting an all-day battle with myself to get things done.

I did suggest to Gerald that he read my blog. I believe he's the first person I've ever called by their first name here so if it changes, it's because he's asked me to omit it. (He'd be the first to have an editing request honored, too.)  I hope he understands the chronologic layout; I'd like him to start with March 22 to be precise. Maybe written word will be helpful? Maybe not? Lord knows I ain't gettin' myself understood verbally. Or at least it feels that way. I suspect he'd just say it's because I'm not "getting my way" so to speak.

I'm really stumped as to why I chose this title today and why I'm not changing it. Yes, I have moments of interaction daily with my perceived Great Whatever but I don't have any WORDS for that today! How absolutely funny. I'm digging the image though.

The End of "Spare Time"

**sigh** I was warned that I'd be waiting through periods of "radio silence" with Gerald…objectively, I totally support the concept. I want the same for myself. I demand the same! But I think because I don't make quite the Proclamations that Gerald makes, most folks don't notice. The dude has so many rules and it's pissing me off sometimes because I'm honestly confused. It's been just under a month and I'm supposed to be some kind of "Gerald Expert"? I don't think so…

In my own head, I'm getting antsy because I suspect he has some basic misconceptions about me and I've been unable to clarify. Can't very well talk things over by myself, now can I? I can hardly share MY creative endeavors if the dude won't use a computer or put me in a space to present my latest choreographic efforts, now can I? I HATE the idea that he's thinking I'm just sitting in my 'Hut with nothing to do.

The last month has probably been the most prolific in YEARS and I'm itching to share the JOY of that. The Vision I'm cultivating isn't about being Gerald's Woman; it's about being Denise and Gerald making Beautiful Things.

This New Life...

Hardly "new" but evolving into, what feels like, a New Era. Will this finally be the Age of The Kind of Love I've Always Wanted?

There's something decidedly edgy about the way Gerald decided it's ok to keep rolling with "us" after trying to end it. Of course we were both surprised by my quiet weeping at the time…giant drops fell on his arm while he consoled me. He cried a little too…and then we had hours of sex. A few days later, we had a spat of sorts, made up and now we're in this "flow"(?) We certainly do very well socially as a Couple.

"The Kind of Love I've Always Wanted?"=
Lots of laughter, alone and with friends
Freedom to fall asleep wherever is most comfortable be it couch, bed, Hut…doesn't have anything to do with "sleeping around" lol
Genuine interest in each others' Creative Endeavors
Clear understanding (without neediness on either part) of Why We Need Time Alone.
It'd be fucking fantastic if my Dream Partner also thought I was "hot". I'm still enjoying "fireworks" but I can't really tell with Gerald…still early in this Era.
And ultimately, I'd like to be married (and this makes me grin) but not necessarily co-habitate. I'd like either one of us to say, "Hey. I gotta work on ____ so I'm going to stay in the 'Hut. Text if you want breakfast."

And most important than anything else, I want to value/be valued for the Beauty in our Hearts.

Here's to This New Life!

Love/Sick or Just Another "Wonder Years" Day?

After a blissful evening of movie watching at Gerald's, a nice long sleep alone in his big bed, and a very strange early morning discussion that included me professing my love, I'm toast. I honestly can't figure out if I'm ill or if the return of menses during this full moon has me hormonally zonked. The love part's definitely a factor. I just hope I haven't fucked it all up. I don't think I did because I basically asked that we kind of put worrying about it to the side…just let that be there and continue to enjoy our time together. I just had to end any suspense/doubt. I got it bad but it's ok.

Rare

I can't remember copying actual layers from one image to another. Lazy? Efficient? I'll go with the later…

I had a rough night sleeping. 'Could be for any number of reasons but I'm suspecting that, after 2 days of drinking distilled water, my body decided to turn my DQ Blizzard from yesterday into a Mucous Mess. I spent the night coughing and running to pee…probably burned off the calories at least.

As for my Heart…oh my. My Goofy Gus brought me homemade (and reasonably healthy) pie for breakfast in the 'Hut. Remind me again why I'm not supposed to be in love with you? No. Don't. I'll just learn not to talk about it…said NO WOMAN EVER! haha…even I thought that was funny.

So on we roll with this…whatever he wants to call it. I do have to wonder if there isn't some Mystery Deal Breaker that he keeps around "just in case" some woman falls for him. Maybe he's already used his most reliable one and is considering a new one? Oh well. It is what it is. At least I've played pretty much ALL of my cards…not too much Mystery here…said NO MAN EVER! haha I did it twice.

Today I'm truly happy.

Omission

I was looking through past images and realized I never posted this one. 'Not quite sure what I was going for; I only edited it a little yesterday. I must have assumed I'd remember to finish it. It's from early March…pffft. No wonder cuz March sucked until the very end.

'Still in the vortex of my "Whatever We're Calling It Today" relationship and that's actually good. At least I believe we're moved past the worst, at least in terms of my behavior…

Oh yes. I almost forgot. I got a pocket-dialed voicemail immediately following an exchange of text. It was the morning after Gerald broke up with me, Asshole consoled me, and Gus kept me awake another couple of hours…making sure I was ok, I'm sure. I'm wondering if what I heard on my phone was the Three of Him fighting it out. It wasn't that dramatic…walking around, putting something in the microwave, occasional yelling…at the Tv? Not too sure. What's interesting is that I don't feel like it was an intrusion or that I should feel guilty. I'm just the recipient.

And there have been a few other odd, happenstance, serendipitous events happening around us. So…for now…I'm still rolling with it. I'd ask for wishes of "Good Luck" but I suspect Patience, Love, and Skill will come into play more often than not.

The Song of Cuddlin' Gus and Grippy

Oh my. My previous post reminds me that one primary function of this blog is to give me reasons to laugh at myself. Yup. Funny funny.  I'm a Real Hoot alright. Which is good.

To be blunt: I'm fucking in love in a very basic, chemical way. The jiggly knees and numby-tingly arms…best drug ever, hands down. I just wish I were in love with…a puppy? a bird? a goldfish? 'Cuz this man is so very very challenging and I am most certainly very very challenging in return. And for a man who wants things to slow down, he sure knows how to keep a camp fire burning…it's just…beyond my scope. I suspect there's a special support group of women he's dated; I know a canned speech when I hear it. Last night I had to call "bullshit" on some of this…and then I fucking texted him this morning. Oi! At least it was to complain about texting being the primary communication tool. Too easy for me to abuse. I'm thinking it might be in my best interest to compose handwritten letters that take a day or two before they're read. And a set Date Night each week. I could work with that.

I decided when I started the image above that he's the symbol on the left, me on the right. We've nicknamed our Alter Egos: Cuddlin' Gus & Grippy, Asshole and Cheesesteak, Gerald and Denise. Interesting for a man who doesn't want a relationship. Fucking Asshole. Fucking Cheesesteak.

As Dreams Take Flight...

There's a lot going on right now that I can't write about without betraying a family trust but I CAN say, "All is well for now."

As for me, I'm pretty much a hot mess of silliness and puppy-love at…49. Oh my. Infatuation is my single most favorite physical state. I'm so very lucky GP's so tolerant (but I've heard a "tone" a couple of times) of my inability to act even remotely my age. He's got me all wound up and goofy and day-dreaming…

How absolutely delightful. There IS such a thing as Timing.