Sense and Nothingness

Sometimes, I lie around and do nothing.  Nothing worthwhile at least.  And as I am busily engaged in nothingness there's a sensible part of me saying, "Get up, what's wrong with you?"  But I have this hollow feeling that is satisfied by the nothing.  By the endless novel.  The mindless television.  The processed sugar kibble I chew like cud.  As if all the garbage I take in will fill me and fulfill me.

A lot of times this happens at night.  Even when I want to sleep.  Even when Jute comes to me, and says he wants to sleep.  He wants me to come sleep with him.  He wants me in our bed.  And the sensible parts of me says, "Yes, go to bed with him."  "Hell," it says, "make love to him!"  Or fuck him.  Or something like that.  I really do want to go with him, and seduce him with a quick, happy tumble before we cuddle and fall asleep.

Well, I didn't go tonight.  The hollow place was too alluring and I thought, maybe if I just finish this show I'll be okay.  When it was done I wrestled with myself to stop.  I told myself I was going to go upstairs and snuggle him awake for a quick bit of nookie.

However when I got to my bed, I realized he wasn't in it.  He'd asked me to go to bed, but I told him I was watching a show.  After that he joined Lane in her bed.  He'd done that instead of waiting for me, in my empty one.  When I realized I would be alone tonight, it stung.

The sensible part of myself is pretty harsh now.  It's telling me I'm the one to blame.

Returning?

So I've been gone for a long time, I just came back because I wanted to delete everything.  I knew I hadn't been here in so long, and I wanted to remove my abandoned words.

In returning, reading what I had written, I suddenly became attached to them again.  Words I wove in honesty.  I decided I'd leave them for now.  I don't know if I will continue to add to them after this.  But there is catharsis in writing for me, even if I'm fickle about it.

It seems reasonable, should anyone read my musings, they might wonder what has occurred in my life over the last year.  I have been peaceful.  My work satisfies me.  I've been healthy enough, although not as much as I would like to have been.  My primary partner, Jute, and I are well.  Lane, the new girl I once wrote about is still a part of our life.  She is his partner, my friend, our roommate.  Raven, my once long distance 'FWB' is still long distance, and still a friend although we've lost touch with each other's lives.  Recently he and his girlfriend Kit reached out to me during a difficult time and I comforted them.  Perhaps we will reawaken our friendships.

The Fickle Calendar

It's funny how my schedule has a tendency to go from dead boring to a veritable social freeway.  I have a date tonight.  An interesting fellow has asked me out for coffee and I accepted on a whim... historically I at least chat for a few minutes before I'll agree to such a thing.  This guy seemed worth a shot though:  his OKC profile was interesting, and the site's algorithm did gave us a pretty high match.  I think there's something to be said for that mathimatical matching mumbo jumbo, every person I've met with a <90 match percent has become someone I want to spend significant time with.

Anyway, I digress... I was talking about my upcoming schedule.  In addition to tonight's date, I have two more dates this week.  Tomorrow is a 'co-date' with Jute and Lane and Friday Jute and I are going to spend some special time together.  Beyond dates, I have a Full Moon event to attend, plus classes, meetings and a vet visit for my four legged friends too.

Even though it keeps me super busy sometimes, I really enjoy having an active dating life.  I recommend it to everyone, even my monogamous friends.  (After all you CAN date your partner no longer how long you've been together.)  Going out and having fun keeps life from getting stale.  Who wants to stay home and watch TV when you could go out and experience the world instead?

Dreaming of a Poly Library

I had the strangest dream this morning:

I was living in a library, and then Kit came to live with me.  Ostentatiously she and I were 'equals' in living together.  I was happy to have her join me.

Then Kit decided to rearrange the shelves and tables.  She turned them so that they were more open and accessible, yet the aisles were narrower.  I missed the wide cozy aisles, and how the corners had felt like little nooks.  I showed my sister what she had done and quietly complained.  Then Carter waved me over (because apparently he worked in my library).

"If you make me the postmaster I can make her put the shelves back," he said.  I was grateful for his suggestion, even though it wouldn't work.

"I can't do that," I sighed.

"Why not?" he queried me.  I was ashamed to admit the reason to him.

"Because that would undermine her." 

"Well you know what your other option is," he scolded.  "You could talk to her."

So what does a dream like that really mean anyway??

The Ghost of Raisin

My kitty Scooby is turning into an old man.  It's a change that's been creeping up on me for a while now, but this evening I noticed it again.  He hopped up onto the bed next to me, and for a fraction of a moment I mistook him for another, my long departed friend Raisin.

I loved Raisin dearly.  He was born in my childhood basement, and my sister and I met him when he was only hours old.  He loved us unconditionally, rowdy children though we were.  He was technically my sister's pet but, when he was thirteen and she was still living at home, she realized that I could give him better care than he had with her.  He had a severe upper respiratory illness at the time and she couldn't afford a vet visit (nor would my parents foot the bill for one.)  So she asked me to care for him on her behalf.  I was to become his hospice nurse.  He had been frail since kittenhood and we expected him to falter soon.

Raisin instead lived another three years.  He quickly claimed my blue velour armchair and was often found curled in a warm little ball there, sleeping soundly.  Extremely soundly in fact, because we discovered that over the years he had become stone deaf.  His surprise when I woke him for dinnertime was classically adorable until the end.  It was the most exciting part of his day, and he ate with gusto every time.

When his end did come, it was tragic.  He had been having small seizures, but they were thought to be manageable.  He recovered each time within a few minutes.  Then one evening after seizing he didn't feel like having dinner.  Mildly worried I decided to let him sleep upstairs with me, so that I would hear should he have a problem in the night.  Early in the morning I woke to find him weak and pale.  He had urinated on himself.  I knew he wasn't well off and I called my sister to meet me at the vet's office.  After he had been examined our fears were confirmed.  His heart had failed and he was slowly dying.  We gave him the last kindness we could, and let the doctor take his pain away.

It's amazing what an imprint Raisin left on my heart.  It's been four years since I've held him, but I still miss his gentle cuddles and unassuming ways.  And every once in a while, like tonight, I expect to find him with me again.  It's like his little ghost is still asleep in my blue chair, and I've just been waiting for him to wake up.

Because of You

I am an abuse survivor.  I was beaten and degraded by my mother.  Every bit of who I am has been touched by this. 

Getting into grad school was probably more about proving I was 'good enough' than a genuine desire to spend a third of my lifetime as a student.  Without that pain to drive me I would have settled into a much simpler career path.

Being a good mom was my number one goal in high school.  I was determined to not repeat my mother's mistakes.  I'm still driven by this, but the irony is that I'm not always sure what being a good mom is.  I'm not like my own mother, but I'm not perfect 'either.'  I'm often consumed with guilt that I'm not 'doing it right' no matter what I'm doing.

Having my safety on the line required me to become uncannily sensitive in reading other's moods and feelings.  Conversely, it's made it much more difficult to express my own .  I have to be conscious of trusting people.  It's exhausting.  It's infuriating.  It makes relationships exponentially more tricky.

I have emotional triggers that can be set off anytime, anywhere.  For example, I cry every time I hear Kelly Clarkson's song, 'Because of You.'

 

One time I tried to break myself of this habit.  I played the song on repeat for a couple hours until I'd stopped crying.  I was proud that it no longer affected me.

Today I heard it on the radio.  Turns out that it still makes me cry.

Happy New Year

Well it's official.  Welcome to 2012.

I had an uneventful evening - stayed home and read a book.  A few minutes to midnight Jute asked if we should have a traditional midnight kiss.  I nonchalantly agreed, and we came together for a short make out session.  After the clocks clicked over we broke away again.  He returned to playing Zelda (he received an NES system for the holidays) and I returned to my computer.  I texted a *snuggle kiss* to Raven and was a little sad that I couldn't kiss him in person.

New Years Day.  (sigh)  Exactly one year ago today, Jute and I visited Star and Carter for dinner.  We hardly knew each other at the time.  Star and I had only been flirting for a couple months, and had only kissed once.  We had met each other's husbands, but not socialized with them at all.  The guys were just barely acquaintances.  The plan for the evening was chatting and board games, but somehow instead we ended up having a crazy, beautiful, BDSM orgy.

I'd have to say Star was the one who initiated it.  After a few drinks she suggested we play a new card game, and this time she suggested a 'strip' version.  We exchanged glances, tittered, and then all agreed that could be fun.  Shortly thereafter we were suitably nude enough that Star further suggested that Carter show off his rope skills, using me as a bunny.  I was nervous, but agreed.  As he first began to tie me I experienced a bit of faintness.  When I admitted this sensation, he calmly lowered me into a kitchen chair, loosened the bonds and checked my pulses.  His confidence and calm inspired an immediate wave of relief in me.  I was safe with him.  That moment was when my feelings for him began to turn.

Star and Jute meanwhile had started out watching the bondage session, but somewhere along the line she had shared with him that she was very curious as to what it felt like to suck an un-cut cock.  She asked permission to experience his, and he was happy to oblige.

By the time Carter was ready to tie me to the table, Jute and Star were highly aroused.  The three of them kissed, stroked and licked me all over, and Carter's probing fingers caused me to squirt for the first time in my life.  Jute was facinated and wanted to learn how to do the same.  Carter demonstrated on me for a bit, before I was untied and it was Star's turn to gush all over the hardwood.

Later we took the party to their kingsize bed, and spent a few hours alternately fucking and then making love.  The energy between us was indescribable.  We awoke the next morning in a happy tangle of limbs.  We were amazed at having discovered this intimate connection with each other.  We felt as if we had all aligned just perfectly.

We were ready for a perfect new year.  And what a year it was...  what a year.

Art

I've been drawing tonight.  Something that I enjoy about sharing art is that the interpretation is derived just as much from the audience as from what I put into the piece to begin with.  With writing it's different.  It seems as if what I have to say is much more plain.

Accidentally I discovered that I can create an interesting effect by taking photos of my sketches:

I don't really have much to say otherwise.  I just wanted to share.

Sexual Wounds?

Reading on fetlife a few minutes ago I came across this thread which shares an article by Dr. Deborah Taj Anapol.  I haven't read much of what Dr. Anapol has written, so I'll reserve my judgement on her expertise. I do find this particular article very interesting in regards to my own experiences with polyamory and group sex.

As I shared the other day in my post about Jute's new partner, I'm not all that comfortable with group sex.  I don't really enjoy it because I spend much of the time 'in my head,' worried about what each person's physical and emotional state is at the moment.  In the article Dr. Anapol states, "It's not possible to enjoy having multiple partners if you're sexually insecure."  Is that my problem then?  Am I sexually insecure?  I'd like to believe I'm perfectly sexually healthy, but something about the way I'll sometimes shed tears after orgasm hints to me that I'm not.

Dr. Anapol continues with, "Many people give up on polyamory, or at least retreat into the safety of intellectualizing or fantasizing about its glories, once they realize the amount of sometimes painful healing and deconditioning which may be involved."  I did that.  When our quad collapsed for the final time I retreated, not just from polyamory, but from relationships in general.  Including my marriage.  I spent a few weeks 'single' in my heart.  I was afraid of more pain, but also I needed some time for personal growth.  During that time I opened the door to ending the black depression which had consumed me for months.  Taking care of myself became a priority and becoming healthy seemed possible again.

The Black Depression (I'm kind of liking the phrase all of a sudden - it's a catchy way to describe that time in my life), was the catalyst for a lot of my growth this year.  Now that I'm on the other side I feel like I am so much better able to recognize flaws in my emotional health.  I can also accept that I am flawed, without feeling nearly as guilty about it.  I know I'm healing, and I know it will take time.  I also know I will always have scars.  Scars I'll choose to wear with acceptance and wisdom.

I think I've always had some 'sexual wounds,' as Dr. Anapol would call them.  Right now I think I have a mixture of ancient ones, and those which were ripped open only in the last year.

Prayer and Magick

I invited Jute to attend the Full Moon next weekend with the local Wiccan group.  We've participated a couple times in events with them, but honestly I've been somewhat hesitant to revisit them. It was Star who introduced me, both there, and to Paganism in general.  When Star and I first met she followed a different style of Paganism, but she had old connections to the Wiccan group.  At one point in our relationship she was considering converting back to Wicca.  I don't know if she's still feeling that way or not.  My guess is not.  Her mercurial whims frustrated me to no end.

Regardless, I've wanted to return and learn more about their teachings, but I've been afraid to step onto their grounds on my own, without her presence as an introduction.  I've also been afraid that, should I arrive there, I might find her as a participant.  Every time I see her, my heart wrings up.  We are gracious with each other, but internally I am shrinking away, guarding my soul from being burned again.

I've tried reading Pagan books and websites on my own.  I'd love to figure out what draws me toward the belief.  I spent a good number of years a staunch atheist, comfortably unconcerned with matters of the spirit.  Star and Carter's beliefs were interesting to me, but only academically.  That changed last spring, when I was taken by a dark depression.  One night, crying in the shower, I began to pray.  I prayed to 'I-don't-know-who-or-what-you-are-just-please-help-me,'  and after that prayer I began to question my belief in nothingness.  I began to feel as if there was more to be understood.

It seem to me, the same as the Christianity I was raised with, that Pagan religion is riddled with inanities.  Some folks will propose that X is the way to do things, and if they aren't in the exact place or at the exact time they are meaningless.  That plain seems wrong to me, on a primal level.  Nothing spiritual really makes sense to me yet though either.  What does speak to me, is the power I feel radiating from the sacred fires.  The windsong I hear in my minds ear.  The caress of water droplets running down my body in the rain.  The warm core of the earth steadying me when I reach for it.

I'm going to return to the Wiccan group, because they might have some answers for me.  I can't forget the anticipatory buzz I felt the first moment I stepped onto their grounds.  It called to me.  The earth seemed to be saying, "There is magick here."

Cuffed

I wore my cuffs to sleep last night.  I was held by baby pink faux leather lined with fuzzy faux fur.  The short shiny stainless chain restricted me in a peaceful way.  I haven't worn my cuffs to bed for months.  The last time I did Jute caught me and teased me about it.  He thought Carter had told me to do it, but Carter hadn't.  At least Carter didn't think it was a silly action though.  He figured it meant I was feeling insecure, that I wanted comfort.  Carter understood that bondage, cuffs, rope, can mean more than physical sensation.  There's a powerful emotional release when I am bound.  Carter wove ropes around me and I saw it as an expression of art and love.

As far as I can tell Jute has never felt the magickal aura of bondage.  It is functional to him.  Mechanical restriction which can be used to facilitate physical pleasure.  Months ago, during a week where Star and I had been fighting and I couldn't be with Carter because of that, Jute thought it would be a good idea to arrange a date for me with a rope top.  I was unsure, when he proposed it, but decided it might be fun.  He found a nice enough man to do it, and I even enjoyed myself through the process.  The problem arose the next morning.  I dropped *hard.*  I sobbed.  I felt dirty.  I felt like I'd sullied the purity of my love for rope.  I'd cheapened it.

Star and Carter were furious.  They both knew how powerfully I react to being bound, and were incredulous that this idea - a fling to get my mind off them - had ever been given merit.  Even though she had been angry with me the other day, Star comforted me.  She spoke soothingly to me as I sobbed to her over the phone.  That afternoon she brought me chocolates and held me.

Even now, recalling that, I'm starting to cry.  I miss her friendship, her touch.  We were volatile together, almost because we understood too much.  We fought so many of the same internal demons - histories of abuse, abandonment and depression.  We have mirrored histories, and they link us together.  As distant as I've become from her I cannot 'un-love' her.  My heart is forever roughly bound and cuffed to hers.

New Girl

Jute had a new partner come over for dinner tonight.  He met Lane a couple weeks ago through craigslist.

Jute is much different than I in how he views sex with strangers.  He has no qualms about having a purely carnal encounter.  In fact, the idea turns him on.  From a risk management standpoint I'm not comfortable with him having one night stands, so our negotiated boundary has been that he only meets people for sex if they have the potential to become a repeat partner.  Before he met Lane he was looking for a new 'fuck buddy' because the woman he was been seeing for that had moved out of state.  I never met that woman because there was never an emotional connection; thus I was nonplussed about her existence, and he didn't feel the desire to introduce her to the rest of his life, and she wasn't interested in being part of it either.

Lane was a different experience for him.  He hadn't expected anything more than the physical connection, but upon meeting her he was happily surprised that she was someone he was genuinely interested in befriending and dating.  I've been really happy for him.  Not only am I excited for him to have this beautiful potential relationship developing, but I'm also happy because it seemed like his interest in Lane was another step in getting past the hurt he's harbored since losing Star.

I enjoyed meeting Lane.  She's not a person I would have noticed on my own, but I felt pretty comfortable hanging out with her and could see us getting to be friends eventually.  I'm sure Jute would love for us to become more - poor guy - he really misses having group sex.  However I'm hesitant to head in that direction.  Firstly because I'm not into sex with people I've just met, but also I'm not a big fan of group sex.  I've found that having sex with two or more partners is too complicated emotionally for me.  I feel inadequate when it comes to balancing the attention given to each person, and spend so much of the time focused on how everyone else is feeling in a given moment that I don't relax and enjoy the process.

I'm not knocking the idea of group sex in general.  It just hasn't worked as well for me.  I'd be interested in trying again someday.  But someday in the future.  I'm glad it wasn't tonight.

New Relationship Energy

NRE.  New Relationship Energy.  For the uninitiated, it's what many poly folks call the 'walking on clouds' feeling you get when you've just started seeing someone new and you think about them every five minutes.  It's a great feeling, makes everything in the world seem a little bit brighter.

Even though I've known him for close to a year now, I feel like over the holidays we've opened some new doors in our relationship.  I'm finding myself feeling that special obsession.  Memories of his kisses, and imaginings about more of them keep popping up and then I'll give a little involuntary sigh of pleasure.  Mmm.  Of course, today we shared a racy 'texting's-too-difficult-better-use-the-phone' call this afternoon, which left us both in a state of post orgasmic bliss.  So that just gives me so much more to sigh about.

NRE is wonderful, but I need to be considerate of a few other people in the equation, namely Jute and Kit.  Jute is easier for me, afterall he's my husband.  I have a better understanding of his worldview and what's going to trigger his insecurities than Kit.  I also have pretty much constant access to him to monitor his well being.  Kit on the other hand is slightly an enigma.  As far as I can tell she and I get along wonderfully, she's easy to converse with and I consider her a friend.  However I just plain don't know her very deeply and therefore can't feel as secure about her perspective as I would like to feel.  I wonder if she and Raven's relationship is really as secure as it seems... perhaps only because that's a big part of what burned me with Star and Carter.

I also wonder how she feels about me. Is she only interested in friendship or is there maybe more than that.  Personally it's harder for me to tell if a woman is interested in me than a man is.  Maybe that's just caused by my lack of experience with the ladies, or maybe it has to do with my perception of what female friendship looks like versus male friendship.  It seems like there's more overlap between what is flirting and what's 'just-friends' when I'm interacting with a woman.  I'm not sure how I feel about developing a physical or romantic connection with Kit either.  That has more to do with my feelings about dating couples in general than with Kit specifically though.  She is a very attractive woman with a great personality.  If only I wasn't already becoming involved with her boyfriend.

Jute tends to look at things differently than me.  He thinks a "V" relationship is inherently less stable than a equilateral triad.  I don't know what to think about that though.  I think I'll leave that as food for thought for another day.

Kisses

This won't start out making much sense, because I don't want to start from the beginning.    I promise: the back story will come out in time.  For now I just don't want to focus on that.  I want to talk about kisses.

Raven kissed me last night. Our first kisses.  I wondered if he was going to, after all the dare was at least four months ago.  It turned out he was just as nervous-eager as I was to finally press close and touch soft sweet lips.  It was so comfortable and happy, like a homecoming.  He remembered the things I'd told him too, how I melt when my hair is petted and how my knees get weak when my neck is nibbled.  He turned me around and held me as we observed the stars, his hands in my pockets, his chin on the top of my head.  So sweet, so brief, I'm already longing for more.

It's frustrating and wonderful that he lives in my hometown.  On the one hand it's so long between visits.  On the other hand he's at least somewhere I visit regularly.  I wish I'd found him when I lived there, but maybe I didn't because I just wasn't ready for him.  He's been part of the process.  He was the friend I could talk to about all the crazy Star and Carter brought into my life and my marriage.  The one who kept reminding me to care for myself.  Every time I thought the crazy drama or my internal struggles would push him away he stayed steadfast. What a wonderful man and friend he is.  It's so important for me to protect the friendship I have in him because I having him in my life has made it richer.