I week or so ago, I was drawn out of the shadows by Magnifelyn because there was something in her beauty and honesty that I wanted to connect with. So I posted a comment. I know that this probably does not seem like a very bold move, but after so many years of silence,it felt like a big deal. I became silent because of my work. So many students use LJ and I have great fear that they will find this and I will then see bits of it all over campus (though more likely, they would silently read me as I silently read them--an odd circle). But when Magnifelyn asked me if my journal had gone 'friends only', it reminded me that possibility existed. So, I'll give it another try and see what happens. Funny though, now that it is 'friends only', I really hope that I get a a cyber friend or two who wants to read it. I really don't want any of the folks in my day to day life to see it (I wouldn't have them read a paper journal of mine) and I think, at least for now, that I won't tell BT that it exists. I think he keeps an on-line journal that I never see, so it's fair. But that's not the reason. It's more like, well, I want to be whoever and say whatever and I feel a little boxed by him sometimes. Not that he means too, maybe I even do it. Maybe I am a certain way, so that he will rise up and match me. He has come to be so much more, but he still is a little too externally driven. I feel like I have to keep the lid on the box. But the good thing is that I feel less like that everyday. As he grows and changes, then I get so see myself in relation to his new being. It feels a little unsteady, but it is fun? exciting? yeah. But really, I feel more peaceful now than maybe ever. Part of that is because his change does not seem turbulent, but unfolding. It is calming and safe and maybe more a partenership than ever before. I try to tell him that I see it, but at some point I would like to mark it in a big way. Our 10 year anniversary is 1.5 years away. I was thinking of getting a 'B' tattooed for him. We'll see.
I just went upstairs to go to bed, and was standing in the bathroom looking at the scale. Then it struck me. Control. I feel like my life is out of my control, so I attempt to deal with it through these negative patterns of acting out. But, first of all, why is it so hard to exercise control in a positive way? Why can't I manifest a driving desire to go to the gym or do my nails? Also, why do I have to keep discovering this anew; why is it so hard to make it stick? Answer to all of the above: habit. Habit can be broken. It is JUST habit. How am I going to work on stopping this cycle as it is manifesting right now? 1. Have already committed to email beloved my food list. 2. Will give in and make appointment for facial; I deserve a treat, right? 3. Will do some sort of exercise tomorrow--walk on the beach or gym or whatever, as long as I move.
I think I'm a little depressed. It is coming out in weird food ways, and just the general fact that I am not doing for myself what I need to. But I am so tired and dragged out that I don't want to do anything, even the good stuff. I need to know what is going on. Am I going to take an administrative position or am I going to commit myself to the business? Either is fine; I just need a change from what I am doing now. I also JUST NEED TO KNOW! I need someorder, some security. I need to do good things for myself. Why is that so hard?
Today is our 6 year anniversary. Could I be any more in love with him? Doubt it. I mean, don't get me wrong, he still makes me fucking nuts! But really, who cares. He loves me. More each day, I think. And I love him with every breath. I miss him a bit, though. But then, I think I always miss him a bit. He is such a magical mystery to me that I could spend every minute unwrapping him like a great gift. We've just been so busy and when we're not busy, I think we're exhausted. That makes it hard to plan something special. I have been wanting to grab him and go away, but no place sounds very inviting. Maybe the place doesn't matter; maybe it's just the going. We'll see. Anyway, I love you dollface--stay with me forever. Love, Rj
I actually updated my journal yesterday, but then I hit the wrong button and it was eaten. So, long story short on that one is that I cleaned out my closte (well, part one of my closet). I am getting rid of anything that I don't like, is totally worn out, or doesn't fit. This last one is a biggie! I mean, my closet was stocked with clothes that either fit during the 6 months that I weighed something meaningfully less than I do now, or clothes that never fit but someday (magically) would. Fuck this, I decided. So out they go and I am--at some point when time and money are coexistent--going to buy new stuff that--get this--FITS NOW!
I listen to books on tape in the car. Now I am listening to the audio recordings of this Bill Moyer series for PBS in which different groups of scholars get together to read and then discuss the stories in Genesis. Well, this morning the story being discussed was the actual creation myth. So I am listening to them read it, and it gets to the part where god creates the world in six days, sees that it is good, and on the seventh day he rests. It was at this point that I actually felt a little twinge of anger; it was attached to a thought something along the lines of "Fucking-A! Even God gets a day off now and then!" I know that sounds funny. Sitting here writing it, it strikes even me as a little funny, but it points to something serious, which is that I am fucking tired. This was supposed to be the year that I took it easy, and I am so not taking it easy. Worse, I am coming into it with a deficit, as I have not had a break in so long. There was no time to sit and refuel before I was off again. This has just really hit me hard the last week because I had a cold and it slowed me down. As such, I am a bit behind. Add to being a bit behind, the fact that I had a real blow-out with the beloved one this morning. It was the same old-same old, in which I get sick of micro managing his life for him. I want someone to manage my fucking life for me, wash my clothes, keep my business on track, clean my house. I want someone who--if I ask them to do something--I can rest assured, with no doubt, that the task will be accomplished. And worse, he doesn't seem to care. He takes it for granted (as I guess he should) that I will get done what needs to get done with no prodding or supervision by him. But where is he for me? When does he have my fucking back? Why doesn't he stop what he's doing to make me breakfast? Why doesn't he go to the gym with me, when I fucking ask and say that I need his help? Why, when he (rightly) decides to take a day or even a 1/2 a day off, doesn't he say to meet 'hey, why don't you take it off too, and I'll take you to the movies/beach/gym...'? Why does he not think of me? When is MY DAY OFF, when he handles the responsibilities, and I get to be all fucking self involved and concerned only with what I NEED? WHEN?
Tonight I was watching CNN. They were doing a piece on MacDill Air Force Base which, of course, is about 3 miles from the house. They were talking all about how MAFB is arguably the most important US base, as it house Central Command, all the heads of Special Forces, a lion's share of intelligence, and the fact that all war orders come from here. I guess I knew this in an unprocessed sort of way, but watching it on the news, I suddenly became very unexcited. I mean, if MacDill is that important, then wouldn't it be an inviting target for terrorism or in times of war? Yeah, nice thought.
Happy Rosh Hashanah! I would wish us all a peace-filled new year, but that might be more than we can hope for. Instead, I wish each of us peace of mind, of heart, of soul. May we each be healthy and our lives full of love.
The stress of this week has been causing my mind to dig up thoughts and images so long buried. Yesterday, while I was trying to take a nap, I saw Sara. She was tied to the bed and that fucker, what was his name? James, I think. Was tattooing her with a needle and ash from a burned brown paper bag. It is an image of pain, and powerlessness, and rage. But somewhere in her, there is the thought that it is deserved. Maybe in each of us, there is a small voice that asks seriously if this is also deserved. If we deserve this scar on our psyche. For what? Who knows. The current political reasons, the past when we did not act to save our brothers and sisters, or the times when we inflicted pain upon them, our pride, our narcissism, our refusal to see ourselves of different expressions of a common light. Who knows.
