Left unsaid.

I have had a fucking crazy past month or so. And despite my usual puking all over the place about pretty much everything that happens, I’ve been oddly reluctant to post. There are several reasons for this.

 

First and foremost? I was reluctant to talk about some situations while I was still embroiled in them. I also try, as much as I can, to avoid discussing high-tension situations while they are still playing out. Also there was some shit for which I simply didn’t have words. And strangely enough? I am becoming more desirous of actually having a goddamned private life.

 

Go figure.

 

Anyway, this is what I will catch y’all up on.

 

My home life had deteriorated to a point where I dreaded going back to my own house. My protracted absences complicated an already tough situation, and I lost any sort of control over the maintenance of my house. My (now mercifully previous, and better for everyone it is.) cohabitants were entirely disinclined to keep up with maintenance of household duties, or to renegotiate a split of the bills, refusing to make the adjustment to a 2 way split even though I was gone for weeks and occasionally over a month at a time. I was paying not only for a space in which I wasn’t living but subsidizing outrageous utility bills for appliances I was not using.

 

Not awesome.

 

Then there was the matter of the excruciating issue of getting the money to cover the rent and bills in any sort of timely manner…having to repeatedly ask for rent, etc etc was a thing for me.  I would ask, get busy, forget, ask again, get an apology, wait, ask yet again…yeah. Not being around left zero household cohesion. Without any unity or even real friendship, the business side of the equation decayed even further. The only feasible solution would be to evict them and start all over again with new people and run the risk of having yet another unstable home situation. Besides, I didn’t really want to do that, as I had no ill-will towards them. I just wanted things to be fair and run smoothly. This  troubling situation, paired with the rising tide of my desire to re-settle lead me to the rather complex decision to look for work and life elsewhere.

 

And so it goes.

 

I chose to push up the date for leaving to immediately following the closing of The Lily’s Revenge, which presented a rather Herculean effort on the part of a very dear friend. Despite my very profound misgivings of being able to get all of this together in time for the move-out date, we moved forward with the plan. This quickly devolved into a series of thorny issues, mishaps and financial boondoggles. I thought it would be easy to get plenty of help with the packing and the moving. It sure as fuck was not. I don’t ask people for help often specifically because I am afraid of the disappointment that follows if my pleas for assistance go unanswered and sure enough, it was unbelievably hard to muster up the people power needed. At this point let me give really humble thanks to Tee, who spearheaded this task, and to Q, Keith, Lawrence, Marissa for stepping up to the plate. The process became more and more expensive, and my being out of town only honed the points of anxiety that dug into my brain, keeping me awake at night and pricking my brain non-stop for weeks.

 

Thankfully, despite the problems, only finally resolved (mostly) as of today, my stuff is crammed into a 10′ x 15′ storage room. My cat, Wedge, is in a new home, thanks to my friend Gina. And I am on my way to New York for my first extended period of nomadic living, couch surfing and sprawling uncertainty.

 

Thank Ganesha for my amazing, amazing support network. I won’t be left with nowhere to stay, ever.

 

So. There’s the scoop on the home life shit.

 

On the personal life-tip? Yeah. Rough bumps there, too.

 

For those playing the home game, we last left our spunky brown-skinned heroine all starry eyed over her impending reunion with The Dominant Guy. Of course, this ride ain’t all sunshine and swooning and sweet, sweet submission and such, and into each life a little rain must fall and all of that bullshit. It seemed it was time for me to learn to flex some of my more atrophied emotional muscles, particularly those that involve spiritual heavy lifting around expressing frustration and disappointment, and communicating despite my own fears.

 

I’m not gonna go into a lotta detail here because…I’m just not. I will say I had a certain degree of reasonable expectations as to the amount of time I would have with him at the event where we would be seeing one another for the first time in a few months. For various reasons, this fell apart and left me smarting and in the frame of mind to begin to seriously doubt if our relationship situation was sustainable.  No one was feeling great about the way this fell out.

 

I can’t tell you with sufficient stridency how much I loathe having to assert myself when I am stressing. I CAN do it but it is something that presses me in the maw of anxiety and fear. I am proud of myself that I was able to maintain a modicum of self-control, express myself, and listen as well as I could as we hashed things out. But holy crap, it is tough some days.

 

The mental unraveling, splitting and fragmentation is tough to bear sometimes. As our relationship progresses, and negotiations expand into entirely new territories for me, I occasionally have fizzling fights with myself. The part of me that already fully belongs to him sitting peacefully in placid patience presents a frustrating foil against the part that seems to be constantly gnawing at this calmer persona. The hyena has longer and longer periods of quiet, but when she wakes up to scream at the stupidity I am exhibiting, the tearing teeth and powerful jaws crush and maim me into a paralysis of doubt.

 

Am I really able to see clearly what I need when I find myself feeling more comfortable putting someone else first?

 

How much of my deciding to pursue this path is fear versus healthy desire, curiosity, and a willingness to take a risk in order to open myself to full potential?

 

While I KNOW I MUST negotiate from a place of egalitarian practicality, and I HAVE to put myself first in my mind and heart because no one else in this situation will do so, it is often heart-wrenchingly difficult.

 

Sometimes this shit is almost impossible to me to parse. To my frustration, The Dominant Guy steadfastly declines to give me pat reassurances. He has this crazy idea that I need to be strong enough to decide for myself how much is too much for me, for me to make sure I am taking care of myself, and to have the strength to call it if I am experiencing emotional or spiritual damage. The bastard.

 

This is the wickedest of Wicked Problems. By the time I know what it is that HE wants, I want that too.

 

See my problem?

 

I have to keep digging in my heels, toes and fingernails to keep from that already reflexive obedience because, for me? Slavery and ownership is about focus on myself as an extension of the person I serve. SO the idea of saying “No, me first!!” is mountain-goating with my core deep root level need to be obedient, pleasing, and owned.

 

The fuck.

 

I dunno how this is gonna go. Coming up soon I will be spending time with him and his wife and there will be new emotional trails to blaze. I waver between sickening sickening nervousness and cold resolve, hitting everything in-between when it comes to trying to suss out how to even begin to approach this negotiation. It will be what it will be, and I guess whatever happens? I will learn a whole lot about my resolve and my capacity to keep myself safe even as I protect my interests against…well. Against my desires. Against my need to be owned, to serve.

 

Against myself.

 

Even when this situation threatens to encapsulate me in the creeping amber of trepidation, I remember that I am involved with ethical people. I remember that, no matter what happens, and however much it might hurt, there is something to be gleaned, to be gained, something that illuminates me from within that will make the path clear when it needs to be so. For all of the anger and struggle, frustration and dismay, there is an openness, a clarity, a respect and affection that baffles these darker moments and pushes back the choking tide of doubt.

 

No, I don’t really know what the fuck I am doing. Thanks for asking!  But that is OK. Because when I remain in the moment, and remember the peace and stillness, the warmth and simplicity of purpose I feel when I can be truly in the moment, be with myself, and be with him, the rest of the bullshit evaporates, a perforated soap-bubble, barely remembered.

 

I am having to learn to breathe a different atmosphere. Sometimes my system rebels against it. It can feel scary but…I can see other people living, breathing, thriving in it.

 

Perhaps I can, too.