Yesterday when I was snot-crying into my pillow my mind was filled with very real thoughts about our relationship being over. I didn't see any way forward at that moment, and even though part of me knew I was being very much overly dramatic another part was very very sincere in the idea of "this is it - I can't go forward from here".
When we were arguing, or rather trying to solve things instead of arguing, I hugged Mistress, rested my head against her chest and asked "Can I trust you?". Meaning "I want to trust you, no matter what, I don't care what just happened, I don't care about our problems - if you say you'll be there, I'll believe you, and everything else will take care of itself. Just tell me I can trust you, and I will."
That's what I meant, and that's what I was expecting an answer to. That was, however, not how she interpreted the question, and she answered, calmly and with sincerity: "No".
So there. For me, that was kind of it. I tore lose, told her she made me panic and that I couldn't believe she just said that. She changed the subject and went to check on some practicality. I told her to go to Hell, ran upstairs, slammed the door, threw myself on the bed and cried.
For me, her answer was practically the same as thrusting a divorce paper under my nose. If she herself says I can't trust her - how can I? And if I can't trust her, if she doesn't even bother about trying to behave in a way that I can trust, if she just disregard that as something unimportant, how can I submit to her? And I know, by now, that any other type relationship will dry up and go stale very fast for me. But the thing is that I have absolutely nowhere to go.
It doesn't matter how mad or sad or frustrated or heartbroken she makes me. I can't imagine a life without her, either emotionally or in a practical sense. All my dreams, all my hopes and plans and ideas, are tied to her. Everything I want to do, I want to do together with her. The idea of doing anything without her felt lika a vast, black gulf opening before me.
But on the other hand there were those words: "Can I trust you?" "No."
Well, she followed me after a few minutes, laid herself literary atop of me, like a rather heavy duvet (heavy for a duvet, that is - she's not that heavy for a human). She hugged me and said she wanted to make things better, and that whatever I had heard or interpreted was wrong and that I could trust that she loved me and wanted me and would always do her best to take her of me. That made it kind of better.
And right around when I had stopped bawling my eyes out our time was up and little S was tired of waiting and came upstairs. Like any jealous and possessive six-year-old she did her very best to not only lay on top of us but also slide herself down between us, so that the mommy-hug became two mommies hugging her, instead of two adults hugging eachother. Ah well.
The crux of the matter is I guess what it was Mistress answered to. I asked a very broad question, concerning our whole relationship, my whole existance almost. She answered a very narrow specific question regarding the immediate situation.
When we came home the water was frozen. This is our first winter in this house, and it has so far been a very mild one. We've been gone for a week, and during this week it has suddenly gotten cold. There's a cable that needs to be plugged in so that the water in the pipes doesn't freeze, and we hadn't done that, and so their was no water in the house.
This was quite easily resolved by plugging in the cable and waiting a while, but before we figured it all out and solved it, Mistress got really tense. It had been bad winter weather on the drive home too, and she really doesn't like that either. In the end she had a fit, she talked to little S in an angry voice, hit herself in the head with her fist, and stormed off. I freaked out and got very angry (also pouty and moody) and it was when we tried to resolve this everything went from bad to worse.
So when I asked can I trust you, Mistress heard: "Can I trust you to never be stressed out over a crisis again? Can I trust you to never lose your temper, have a fit an storm off?". And she answered very truthfully: No. Because even she really tries, and even if she agress that it was unneccesary and wish she had kept her cool, she can't promise me it wont happen again. Honestly, it has happened on a regular basis since I've known her, so it's pretty much the other way around; no matter how hard she tries, she most probably will do it again.
The question, then, is; can I trust her? Can I trust her, even though she throws fits when she gets stresses, even though she hits herself in the head when she gets overwhelmed, even though she answers literarily to a loaded question in the middle of a relational crisis without regards to hwo that answer might be interpreted? Can I trust her, when this is who she is and how she will behave?
Yes, absolutely. Everyday, for the rest of my life. I don't care what idiotic things she says when she's lost her theory of mind due to stress. I trust her.
I belong to her, and I trust.
Jan 3, 2016
Seesaw
And then we got home and within three hours I was in the fetal position in our bed, crying my eyes out and accusing Mistress of breaking up with me. I hate that we do this. It's like some weird seesaw, if we are starting to get closer and more intimate, we somehow always end up with epic fights that rip us apart. I hate that.
This is so freaking normal for us, we've been doing this song and dance since we first fell in love. We have learnt, however, to make up faster than before. It took only a few hours before we had settled down again and were cuddling on the sofa.
I slept badly though, and feel a little off today. Even though we make it better, it still hurts. Words were said that can't be unsaid, and I feel a little tender and wary. I want to be loving and trusting and open and submitting. But that also makes me vulnerable and sensitive, which means both that I notice things and care more about things, and that things that hurt me hurts much more.
This is so freaking normal for us, we've been doing this song and dance since we first fell in love. We have learnt, however, to make up faster than before. It took only a few hours before we had settled down again and were cuddling on the sofa.
I slept badly though, and feel a little off today. Even though we make it better, it still hurts. Words were said that can't be unsaid, and I feel a little tender and wary. I want to be loving and trusting and open and submitting. But that also makes me vulnerable and sensitive, which means both that I notice things and care more about things, and that things that hurt me hurts much more.
Jan 1, 2016
Looking back and feeling loved
It's ten years ago now that me and Mistress moved in together. Or it will be, in a week or so. I remember Christmas 2005, it was horrible. Our poly triad was in it's death throes and I was so utterly miserable, with almost every aspect of my life. It was that Christmas I decided I would spend a week at my mothers' home and not talk to either of them, Mistress or my boyfriend/then-Master.
After a few days I missed her. I didn't miss him. And that was kind of it. It still took me about two weeks after that to actually make up my mind and say something about it. Two absolutely miserable weeks. And then one night me and him were laying in bed, he tried to have sex with me, I pushed him away and he started to cry. And I said I wanted to break up with him, that it was over. I don't remember everything we said, but I remember the despair. And that he said he would kill himself, and I said alright, if you do that I'll kill myself to. Come on, let's do it. He didn't, obviously, and I guess we fell asleep after that.
I left as soon as I could, but there were a lot of agonising moments before we were finally separated. Packing up stuff, moving, seeing each other and not talking. The bleak despair of it all. And Mistress, suffering from our agony and afraid I think that I would leave her too - and yet by my side, all the time, supporting me.
I moved in with her, and I remember that we both agreed that it would be best for me to get my own place somewhere, to land on my feet and be self sufficient before we could build a life togehter. It sounded so wise and thoughtful and right. But I didn't want to be anywhere except exactly where she was, so that didn't happen. In March 2006 she proposed to me and I said yes, and we lived in her apartment until she bought us a bigger one in June that year.
We got married in August 2007, little S was conceived during the fall of 2008, with a lot of frustrating trips to the hospital, and she was born in August 2009. We moved again in the summer of 2010, to a three bedroom apartment in the same city.
I began my studies in psychology that same year me and Mistress moved in together, my first term started in January 2006. I took a slightly involuntary break in 2008 because I wanted to change schools to my home town to get out of commuting and hade to wait for a spot to open up in the right term in my new school. And then I took some more leave because of little S. In the end, I didn't graduate until the spring of 2013.
What we didn't know until the fall of 2012 was that I have ADHD. It's a bit strange now to think back and realise how different we would have looked at things if we knew. But we didn't, and we made the best decisions we could with what we knew. I got sick from exhaustion, from trying to be a good mom to a high need baby and successfull at a demanding education and managing all of the life stresses that everyone has to handle. I'm quite a bit worse at that than most people, however, and by the summer of 2012, I was in a really really bad shape. We were training to become therapists in school by then, and I remember that my first patient was in much better shape than I was (though I never told anyone in school (and of course didn't say anything to my patient)).
I got medication and eventually an ADHD-diagnosis and medication for that too, just in time to save the paper I had to write for my Masters degree. And I got my degree as a psychologist. Then I didn't get a job. It was actually a really good time, the summer and fall of 2013. I didn't do much, I mostly recuperated. Eventually I got a job, but in a different part of the country, and my heroic family moved with me in the summer of 2014 for a year in exile. And in the summer of 2015 I was done, got my license and a job back home again. And here we are now.
It's been quite a ride these last ten years. And all this time, in all the ups and downs and varying circumstances, Mistress has been with me. She has kept me, in all the meanings of the word. She has her job, and even though it's stressfull and bad and she's not appreciated as she should be (because of patriarchy and misogynistic pricks for bosses) at times, it's also fun I think, and the job itself seems to suit her. It's paid our bills all this time, she has supported me through school (I've worked some, and have student loans, but it's a pittance compared to her contribution) and we would never been able to afford going to school with a kid without her income.
And she's loved me. Every day. A few days ago we discussed that I can take critique in a better way now (even if I'm still bad at it). And I realised that one important thing is that now, at 35, I've lived more years in a loving, supporting environment, than I did in the suppressive, hateful one I grew up in. It's much easier admitting mistakes when it's finally sunk in that it wont mean being ridiculed. I'm loved. No matter what happens in the future, I know I'm loved.
(Also, spanked and controlled and fucked. That's good stuff to.)
After a few days I missed her. I didn't miss him. And that was kind of it. It still took me about two weeks after that to actually make up my mind and say something about it. Two absolutely miserable weeks. And then one night me and him were laying in bed, he tried to have sex with me, I pushed him away and he started to cry. And I said I wanted to break up with him, that it was over. I don't remember everything we said, but I remember the despair. And that he said he would kill himself, and I said alright, if you do that I'll kill myself to. Come on, let's do it. He didn't, obviously, and I guess we fell asleep after that.
I left as soon as I could, but there were a lot of agonising moments before we were finally separated. Packing up stuff, moving, seeing each other and not talking. The bleak despair of it all. And Mistress, suffering from our agony and afraid I think that I would leave her too - and yet by my side, all the time, supporting me.
I moved in with her, and I remember that we both agreed that it would be best for me to get my own place somewhere, to land on my feet and be self sufficient before we could build a life togehter. It sounded so wise and thoughtful and right. But I didn't want to be anywhere except exactly where she was, so that didn't happen. In March 2006 she proposed to me and I said yes, and we lived in her apartment until she bought us a bigger one in June that year.
We got married in August 2007, little S was conceived during the fall of 2008, with a lot of frustrating trips to the hospital, and she was born in August 2009. We moved again in the summer of 2010, to a three bedroom apartment in the same city.
I began my studies in psychology that same year me and Mistress moved in together, my first term started in January 2006. I took a slightly involuntary break in 2008 because I wanted to change schools to my home town to get out of commuting and hade to wait for a spot to open up in the right term in my new school. And then I took some more leave because of little S. In the end, I didn't graduate until the spring of 2013.
What we didn't know until the fall of 2012 was that I have ADHD. It's a bit strange now to think back and realise how different we would have looked at things if we knew. But we didn't, and we made the best decisions we could with what we knew. I got sick from exhaustion, from trying to be a good mom to a high need baby and successfull at a demanding education and managing all of the life stresses that everyone has to handle. I'm quite a bit worse at that than most people, however, and by the summer of 2012, I was in a really really bad shape. We were training to become therapists in school by then, and I remember that my first patient was in much better shape than I was (though I never told anyone in school (and of course didn't say anything to my patient)).
I got medication and eventually an ADHD-diagnosis and medication for that too, just in time to save the paper I had to write for my Masters degree. And I got my degree as a psychologist. Then I didn't get a job. It was actually a really good time, the summer and fall of 2013. I didn't do much, I mostly recuperated. Eventually I got a job, but in a different part of the country, and my heroic family moved with me in the summer of 2014 for a year in exile. And in the summer of 2015 I was done, got my license and a job back home again. And here we are now.
It's been quite a ride these last ten years. And all this time, in all the ups and downs and varying circumstances, Mistress has been with me. She has kept me, in all the meanings of the word. She has her job, and even though it's stressfull and bad and she's not appreciated as she should be (because of patriarchy and misogynistic pricks for bosses) at times, it's also fun I think, and the job itself seems to suit her. It's paid our bills all this time, she has supported me through school (I've worked some, and have student loans, but it's a pittance compared to her contribution) and we would never been able to afford going to school with a kid without her income.
And she's loved me. Every day. A few days ago we discussed that I can take critique in a better way now (even if I'm still bad at it). And I realised that one important thing is that now, at 35, I've lived more years in a loving, supporting environment, than I did in the suppressive, hateful one I grew up in. It's much easier admitting mistakes when it's finally sunk in that it wont mean being ridiculed. I'm loved. No matter what happens in the future, I know I'm loved.
(Also, spanked and controlled and fucked. That's good stuff to.)
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