Do · you · know · where · the · ent-wives · went?
i have a pretty good idea...
I should be proud of myself. The past couple of days - since he turned me away for slipping into behaviours I was taught - has been spent in reflection. I've realised that I've come a long, long way.
A year and a half ago I was afraid. I was afraid to open email, to answer the door, to answer the phone. I feared leaving the house by myself. This was bad enough that it nearly took somebody driving me around to get me out long enough to find a job. I was afraid to tell people what I thought, what I felt. My name. I was afraid of myself. I was afraid of my children - that they would outgrow me and not need me anymore. I was afraid to get dressed without asking approval from somebody. I was afraid to shower if somebody objected. I could do nothing for anybody without approval.
I was worthless.
Now I'm not as afraid. I drive nearly everywhere by myself, in a car that I'm working on buying. Even if it is a little smashed up. I got my last two jobs by myself by choosing my own clothes, walking into the places, and being myself. I'm getting ready to start the last semester of school, so that I can get a license to do something that has interested me for years. I am already making plans and taking the first steps to get a business started working with that license. I share my thoughts, and some people actually listen, and use my suggestions. I'm not afraid to let people know that, yes, this is me.
Sometimes it's still a huge struggle, but I've even done a few things without approval. I've been to the beach a few times without telling anybody, without asking permission, and without getting in trouble for it. I've made a few friendly acquaintances that nobody necessarily knows about.
Sometimes, when things are starting to get bad and it feels like I'm not going to be able to keep things under any sort of control, I feel the need for that fear. I feel the need for the support of having somebody else approve of everything before it's done. I feel like the pet I was trained to be, and honestly openly yearn for somebody to just hold me and tell me it will all be ok. Sometimes I cry because, with things as they are, I can't get that.
But not often.
It has happened more the past couple of weeks than it has in a long time. I think that stemmed from the sudden and abrupt end to my job, which resulted in my very nearly losing everything. It made me wake up to the fact that things aren't nearly as secure as I would like to think they are. It sent me into a panic. I reverted. And I think that, maybe, if I had something special to hold onto - something that reminds me of the one I depend on and love most - that it would help. That I might not have to revert so much, and cling so much... both to this particular person, and to the past.
I don't know.
But for now, it's enough to see how much I've improved. It has to be. One of the few things that might improve things, both for me and for the important people in my lif, would be if these improvements could be the main focus of things. Not how far I still have to go.
I know there's a long, long road still ahead of me. I'm walking it one small step at a time. I hope they continue to walk it with me - and that they can look back and see how far we've come together. Because that's been the longest journey of my life.
Maybe, just maybe, if that can happen, a few things can be forgiven and forgotten. Maybe we can pick up the load and carry it together a little further. I'll still be carrying as much of my own luggage as possible. And honestly, I can handle it better now than ever before.
It would be nice if they can see that the same way I do.
I am proud of myself.
It's time that I admit to being very, very afraid.
The first girl is still here, even after a move (that happened almost three months ago). All of my spellwork to protect myself from her has started to fail. I have been unable to eat anything she cooks, unable to sleep while she's in the house and awake - and sometimes when she's asleep - and have actually become violently physically ill at the sound of her voice. Ill to the point of having to run across the house to vomit because I don't dare use the one between the bedrooms. That's HER territory. It gives me migraine type headaches to go in and clean it (because she won't) even when she's gone. It makes my stomach churn and my skin itch to cuddle with the Bodyguard after he's laid next to her all night. It makes me feel somehow DIRTY, a dirty that won't wash off. It's even worse after they've fucked.
I fear because I wake when she does. Because of that, I KNOW when they fuck. The power of this whatever it is increases, and will stay stronger for days.
I fear because she still has so much of a hold on the Bodyguard.
I fear because of what all of this is doing to my body.
I fear because of my weakened state - and so does the Bodyguard. He's expressed serious concern about weight loss, and has determined to make me gain a few pounds. This after his encouraging the weight loss right after moving in with them.
I fear that I will be unable to build enough energy to even cast a protective spell soon.
What will happen will happen, as the Gods will it, but I am still very, very afraid.
've just discovered I can tell when J-- is awake and in the house. I was layiing here trying to sleep and all of a sudden the hair on the back of my neck stood up, and the muscles in my back tensed. Kind of like a dog getting ready to either attack or defend something. You know? A few seconds later I heard their bedroom door slam shut. All the way across the house. She'd gotten up to let the cats out of there.
There's got to be something seriously wrong for that type of reaction and sensitivity to happen.
hy is it that, as a culture, we are more comfortable seeing two men holding guns than holding hands?" - Ernest Gaines
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Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind.
e's working late. Really late. Has shown as being away fromt he computer on all IM services for well over two hours, and isn't answering text messages... Worried about him. Want him home, in my arms, all safe and warm.
The Bodyguard and i took the Boy to get shoes and stopped off at Hastings on the way back. It's the closest thing we have to a bookstore around here. We were looking at getting him a book on magic, or a little kit for science experiments, or whatever. Something for him to learn to keep him occupied. He wanted nothing to do with it. All he wanted was to look at books about cars - and not JUST cars, but the big jacked up redneck mobiles that so many around here have. Not even dinosaurs could pull him away from that. We tried to find him some storybooks that he might like, but he wanted nothing to do with that, either... because "they're not real". No Captain Underpants or Narnia or Hardy Boys or anything. Living here has completely sapped the imagination out of him. He's way too young for that.
On the up side... Even though i was sleeping on the mattress from a foldout couch on the floor in the most remote (and stuffed to the gills full) room in the house, BG ended up sleeping more with me than with the first. We have this thing where he comes and lays down with me for a while, then will get up after i fall asleep (or come close to it) and go into his room. More comfortable bed. i don't blame him. This is a nightly ritual. This also almost didn't happen all weekend. He got pissed.
The first has a really bad habit of coming to whichever room we happen to be laying down in at about 1 am and pounding the living hell out of the door. She did that Saturday, and it woke the girls up. She did it even though the door was wide open and she could most likely hear us talking about what we had planned for the kids on Sunday... just came, stood in the doorframe for a few seconds, and slammed her fist into the door a few times. She did it because i fell asleep on their bed Friday night - i had shooed the two of them out the door to go to a movie, to have time to themselves, and not be overloaded with munchkins for the entire weekend - and she got pissed that i was allowed to stay there all night.
Sad thing is, that was only the END of Saturday. She woke up in a bad mood. She stayed that way all day, refusing to get up and dressed until well after 10. Even though everybody else in the house was up and eating breakfast by 8. Even then it was only because she thought she would be going to the scrapyard with BG to find some stuff to work with at the forge. He flat told her that he wasn't going to let her go because of her attitude, told her to stay home and watch the kids, and came and asked me to go along instead. :D
So we went. And were gone for a while - maybe an hour, hour and a half... not too bad. We get back to the house a little after noon and find the kids running around the living room and kitchen unsupervised. Not too bad, but not good, either. We found her asleep in her room with the door closed. Really not good. We also found out that she had given the kids a handful of crackers for snack right after he and i left, so she thought they didn't HAVE to have lunch, so didn't make them any. REALLY not good.
i got pissed.
He got pissed. Then even more pissed after that ever-so-lovely call to come to bed.
He told me Sunday while we were out and about with the Boy that even though he didn't rush off to bed when she came pounding at the door, she was sitting up waiting for him Saturday night. That they had fought until nearly three. And that he nearly just shut the bedroom door and came back to sleep with me on the floor when he saw her sitting there.
The same thing happened on Sunday night - except she didn't bang on the door. She slammed kitchen cabinet doors instead. Woke up the Boy, but he went back to sleep after a couple of minutes. BG was laying with me again... He heard her, sighed, and cuddled closer. Eventually he went in there, but it was easy to tell he didn't want to. Didn't want to put up with her.
Yesterday morning i went in to wake them up - again, a daily ritual thing - and had a really hard time of it. They're hard to wake up anyway but it was worse than normal. Finally got BG up and moving and when he came out to the kitchen for a crash course in making crepes he said something about another really long night. i can only assume they were up argueing again. When she finally emerged she had nice fresh scratches all down one side of her face. Obviously something that had happened more than once - probably a dozen nice red marks. He told me that she had come into the bathroom while he was in there and told him that she had scratched herself while having nightmares. A pretty obvious lie - the first scratch would have made her wake up. They were DEEP. One was close to bleeding, i think. She just wanted to get his attention. He said that he told her that if she was going to hurt herself, she might as well do it right and at least land in the hospital. Attention ploys like that do nothing but make him mad.
This would have happened soon enough anyway, but i was kind of the catalyst for it. i showed up and got into their lives in a big way. i feel bad that it's causing so much of a problem, especially for him, but jeez... Something's got to give somewhere. i get the feeling it's going to have to be her.
I admit to missing having blue collar hands. You know the ones - the ones that are thick and rough, with blisters and callouses, scarred up from assorted mishaps while working with tools and things. To me, they're a sign of a hard worker. They're a sign that somebody's not afraid to go out and just do what needs to be done, with little to no complaint.
They're honest hands.
I was proud to discover a callous forming on my thumb a couple of weeks ago. It was from the work I was doing in that factory - which I can not do anymore. An injured wrist threw that in my face.
Now that little spot is gone. It hadn't actually gotten hard yet, just started getting to the point that the one area was a little numb. The thicker, hardened skin comes not too long afterward. My hands are pale, thin, and soft. The nails aren't polished, but extend past the points of my fingertips.
This is a disgrace.
It means I've passed the point of being able to go out and do physical labor. I will never again be proud of the fact that my hands, even as a woman, show that I can do the same type of things a man can do.
Maybe what makes this so bad is the fact that I gave up the chance at a more physically demanding job, one that would roughen these stupid hands, to please the man I've come to love. The one I've come to depend on. The second person in my life i've ever offered myself to completely. As a submissive. As a woman, friend, and admirer. i offered to let him own me.
He turned me down. i came up lacking.
Unable to please him enough. Unable to return to the life i loved. Unable to do the same things i've always found comforting.
What good am i?
| Spring Tank|
You scored 30% Totality, 70% Awesomeness, 40% Randomness, and 40% Conceptitude!
| You're a tank on springs! Why, God, why? There's no good reason for that! |
| My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:|
|You scored higher than 99% on Totality|
|You scored higher than 99% on Awesomeness|
|You scored higher than 99% on Randomness|
|You scored higher than 99% on Conceptitude|