poeticdesires

Category: Wisdom

  • Driving the Lamborghini

    I had a reality check from a friend recently. As some of you may or may not know, I was featured in a documentary. Due to the wackiness that is my current life at times, I still have not seen it, even though it aired over a week ago and has already had a repeat showing.

    But me seeing the show is not the point of this entry.

    The point is how my friend, who did see the show, reacted to my section in it. They were proud of me, of how I held myself in the interview section, of how poised and eloquent I was in answering some tough questions surrounding kink, race, and feminism.

    Not only did they greatly enjoy the time I was featured in the documentary, others who I also respect gave me praise via Twitter. The night the show aired, even though I was getting pretty sick, I still felt pretty awesome.

    But here comes the rub.

    In my friend’s email, they praised me, but they also chided me. In their opinion, my current life was the equivalent of a person driving a Lamborghini to the grocery store and back, fearful that they’d get into an accident if they really took their vehicle out for a ride.

    My friend feels I am not pushing myself to do better, be better, in my chosen profession. They rightly pointed out my level of intelligence far exceeds the needs of my current field.

    I am, often, the most intelligent person in my group of work colleagues. I didn’t really take note of it before, didn’t really care unless someone was being ridiculously ignorant because, for me, all that mattered was getting the job done quickly and efficiently and going the fuck home.

    But there have been times when it has stuck out like a sore thumb, needling me in the back of my mind. Why am I doing this? Why am I here? Yes, I do this for the money, but I could be, shouldn’t I be, doing something else? Something more challenging? Something more profound?

    Ever since my friend challenged me to think beyond my current circumstance, to envision a more challenging life, a harder life, but a more fulfilling life, I haven’t been able to keep my mind from tumbling.

    The problem I’m currently faced with, the issue that really keeps my brain working, is the what. What should I do? What do I want to do? What can I become? What do I want to become? What?

    Some ideas that have floated in my whirlpool of neurons seem so daunting.

    I could become a doctor. Like my father. But not like my father. I’d want to be an abortionist. I’d want to help women, to do the hardest thing possible because it seems very few others are willing.

    But that’s ten to fifteen years of my life. And that’s a highly uncertain future. And so much money and time.

    And what if it isn’t what would make me happy? What if doesn’t give me a fulfilling life? What if it is just a dream from a feminist who sees the horrors of misogyny and religious views being thrust down women’s throats, and it is the hope of stopping the outrageous rather than the life I actually want that captures my possibility? What if it is just a strong woman’s fantasy and not an actual reality I want to come true?

    There is the baby step towards medicine: becoming an EMT. Schooling, but less than a full medical degree (and internship and residency). And I would be helping people. But again, is this a career that I want for my life or a half measure to make me feel like I am making a difference without investing all-in?

    Then there is the love I have had since childhood: writing. Being a professional, working, paid author of books. Erotica, yes. But thrillers. And horror. And fantasy. Taking all the stories bandying about in my head, putting them to print, and having the world revel in my imaginings. There are plays and screenplays. Poetry and short stories. And, of course, this blog.

    No matter what, money or not, I will write. But if I could somehow parlay that passion to an actual vehicle for my existence, that would be the best gift I have ever given myself.

    Also, though, having experienced the work of putting myself out there, allowing my views and opinions on heady subjects about our community to be broadcast on television, there is this other thought quietly murmuring too.

    What if I became another leader in our community? What if I put in the effort to create presentations and gave them at events? What if I wrote more of my opinions and thoughts on this blog? What if I opened myself up to be another leader, another personality, an avenue for people to find and learn about kink? What if I committed more of myself to this part of my life I adore and wish for others to find?

    And the last thought, the scariest thought of all, is the one I’ve held back since… forever.

    I love to act. Love to act. But I always thought opening myself up, baring my soul on stage or screen, would be the scariest thing I could do. And the most thrilling. And challenging. And exciting. And, quite possibly, were I to pursue this avenue as my work, as my life, the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s the one idea that brings tears to my eyes, the one thought that makes me tremble. And I have no idea where to start.

    So now, however many words later, I’m still not sure what I will do with my life. I don’t know how much longer I will be in my business, though it feels like my days as a tech are numbered, as I’m checking other things like the VT markets for investment and more.

    I do know I will still write, paycheck or not.

    I know I have to do some research on my options, for medical school or EMT training (maybe), and remind myself that research does not equal commitment, and I can always change my mind. And I really need to ask myself why this thought even comes to mind. Is it what I want, a dream for my future, or a fantasy of a world we do not live in?

    And I need to keep talking, to my friends, to those in my community, and realize that every kinky person is a representative, known or not, for the kink world, whether they help people find their first event or just ease the nervous temperament of a newbie they happen to meet.

    And maybe, just maybe, scary is good. Maybe I should go for the thing that scares me most. Maybe that is the answer.

    Beyond these words, I guess both you and I, dear reader, will just have to wait and see.

    But, since you’re here, dear friends, do you have any suggestions?

  • Drop the Apparently

    “So, what does that tell you?” – Doc
    “That apparently people value my thoughts and opinions more than I do.” – me
    “Drop the apparently.”

     


    ~

     
    In regards to the PS, we’re going to get a little snooty here.

    I’ve worked shows before, especially lighting. There’s some good people there. There’s some smart people there. But they are not, on the whole, a terribly challenging group intellectually. There is the occasional individual – such as yourself – who is the exception. But I’m pretty sure that in any group you’re around at work, you’re the most intelligent person there.

    That’s a comfortable place to be. You don’t have to worry about being pushed out of your comfort zone, you don’t have to worry about not being the smartest.

    You also don’t learn much in that environment. You know how to learn to play chess, right? You don’t play people who are worse than you and always win. You play people who are better than you and lose and lose and lose until eventually you don’t lose quite so much.

    But you still lose, and you grow, because people are smarter than you.

    I’ve noticed, at events, you seek out the bright stars. The philosophers, the people who seem to have something to say. You find them and you have a great time with them and usually you do it in some of the most beautiful service and submissive ways I’ve ever seen. I think you think you’re lucky to be able to hang with them.

    I think you’re wrong. I think it’s the other way around.

    I watched those people in that room as you were on TV. People who were veteran kinksters, who dealt with the public on a regular basis, whose investment in kink was their whole lives and tens if not hundreds of thousands of dollars.

    When you spoke, there were quiet nods. There were murmurs of approval and admiration, and more than one “She is good,” as you answered with grace, eloquence, and intelligence some of the hardest questions that a kinkster could be asked.

    They weren’t just saying “Wow, she did that well.” They were saying “Wow, she did that better than I could have.” I know you’re going to try and snicker a defense mechanism and assume I’m delusional or being complimentary or something about that. S’fine, we all have our barriers and our Broken Mirrors. I know what I saw, though. You don’t belong in the entourage or at the side of some person or cause. You are a leader, a visionary, someone who knows and thinks and has the god-given ability to express it. You have this amazing machine inside your head capable of doing so much.

    And you choose to do lighting. You tell me: am I wrong? Does that actually challenge you? Are you using that lambourghini you were gifted with to drive to the store and back every day, because that way you won’t have an accident?

    Maybe I’m way off base with this. Maybe I’m totally wrong and you are growing mentally and spiritually with the work you do, and using your talents to make the world a better place. If so, I apologize for my arrogance.

    But it looks to me like you’re treading water because it’s easier than swimming. And that’s both sad and maddening, because it’s a beautiful ocean and there are others in it, drowning, who need your brains.

    Here endeth the lesson. Gotta catch a plane.

    Have a nice day! 🙂

    ~

    Two different people in my life made the exact same point at almost the exact same time.

    In my latest session with Doc, we talked about a few things, but the one topic that has stuck with me most was the above quote.

    There was a moment, during our session, when I just stopped. The very next line of that exchange was me saying to myself, “People value me more than I do.” I let that statement sit in my brain, let myself sit with that realization, living with this new truth for a moment.

    Again, my immediate reaction to any compliment, to almost any praise, kicked in. Oh, they’re just being nice. Oh, yes I did well, but they could have done just as well or better. Oh, they’re sweet for saying that.

    Doc asked why I thought that, why my immediate brushing away of their compliments happened. It was obvious, after the work we’ve done, that it goes back to my issues with my father. Not having him as a constant figure in my life growing up gave me self worth issues, namely believing I was not worthy of his love or affection, therefore not worthy of others love and affection, therefore any affection sent my way was never wholly true.

    Sometimes it sucks, knowing the root of a problem and yet the issue still lingering.

    When I said that line to myself, I stopped and just thought about all the subtext in that truth. I was close to tears, but I held them back. Doc questioned me, what I was thinking in that moment, and I admitted to wanting to cry. He then called me on the wanting, asking me why I didn’t just cry. More excuses came; more work to do.

    And then, very shortly after my session with Doc, I got that email from a friend. I didn’t post the entire message to be cocky or pretentious, but instead, just like they wrote, it’s hard for me to believe.

    The message was completely unprompted and a great shock to me. In fact, I find myself reading it about once a day (if not more) because it is still hard for me to believe this person I respect so much would say those things about me.

    We all have stories we tell ourselves about our lives. But whether you are living through a comedy, tragedy, drama, thriller-action-awesomeness, it’s still just a story. The way others perceive you, though. That is who you are to the world, which can often be opposite of who you believe you are in your head.

    I’m still trying to wrap my head around this notion, of the respect of so many people I admire, and what to do with this new information. More on that to come…

  • Makeup

    Today I want to talk about a subject that, for me, is frivolous. It has almost no impact on my life, yet is prevalent throughout our culture: makeup.

    Some of you who know me may smile at the thought of me writing an entire blog entry about this topic, being that I don’t in fact ever wear makeup, but that is part of the reason why I decided to take a moment from my hectic day and expound a bit on the subject.

    Recently a male friend, when I offhandedly mentioned that I don’t wear makeup, asked me why. I thought about it for a bit. Not many people ask me that question. Most just accept the fact when I randomly mention it and move on.

    There are the practical reasons why I don’t. It saves me money and time in my hectic day. It isn’t necessary for me to be made up for my job, and could actually be a distraction/hassle in my work.

    There are the superficial personal reasons. When I was young and tried it with my mother once, I didn’t like the feel of it on my skin. I’ve seen my mother all done up (she LOVES makeup, by the way). The look just didn’t fit my personality; it’s just not me.

    And then there are my deeper thoughts about the cultural practice in general.

    I’m not trying to sound above others when I say this, but I like knowing I look the same to someone when I go to bed with them as when I wake up beside them.

    I don’t see the need to hide my flaws from people, to smooth over the blemishes on my face. I like to believe there are people who will be attracted to me for me, flaws and all.

    I find it empowering to not have to wear makeup, to not have to conform to this particular cultural norm, to just step up and step out as plain old me, accepting, embracing my less than perfect skin and still feeling beautiful.

    I’ve seen certain people, my mother included, for whom makeup is an art that heightens their beauty. With them, I understand why they love such adornment. There is a reason why professional are called makeup artists, because it is an art. But it is just not something that I wish to absorb into my own sensibilities.

    The closest I’ve come to wearing makeup is body glitter on my eye lids and cheekbones to accentuate my face. And, truth be told, I like it when I find the random flecks of glitter here or there on my person.

    I’ve thought about trying mascara, though this would specifically be for scenes. Being that I cry a lot, I’ve wondered how it would look to have my face blackened from my tears. But I have yet to play with this.

    I have one tube of lip gloss that is probably five plus years old, as well a single tube of black lipstick that I’ve owned since high school. Neither has been used in years.

    I adorn myself in jewelry (necklaces, earrings, bracelets). I have a growing and eclectic sock collection. I’m increasing the hot dress section of my wardrobe, and I hope to increase my shoe selection as well (though, with a 10 wide foot that has been challenging).

    There are plenty of ways that I am very much a girl. There is no doubt about that. But this one thing, this one part of the cultural stereotype of feminine, just does not fit me. And, well, I’m okay with that.

  • Trust And Intimacy

    “Why do you think I haven’t been in a relationship for as long as you’ve known me?”
    “Do you foster trust and intimacy?”

    I’ve been going to Doc since April of last year. We’ve talked a lot about my emotions, my attachment style, who I find myself attracted to and why, and what I want from my life.

    Recently, while listening to an older episode of Pedestrian Polyamory, in which the hosts were responding to listener mail, the duo gave a piece of sound and poignant advice. They suggested the email writer seek advice from a good friend, going up to them and asking bluntly, So, what’s up with me? What’s my deal? What’s off? Why did the friend think the email writer was not getting responses on a social dating website.

    This got me thinking, as podcasts often do. Maybe I should do this. Maybe I should ask a friend or two what they thought concerning my lack of partners in the time that they’ve known me.

    A good number of my now close friends I met through my explosion into the greater public kink scene, which happened after I left my Ex. None of these folks have met my Ex, have never seen me inside of a commited partnered relationship.

    When I asked a friend, their response was the question above. Of course that go me thinking deeper.

    Trust and intimacy.

    From their viewpoint, the way you find yourself in a relationship, the way one starts a relationship the first place, is through the development of trust and intimacy with another. In the time they have known me, they’ve only seen me foster these two important components of a partnership with one person.

    Thinking back on the past three years, I could not disagree with them.

    As I’ve spoken about with Doc, I have trouble expressing my emotions to others for fear of rejection on basically every level of my life. This has gotten much better since I’ve been speaking with Doc, but the process of therapy is a series of baby steps, small moves. And it hasn’t even been a year yet.

    With that in mind, I have yet another goal for myself for this year, one focused soley on my heart.

    I will trust others with my intimate thoughts and feelings, believing the people I care for and love will care for and love me back even when I let my guard down, even when I’m not full of smiles and cheer.

    I will know that blending in is okay, but being me, and all that entails, is even better.

    I will be open, really open, with those around me, even though it’s scary and nervous making.

    I will be strong by letting go of my defenses.

    I will know, deep in my gut, that I am worthy of my emotions, that they are important and valid and need to be expressed just as much as those of others.

    I will foster trust and intimacy in my life.

  • Smile Dance Be

    It wasn’t hard to choose my next three words for my year, considering I’d already started practicing their ideaology this past month.

    Smile

    As I previously mentioned in a post, Doc recommended I try to smile more. Smiling has never really been a problem for me, but I like the idea of doing it intentionally.

    I want to stop and smile when I see something that amuses me, when I notice something amusing about my life.

    I want to use my smile to take moments to enjoy my life. To live in the now. To soak in the awesome that is my every day. To highlight the amazing when it happens. To find joy. To deal with sorrow.

    I will smile.

    Dance

    I work. I write. I run, occasionally. And I do yoga a little less than I run.

    I have family. I have friends. I do things… a lot of things.

    This past year has been hectic, with my at times packed schedule and crammed in work and trying to see everyone I care about, and and and…

    Sometimes it felt like I was juggling on the edge of a cliff. Sometimes it felt like I was plugging the holes of a dyke with each of my fingers, toes, knees, and nose. Sometimes I laughed. Sometimes I cried.

    My life was, and is, anything but simple.

    Still, I want to dare myself to dance instead of struggle. Dance, instead of worry. Dance, instead of fret or fear.

    Know that love is more important than I let it be. Know that the people in my life deserve more of me. Know that my passions are necessary, not secondary.

    I will dance.

    Be

    Too often I expect myself to be someone or something that I am not. Too often I set up impossible expectations for myself. I don’t just let myself be.

    So goal number three: just be.

    Allow myself to be sad or upset, instead of holding it all in. Allow myself to be honest instead of lying about my emotions. Allow myself to be a person, not atop a pedestal doomed to fall flat at the slightest touch, but down on this earth and grounded in truth and love.

    I am me, left, right or center of whatever perfect is.

    I will just be me.

  • Deadline

    I can hear laughter, chatting. I still need to shower, wash my hair, and change my clothes. My bottle of champagne is not yet in the refrigerator. I haven’t even grabbed dinner yet.

    I literally walked into the house about five minutes ago after working ten hours today.

    I’m sitting on my bed, work clothes off, feverishly typing on my netbook trying to not disappointment myself.

    I set a few goals this year, but none has been so difficult as writing for this blog.

    Everyday. Well, an average of everyday, I strove to write one entry. Whether my aim was erotica, a rant, some random story about my life, or, more often than not, a retelling of a kinky adventure, I set out a year ago to push myself to produce more content than I ever had before.

    One lesson I learned about my motivational style was rather simple yet had eluded me til now: Set a deadline.

    A year already has a put in place schedule for me to follow, and the end of each month made for a natural constant goal for me to keep up with. A few times I fell short and needed to write one or two extra blogs for the next month. However, with that steady reminder of my constant aim, I slogged threw this year.

    And now, with just under four hours til my ultimate deadline (when I initially wrote the rough draft of this entry), I am trying to meet my very last goal for this year. I’m not sure if I will, but dammit I’m going to try.

    I’ve worked hard and I want to do this. I want to prove to myself that I can do this, that I can push myself to finish. Writing isn’t hard, despite what people may say. But finishing? Finishing is a bitch ass motherfucker.

    And with this lesson conveyed, and hopefully learned, seconds dripping away quickly, I’m one of six blogs complete.

  • Guidance

    For the past year I have used three words to guide my days: Bravery, Endurance, and Forgiveness.

    Endurance

    I slogged through twelve events, an often difficult work schedule, writing the hundreds of blogs for this forum, and working on my current trio of novels yet to be published.

    I had harrowing moments, especially my San Francisco and Minnesota travel odysseys. Never have I been so happy to be carry-on only. Nor was I so glad that I had seven hours to make it to the Meet & Greet.

    I made it through my year, eking out tight schedules, including my September of four events (with two literally back-to-back; stepping off a plane, hopping into my car, and driving to the next event for setup), as well as the hardest three work days of my life (fifteen hours the first day, eighteen and a half hours the second day, and eight hours the third, with precious little sleep in between).

    I wrote fifty thousand words while flying to San Francisco, while still making it to gigs, and while still trying to give you fresh words everyday.

    I knew, going into my year, that it wasn’t going to be easy. But, even more than the struggle, even more the hardship, my endurance gave me strength. I learned from my adversity, gained the knowledge of how hard I can push myself, how much I can accomplish when I just put my head down and barrel through.

    I endured.

    Bravery

    I have never been so scared as when I flew out to San Francisco for the first time. I’d never been to the west coast, and I was going to an event where I would know little to no one, save for the two folks I shared a hotel room with.

    On the first day, when I put on my school girl outfit and made my way to my first class, I was beyond nervous. Would anyone here get me? Accept me? Would I find my place in this new sphere?

    After that first day, I relaxed… a little. I let myself just be, even though I was still nervous enough to shake. But with each passing moment, I met someone new. Or I saw a familiar face. Or I allowed myself to explore the city, and just be me.

    Part of me craves adventure, whether it be a completely unfamiliar realm or rediscovering a traveled place. This year afforded me time to go to so many spots I had never been before: Atlanta, Chicago, London!

    I traveled across the pond, saw a dear friend, spent time with another, and made even more connections. Yes, I was scared when I got on the plane, scared when I landed, scared when I got lost for a very uncomfortable hour near the Elephant & Castle station.

    But I didn’t let my fear rule me. I didn’t let my nerves or self doubt stop me.

    I was brave.

    Forgiveness

    One of the biggest changes for me this year has been going to see Doc. I know he’s not some sort of magic man. All the work we’ve done has been small changes, little moves, but enough to slowly reshape my views of myself and my life.

    Often I am hard on myself. Often I don’t give myself the care I give to others, the love and support I offer to others. Doc urged me to be kind to myself, love myself. He encouraged me to share my feelings instead of holding them in for fear of judgement, rejection.

    I know my work with Doc is not done. I know I am not a perfect person; no one is. I know the ideas I have of others, elevated up on pillars, high above what I could ever aspire for, are complete and total bullshit.

    But I’ve stopped calling myself stupid when I make a small mistake at work. I’ve pushed myself to not believe one conversation about how I feel, one small gesture of affection, or one simple misstep will end my connection with another.

    I’ve created this small space for me to just be. It’s tiny, but it’s comfy. And it keeps growing. Every time I look in the mirror and smile. Every time I take a picture of myself and post it on Twitter. Every time I talk to a friend and tell them how crappy something is without fear of them shunning me. Every time I am just a little kinder to myself, that space grows.

    I can forgive myself for just being me.

    And now, with a year gone by, it’s time for three more words to guide me. More on that in a future entry.

  • Smile

    My session with Doc today was surprisingly awesome.

    We started talking about OKCupid and how I’ve completely revamped my profile, basically lifting my recent blog post about my disappointment with the site and pasting it into my profile, including the list of minimum qualifications.

    My daily message count has drop significantly, but I’m actually pretty good with that. The quality coming my way most days was meh.

    After talking about OKC, we transitioned into talking about happiness.

    I watched a bunch of TED Talks last night, one of which was seven minutes just on the power of smiling.

    Smiling lifts your mood, is a stress reliever, and can make you seem more appealing to the opposite sex.

    Doc found it interesting that of all the TED Talks I could’ve watched, I happened upon that one.

    And then I got my homework for this week: smiling.

    Doc encouraged me to smile at random times in the day. He asked me to try to take fifteen to thirty minutes where I just plaster a smile on my face and leave it there. He suggested I do it at home, in case I was worried about seeming odd while out and about. This act alone, he posited, would be enough to lift my overall mood.

    Doc also suggested a smiling exercise throughout my day. If I came upon a stressful situation, he asked me to smile, take a deep breath in, sigh out, and speak what word or words fit the situation. He encouraged me to develop a mantra of my own for my smile-sigh practice.

    The point of the exercise is for me to re-train my brain to deal with stress and negative moments and emotions, to learn to slow down, relax, and process, to find a way to get through without letting the situation overcome me.

    With that in mind, I turn that homework over to all of you. Why don’t you, my amazing readers, try heeding my Doc’s advice?

    Smile more. Smile often. Take a moment, when something gets tough or seemingly overwhelming, to just stop, smile, sigh, and maybe just say “fuck it” or “okay” or “I’ll get through”.

    How much better could your life be if you just choose to make yourself happier? If you choose to try to be a bit brighter. Or, and this is the best part, if you just fool your brain into believing that you are indeed happy. Turns out, according to Doc, that the emotional part of our brains are pretty stupid. If you just smile, right now, for no good reason, and leave that plastered on your face for a minute, you will feel happier. Your brain will think, “Hey, I guess I’m happy because I’m smiling.”

    So try it. Who knows? You might turn into a smiling happy fool. And wouldn’t the world be just a little bit better with a few more of those in our lives?

  • Tuned In

    My life infects my writing.
    My writing infects my life.     – me, in a random moment of realization and blunt honesty

    So there was this moment at work. Well, no, it wasn’t actually at work, but it was during the break between our setup and our tear down. It was this subtle little thing, a blink of an eye, yet as soon as it happened I had the feeling I would end up telling Doc about it. And I did just that today.

    I was sitting in a booth in a diner with two of my co-workers. One sat next to me, the other across from us. The one who sat next to me was a nice guy, which I already knew. He was in charge for both calls and I had worked with him before.

    However this was the first time we had had a chance to chat for more than a minute or two. He gave me a ride to the diner since I drove the box truck for the event and we chatted in his vehicle.

    He was a really good guy. Like I said, I’d sort of knew that, but hadn’t experienced it first hand before. I know his girlfriend and, since she was with him, knew that he had be to pretty awesome. And he is.

    So we’re all sitting in the booth, finished with our meals, killing time while waiting to go back to work. The boys (my other co-worker was also a guy) were chatting about sound stuff, an area that I have almost zero interest in. I spent my time playing on my phone and reading my Twitter feed.

    So they’re talking, and I’m ignoring them, when the super awesome nice guy sitting next to me crosses his arms, resting them on the table, leaving his left hand dangling there. And I immediately have this desire to reach out and grab his hand, hold it, grip his fingers with my own.

    The moment was so striking, it hit me almost like a Mach truck. (Yes, this experience is what inspired PDA.)

    Of course I didn’t do it. He was not my boyfriend, he has an awesome girlfriend who I like a lot, and I, like most adults, have a modicum of self control.

    But that moment has stuck with me for the past few days.

    When I spoke to Doc about it, he had me explain why it happened. There are a few reasons.

    First, Doc, as homework, has stressed for me to actively tune into my emotions. He wants me to be aware of how I am feeling moment to moment and see how that affects my day-to-day, especially in the area of me opening up to people about my feelings.

    Second, this particular job happened to be the last gig I had before the slow season at work started. I was highly stressed, having had little sleep in the past few days coupled with lots of work.

    Lastly, this moment, though it was in between gigs, was also highly relaxing. The boys were talking exuberantly about sound design. I was enjoying my time on the interwebs. We were all getting along smashingly.

    All of this led to my flash of awareness of something I wanted. Because I was tuned into my emotions, I realized all at once:

    1- This guy sitting next to me was awesome, a fact I had not fully appreciated before.
    2- I felt the need to be comforted, to have someone in my life be there for me when times got difficult, when the stresses of the busy season got to me.
    & 3- I need someone in my life to fill this roll.

    I can say a lot of things about my Ex, but this was one area where he got it right. My Ex was my champion, my cheerleader. He always thought more of me, more of my work than I did, and was there for me when I came home tired, worn out, and needing a strong set of arms to fall into.

    It’s been three years since I broke up with him, three years without that person to come home too. I’ve spent almost as long outside of our relationship as I spent in it. And though I don’t want him back, I want that person in my life again.

    I want that person to come home to, that person who is my champion, my cheerleader. I want those arms to fall into at night, that voice telling me how great I am, that I can do it, that it will all be okay.

    I want a partner again.

  • Telling

    ~ a fictional truth ~

    When you came home, tired from work, grumpier than normal. When you flopped down on the couch, kicked off your shoes, and said you wanted nothing more than to be left alone. When I slowly crept beside you, and softly asked if you wanted me to rub your shoulders. Or fix you dinner. Or just leave you alone for an hour. When I asked in the way I know is soothing to you, whether you know it or not.

    That was me taking care of you, being there for you, telling you how much you mean to me.

    When you left for work this morning, rushed as ever, focusing on your day’s endeavours. When you couldn’t pick out the right look for your big presentation. When you couldn’t remember where you’d placed your keys. When you almost walked out the door without your lunch. Or your scarf, even though it’s been freezing outside all day for days. When I picked just the right look, found your keys, wrapped your scarf around your neck, and kissed you bye as you rushed off.

    That was me being your champion, your cheerleader, the person who always has faith in you, the person who knows how great you are, telling you how great you can be.

    When we slipped off to sleep in each others arms, our breathing the only noise in our room. When I nuzzled my cheek against your skin. When I sighed in that way I sometimes do when falling asleep, allowing my body and my breath to fall into you.

    That was me telling you how comforting you make me feel, how safe my world is when I’m with you, how you are my home.

    When you kissed me, your lips so gentle against mine. When your hands explored my body. When I arched my back, breathed heavy into your ear, and whispered dirty thoughts your way. When I relaxed and let my body be with your flesh. When I came.

    That was me telling you how much I want you, need you, desire you, love you.