Days of My Life

I’ve been saving this for a while and thought I’d put it up to share today. This is about a relationship that has passed, but the sentiment remains the same. Some people weren’t meant to be in our lives forever, but there’s nothing wrong with cherishing the time they were there. Enjoy!

I want so much to tell you about the love that found me. Out of deference to your feelings, I restrain myself. But I’ll tell it here.

I am so in love with this man until I understand the word “dangerously.”
He supports me with his words, honors me with his tenderness, and loves me with every ounce of his being. He talks to me. He communicates daily how much he loves me and how blessed he is to have me in his life. When I mention a wish, he fulfills my desires. When I hint at a problem, he’s already trying to solve it. And when it comes to lovemaking, he deserves an award. With every step and every touch, he’s communicating with me, in me, to me. To see me, taste me, touch me, smell me, feel me– brings him joy. I am his gift, and daily he unwraps me and tapes my paper back together again when he’s done.

He is generous. He is kind. He understands my mind while I am still working on the words to speak. He judges not. He appreciates even the bad parts of me. Not that I can do no wrong, but there is no wrong that I can do to make him want to separate himself from me.

When I tell him that his hands are beautiful, he is careful to make sure that they get no scars. When I say I love the feel of the fur on his face against my skin, he maintains the perfect amount of stubble just for me. When I am weak, he carries me. When I am sad, he consoles me. When I am afraid, he shields me. When I pray, he covers me. He loves me.

He makes me sing how I’ve never felt this way about love in a Brian McKnight kind of way. He makes me India.Arie crave his Brown Skin to receive his Chocolate High as my Therapy while he Purifies Me. He gives me an Eric Benet Everlove sensation in between every heart beat.

This is how he loves me, and I do not apologize. One day I will tell how I love him and still with no apology.

I woke up this morning around 6am feeling profoundly alone. A conversation last week with a friend of mine who lost his mom last year pretty much summed it up. When someone close passes, you are bombarded with phone calls from those who care for you and silence from those who aren’t so close. I guess they don’t know what to say. Initially, all you want is space to breathe, but you appreciate the closeness of others. Then one day you look up and realize that a week has passed and your phone hasn’t rang. And people returning your calls doesn’t count. What a lone and solitary road this grieving is.

I have noticed now that when I talk to people they may ask how I’m doing but not really want to know, the general consensus being that I should somehow be better or over it by now. I understand. I’ve been there with others whose grief just seemed to be consuming them. Now, I realize that I may actually be as alone as I feel. I’ve found any number of things to distract me, and I’ve come up with some whoppers for distractions, but at the end of the day, I am still an earthly fatherless child. I have many other-mothers and a living mom, but I only had one earthly father.

I am well aware that the majority of our grieving is for our own loss and not so much for the person who’s gone. I’m glad he has peace. What is left is the awesome feeling of, “What about me?!” I think of the title “Things We Lost in the Fire” and hope there are some things I lose in mine.

Admittedly, much of my conversation can be very self-absorbed because I’m trying to find a way to get out of living so much inside my own head while at the same time trying to deafen the silence of my grief by creating a verbal distraction. A paradox is mine.

My mom’s friends have closed ranks around her, and I really appreciate that. Many of them have lost their husbands and know how to meet her needs.

Many of my friends have not lost a parent to whom they are close, so they do not know how to meet my needs. Also, they are a part of the “me” generation and are at places in their lives where their focus is, at times, by necessity self-centered. That doesn’t mean they’re not “real” friends; it just means we go through seasons. Maybe this is my season to be alone, and the result is that I have lowered my expectations of a lot of people. Some I had low expectations of from the start. Others didn’t surprise me at all.

Today is just a lonely day. That’s all.

I have an associate who claims he is a sex addict. At first, I was like, yeah, right, you horn dog. However, the better I’ve gotten to know him, I’m not so sure he’s off point. And I was a born skeptic at first.

I looked up the following questionnaire at Sex Addicts Anonymous:

A Useful Tool for Self-Assessment

Answer these twelve questions to assess whether you may have a problem with sexual addiction.

1. Do you keep secrets about your sexual or romantic activities from those important to you? Do you lead a double life?
He does.

2. Have your needs driven you to have sex in places or situations or with people you would not normally choose?
Would one consider outdoors on the side of a road with cars passing by a “normal” place?

3. Do you find yourself looking for sexually arousing articles or scenes in newspapers, magazines, or other media?
Does an internet webcam count for this?

4. Do you find that romantic or sexual fantasies interfere with your relationships or are preventing you from facing problems?
What if he can’t complete a whole conversation without referencing his fantasies?

5. Do you frequently want to get away from a sex partner after having sex? Do you frequently feel remorse, shame, or guilt after a sexual encounter?
Naw, he’s conditioned himself to not feel guilt but to accept his vice, as horrible as he says it is.

6. Do you feel shame about your body or your sexuality, such that you avoid touching your body or engaging in sexual relationships? Do you fear that you have no sexual feelings, that you are asexual?
He has no problems touching his body and does it often.

7. Does each new relationship continue to have the same destructive patterns which prompted you to leave the last relationship?
He seems to be living his life on repeat of stupidity.

8. Is it taking more variety and frequency of sexual and romantic activities than previously to bring the same levels of excitement and relief?
From what I’ve learned, this does seem to be the case.

9. Have you ever been arrested or are you in danger of being arrested because of your practices of voyeurism, exhibitionism, prostitution, sex with minors, indecent phone calls, etc.?
I don’t think so but don’t really know about this one.

10. Does your pursuit of sex or romantic relationships interfere with your spiritual beliefs or development?
I would think so because dude is a professed Christian who thinks he’d be “perfect” were it not for his vice.

11. Do your sexual activities include the risk, threat, or reality of disease, pregnancy, coercion, or violence?
The reality of children exists and based on sheer numbers alone I don’t doubt he’s at some point had a disease.

12. Has your sexual or romantic behavior ever left you feeling hopeless, alienated from others, or suicidal?
I think he’d have to say yes to this.

If you answered yes to more than one of these questions, we would encourage you to seek out additional literature as a resource or to attend a Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting to further assess your needs.

Dude could easily answer “yes” to over 50% of these questions, but he would have problems differentiating what constitutes an “indecent” phone call as in #9. He sometimes thinks that everyone is into what he’s into and at other times acknowledges the problems that his urges call him. If someone so much as suggests sex (someone who piques his interest), he is off and running like a dog in heat. It’s ridiculous. His brain goes into auto-pilot, and if he could have sex for about eight hours straight a day, he would. He’s even admitted that sometimes he wishes he could kill himself and that if he had one more child he would. Now, I don’t know if he’s serious or if that’s just talk because a lot of times I’ve found that a person can’t take half the stuff that comes out of his mouth seriously, but I’m sure he’ll be the provider of much more blog fodder.

As background, I will add that he was molested at the age of ten although he doesn’t see it that way. He just believes he had an early interest in sex with the babysitter. Okay, could be, but I believe that has some bearing on his current situation.

So, what say you? Do you believe sex addiction is real? Do you know any sex addicts? If you believe it’s real, do you believe it’s treatable? Would you leave someone with this problem alone with your teenage or young adult child or relative?

I’m moving. It’s official in my heart and my head. It is what I want to do, and I’m preparing for it, at least making arrangements for my place here. Other than that, I don’t have a clear plan as far as anyone else can see. No g’s stashed away. No Plan C through Z. Folks are concerned that I haven’t put in applications in my current field. They look at me like I’m crazy when I say I may not want to do “this” anymore. Ok. I understand their points. I want to quit a job and move in a recession when most places have a hiring freeze. I understand. Really, I do. Sounds insane. Well, that is why I want to move–so I won’t go insane. Seems like a decent trade-off to me.

Can I tell you the truth? I know you won’t tell anyone. Ha! You don’t even know me, not really, so who cares if you tell. Ready? Here goes.

What I really want to do is be a bum. No—just kidding. Jokes, man! Jokes!! I really want to spend some time working on my dad’s building where he housed his business and get it up to code so it can serve as a community center and source of income. Now, where will I get the money to do this? I don’t know, but that is what I want to do. I am willing to invest sweat equity myself. Ideally, I would have my mother’s support, but I never do unless it’s for something practical, clearly planned, logical, a clear shot. Mom plays it safe–always has. I’m not afraid of risks, and really, what do I have to lose?

If I can square up things here, that’s the bulk of my expense right there. I just don’t know how long Mom will let me stay with her in “our” house without a 9 to 5. She’s from the stay on a job for 20 years generation. I know I may never get rich, but I would like to do something that I want to do. There was a time when I wanted to do what I’m doing now. That time has passed, and I want to do something else, or at least something else in addition to it. What’s wrong with that? Nothing.

This may be career suicide, but I’m in “survival of me” mode. Who can challenge that, and who cares if they do? I don’t talk a good Bohemian game. I’ve always lived it. I’m just an educated Bohemian not high on drugs who seems to think she can live off of her art and the work of her hands. I garden, quilt, paint, write, sing, do hair, cook, play instruments, and almost anything else artistic. My name does mean artful. Why can’t I do what I do and be happy? I’m willing to take a chance and find out, and I’m really glad I don’t have a husband right now to force me to be “average” or “normal” as some define it. Combining my life with someone else’s will require a careful balancing act that does not clip the wings of my independence and creative desires. *sigh*

I’ve moved several times (well, a lot of times actually) in my life, and I never have a clear will-work-for-certain plan. I just trust my gut and my God, and they have never led me wrong. That doesn’t mean the road is always easy, but no road I take will be. That’s just the nature of the game. What I know for sure? It’s time to change the game. A game changer is what I am.

Wish me well!