Foreplay

I would like to introduce two ideas here. First of all, the idea of foreplay and its relationship to me getting anything done at all. Secondly, man I have been whipped, like I just gave birth to my ten and eleven pound babies through my vagina with out medicine, whipped.

{Asshole I was}

It has been a long couple of months. The past couple of weeks have presented copious amounts of words in my head. Unfortunately – they are just that. In my head. Bouncing around, past, present and future jumbled amongst an increasing need to run the fuck away. The onslaught of love and support from my last two pieces was pleasantly overwhelming and made the exhausting nature of those words wholeheartedly worthwhile. Surprising myself mostly; I still haven’t had it in me to sit down and type coherently.

What I am proposing is a little foreplay. You know – get things moving around properly again (sort of). Essentially I’d like you to get to know me better. Why not? We’ve come this far.

It really is important for me to let you know how honored I am to have you reading my words. They are often way out of control along with my feelings, I do like to repress, deny and live in LaLaLand until I get them down in order. For me it is an amazing sense of relief. Having them stacked neatly in paragraphs, looking all neat and pretty. Miss Carry always creates art to go with my essays and stories, she makes it beautiful aesthetically and my blog and website are a reminder that I am doing all this for a reason. It’s all good.

My kids are back in school today after a long February vacation. The Boy was getting bored with his tactical planning and physical training for self and family defense. I am sure he was relieved a little to not have to do three hours of random physical challenges today. The Girl, who is presently obsessed with earning all A’s was beginning to spiral down last night and completely lost it first thing this morning.

{I don’t blame her}

It is often hard to watch and can challenge my motherly patience though and I try not to encourage the drama too much. She is a very bright and pretty girl. She is quite confident by nature but has been challenged by others this whole school year so far. It is starting to tire her out a bit. During vacation she was presented with some cyber-bullying from the girls who bully her at school. Only this time a girl was involved who was supposed to be her friend. Long story short for now is; we are using it as a teaching/learning opportunity. I will continue to protect my daughter. I will remind her how proud I am of her, how much her father and I both love her. She deserves it and it is what my mother did for me. We need to do the best we can for our kids.

Some days, many days quite frankly, I cry to myself  feeling like I am not doing enough for my kids. I feel the pressure to stay in the house and cater to their every need. I can’t and really don’t want to do that, I just feel guilty for not wanting to. I have to let go of all the outside and most often superficial bullshit this region throws at me and just know its enough to feed them and love them and be the woman who is their mother.

Early in the month, I was surprised with an invitation to Washington D.C. The girls from Yourweedgirls.blogspot.com asked me to come down for an interview. Cheryl found my blog through Twitter and was interested in my story. I was out of my mind with excitement, anticipation, fear and seriously imposing self-doubt. It wasn’t them I was afraid of. They could not have been more gracious! Miss Carry was in all business mode which is very comforting to my spazzy boundary-obsessed mind. Every bit of professionalism I know to be her strength, shined like a star; just as I knew it would. We make a good team.

{Thank you sweet Jesus mermaid goddess of the sea}

Cheryl, Taylor and Crystal are three refreshingly young urban girls with different stories, different lives and generations. What we all shared was a need to have voices and identity in a world that so often judges us all on age, race, gender and economic status.

How about a bunch of really cool smart women chilling out, smoking pot and talking about the real world? It was fucking awesome! Please check out their website, Miss Carry and I will hopefully be attending a party of theirs on 4/20 of course.

{I usually don’t actually go inside of a party but I’ll be sure to let you know all about the fun on the perimeter}

My husband and I are having some growing pains. I often feel like I have him trapped somewhere he really loves being. It sounds screwy because it is. I really need the space to recover from some issues in our marriage and I absolutely am terrified of him leaving. He needs space too, but is very comfortable in this life he’s created and he loves me and the kids so much.  Construction on our upstairs unit that he will reside in is in its beginning phase.

{Maybe a new chapter soon. I have no idea}

What I do know is that I am afraid. I am often depressed over my love life these days. Not in such a self-pity way – more of a disclosure and looking at reality way. Some acceptance and hope for recovery. I love my husband (we are separated) I also love my ex husband, TripleEx, who I see frequently – he is in financial crisis and recently suffered some giant losses over the past year. He also has his own big set of physical issues that is really getting in the way of us having much sex at all.

Quite frankly I need to have sex a whole bunch with him. He set a three times a day bar for twenty years. I went without sex in my marriage for six long fucking years and do not find it acceptable at all anymore. I am kind of jerky to him about it and I need to figure it out.

{That’s my problem,  Obviously}

My eighty seven year old mother-in-law lives downstairs. She is starting to have more health problems. The brother-in-law that lives with her against her will and helps care for her;  is in his own world of drugs, disease and physical pain, so he currently is in Costa Rica with his family trying to recover. Leaving her and us to notice she can’t be alone very much anymore.

My sister and I are still at odds and I am sure will be for quite some time. It weighs heavily on my heart. I will have to assume it is essential for growth? I really have no idea and honestly just try to do the next right thing in the situation as it presents itself.

Lastly and most troublesome is my emotional state of recovery, my ongoing issues with my eating disorder, my challenge of not picking up a drink and trying to self medicate that is ever-present and omnipotent.  Over the past six months I have been becoming more mania charged and often left after days of nonsense and risky behavior;in states of confusion, despair and darkness that revolves around self-mutilation, that I haven’t been indulging in.

I have been seeing my therapist that I wholeheartedly trust on a weekly basis–after six years of beating around the bush. I also have recently started seeing a new Psychopharmicolgist and Psychiatrist to try to more positively identify and label some of these issues that are invading my last shreds of hope for some peace of mind. It is taking a big commitment from me and as I was too obstinate to get off the couch last night to take the piddly pill prescribed; it’s a long road. It took years to get this deep inside the forest. I am accepting that two months of intense-for-a-non-talker therapy is really only the tip of the beginning, and I am not allowing my fears to take over.

{Change really is a motherfucker}

I continue to get major encouragement and love from strangers. I have been challenging myself to let them see some more of me – happily they are sticking around. Part of living authentically for me is allowing myself to love others again.

{Not sexually. Just love}

I really do love people and I have been learning so much through my relationships with some strong, brave and often hilarious people on Twitter. The interactions and relationships are slow and take a long time and it is perfect for me and my insane set of rules in my head. Even the ones I don’t speak to or don’t speak to me; touch me with some amazing piece of themselves on a daily basis. Working through recovery and writing my stories in this forum is a major and full-time part of my life right now along with my other full-time responsibilities. Though I have been delegating some of the daily to-do list to my husband for the past year.

It has to be shared or I simply won’t continue to thrive. I post random thoughts about my life, love, recovery, sex and hope publicly on Twitter. I use it for a place to bounce my twisted humor that most don’t get and often don’t appreciate. The dreamy theatrical play on words that so many do on a public social media venue gives me such joy.

I am truly grateful to my eggs for their patience and mostly encouragement for me to continue to grow as a woman, mother and friend.

That felt a little like foreplay to me, not too much and I am a little wet and tingly for getting something down and on the screen.  Everyday it is a beginning. I now have permission to be an asshole to myself for the rest of the day because I got this done. Pressing send is the climax. Not multiple, like I said – it’s only the beginning. xxx

Copyright © 2011-2012. Eggs.Smoke.Sex. All rights reserved.

Words and images on this blog are copyrighted and not to be reproduced in any way without my express permission in writing. Please contact me with any queries at cognitive-ly@live.com

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2 thoughts on “Foreplay

  1. Hi Eggs!

    The title caught my attention for obvious reasons. I’ve always associated Foreplay with everything leading up to and including physical contact. The pressure builds even when nothings being stirred.

    I watched the interview you had with the 4/20 women, and my conclusion is that nobody is ever completely like we imagine them. It’s nice to have you some fans, isn’t it? Nothing makes my ego soar like people validating me and I couldn’t help smiling for you as they gushed their appreciation. Good stuff~thanks as always, for sharing.

  2. I should probably have started here, but it was long, and my boss was in the hall outside my office, so I was like. . . okay, maybe I’ll look for a quickie (blogwise, that is) and so I looked and registered (1) blog in February. . . fine fine. . . what did she write in January. . . and of course THAT caught my eye, which was not a quickie at all, but sort of compelled me to read it. I mean, my oldest daughter is 10 (in three weeks) and your story is the story that has me awake at night as a father.

    So I read that, and thought. . . well, now I’ve stared right into her soul for godsake and there wasn’t even any foreplay, and that, of course, led me back to THIS post, which is LABELED foreplay. . . and the acknowledgement that “I’m doing it wrong”.

    Hard story to write (the previous couple blogs, not this one). . . I personally have a tough time writing about sad things or traumatic things. . . but I also think that when I do. . . it’s cathartic. Hopefully it was for you too.

    I like your writing. And you don’t seem to pull many punches or censor too much of yourself. . . and that makes it real and visceral and compelling.

    So then. . . carry on. *copies and pastes address into reader*

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