Walking through the feeling to get to the healing…

hands

He walks through the pain, sometimes feeling lost

Just when he thought it was conquered, suddenly there’s a new cost

I cannot take away the hurt that’s built up for years inside

How beautiful today, as he faces it instead of running somewhere to hide

I’ve walked a similar path, just a little bit farther ahead

Today we are parallel, yet he still finds so much to dread

I assure him he’s safe, in my arms he feels free

Vulnerable at last, a place to just be

Our journey on this earth isn’t meant to travel alone

I pray that through his trials the truth is always shown

Words have little meaning, even when spoken very clear

It’s the actions that show proof to the one who cries in fear

To speak the Word to a non believer who feels so torn apart

It’s difficult to assure him, the Lord is deep within his heart

The pain that is felt from the shifting around

That’s proof that God is working within, He just never makes a sound

No one could tell me, I had to come to believe for myself

I am a soul worth crying for, not to be stuffed upon some shelf

If God brought me to it

He will get me through it

A gift I wish I could convince him of

That he too is worthy of the abundance of love

 mending heart

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Again with this annoyance…

definition of PMS

Weren’t you just here last month???

I thought I would Google “PMS” images this fine morning. I came across this one that took the BSC out of my head simply because of the extremes I can be inflicted with. Lately, since I upped my fitness program to a higher intensity, I must say I have less symptoms of the dreaded shark week. However, the sensitivity part is in full swing.

I emailed the Captain both of these images along with a personal message asking if my temperament is good with him though? I am nervously awaiting his response. That sensitivity button is pushed and stuck in the on position with no end in sight. That’s just my reality for the moment.

As my grandma and likely her mother so eloquently deemed it, “the curse” I have always been able to relate to that term.

‘Curse’-defined: noun ‘A solemn utterance intended to invoke a supernatural power to inflict harm or punishment on someone or something’ hmmm what a horrific analogy.

Another beautiful activity I know diminishes most of the potential core symptoms is, multiple O’s during a lot of great sex. Gratefully, the Captain is more aware of my up and coming shark week than I and is only happy to oblige. That is, provided the ratio stays in his favor. (by my insistence) I know I have shared on this topic recently, but can I help it if it tends to come back around the mountain like clock work? ugh~

When I read this one I honestly did not see the ‘n’ in men. Subliminal perhaps?

(obviously created by a hard-core PMS~ing feminist)

It ought to read “P.M.S. PUNISH ME SEVERELY”

even better!

Rant over…till next month. Until then, happy shark hunting!

with God, all things are possible…

GodsHands

He waited patiently for my cooperation~

             Growing Up As I Learn To Do It Different~

          Sometimes when I choose, I later find

  Maybe I settled, for what I couldn’t picture in my mind

Each day I go on,

pretending and ignoring what’s really inside

My life keeps me busy denial keeps me safe

in a secret place to hide

One day a simple glimpse in the mirror

Not recognizing the image that I see

Twenty years has gone by filled with memories

Yet still something feels empty maybe it’s me

I begin to reflect and wonder what if

I know about regret or so I’ve been told

It’s only good for wallowing just not to hold

So why this hole as I stand here and stare

It begins to grow becoming uncomfortable to me

I can’t ignore it very much longer of this I am aware

So much to consider while I take a long look

Can I really do things different

am I allowed to make a change

If things truly aren’t working it’s time to rearrange

Others always came first for all these past years

I’ve learned some things are worth crying over

I won’t waste any more precious tears

With courage and faith I choose to move on

Through love, support and wisdom

I will continue to grow strong…

He is not to be challenged…

cropped-next-chapter-2.jpg

be accountable, take responsibility of one’s own life, achieve emotional maturity…

I will be the first one to admit my part in the demise of my 18 year, broken marriage some 6 years ago. After all, even I played a 5% role in the spiral down. The only way I was able to find relief from the burden of guilt, was to accept that I had even a small part. Here is where I get to share that my ex-husband’s contribution was found at the bottom of any bottle. This is not to evoke a round of “aww’s”, just merely painting the picture for a clearer understanding. The infamous, “blame and shame game” is over.

I have worked through many years of self discovery to find a more complete, healthier me just waiting to be revealed. I thought I would never know the girl who was waiting inside to come out. I spent so many years fighting against everything I grew up watching, especially the learned behavior that was inflicted upon me. It had such negative affects on me that I acted as a bitter feminist on the outside, while the feminine young lady was screaming to get out.

Everything in my life was spinning out of control. My only device and illusion, was a meager attempt to control  my own environment. This is “my part” of which I mentioned. I challenged the father of my children on every turn. I had no respect for him as a man, nor did I have confidence in his role as leader. The results for this already beta male, was to step back (and down) surrender to the idea of his wife, the mom, to take charge. It disgusts me now to think of it, but it was what it was. The lessons far outweigh the regrets for I am a better woman having walked through them.

Fast forward to today…I can now see the maturity and confidence I have gained from my life experiences. The facade of that feminist, thankfully died as I came into my true self by surrendering that old stinkin’ thinkin’. It no longer serves a purpose in my life.

Lately, as Captain and I interact, I have been taking stock in my inner feelings. I realized that when he speaks in his stern, directive way, I make an honest attempt to listen intently. Though sometimes it needs repeating (oh how he despises that). I know that when I ask for him to restate his words, it is a huge trigger from his past. (not being heard or listened to) I would never consider challenging him. Don’t get me wrong, I have not turned into a mindless drone, I simply know that while I have a voice, his word is final.

All of these ramblings I put out here are instrumental in my positive, mental health. The unveiling of my personal struggles along with my successes, help me to see my own progress. The only options for me today are, I get to glance back without staring, but I must move forever forward. My journey thus far does not define me, however it has built my character. I am a blessed lady~thank you God!

On the lighter, celebratory side…

birthday candles 

Happy Birthday My Captain~

Birthdays come and birthdays go, it’s the memories that are created in the accompaniment as they arrive. When I was little my birthday meant presents, best friends, cake and more presents. Why was that the highlight of this one day of the year? My mom made every birthday special because it reminded her how much she loved me on the day I was born. Wow, at 19 as she was, for a young lady to be able to give that much to a tiny little person is amazing. I never once didn’t think or feel that my mom didn’t love me.

Tomorrow is Captain’s birthday, a big one in his eyes. I tell him he is ## years young, sexier than ever and a beautiful sight to see. Last year at this time he was walking through some painful stuff and that memory is somewhat overlapping into this year. Try as I may to distract him and create new wonderful memories for him, he said, “next year will be better”. While I respect that and give him what he needs, I will carry on, act as if and celebrate as best I know how to make him feel like the most special man in the universe. After all, he is to me.

A month or so back, he was making yet another fabulous dinner and he casually mentioned something he’d like in the kitchen. I took a mental note and it arrived in the mail the other day. Then a few weeks ago, he shared an old photo that he had intended to frame for years now. In a competitive man’s world, such as he lives in, this photo is the equivalence to a girl in her wedding gown. Another mental note and  sneaking it out of the house, it is now professionally and beautifully framed. Both stashed in the house awaiting the perfect moment to reveal the wrapped gifts for him to unveil.

I finally understand the receiving truly is in the giving as the anticipation mounts. I cannot wait to see his handsome face when I present him with his gifts that I am taking such pride in with my originality. I shared what I did with a friend and the reaction was, how awesome that I really listened and acted on what will mean so much to him.

A birthday is supposed to be so special because it is the day you graced the world and blessed your parents by simply being born. It saddens me for those who would just as soon let it be merely another day because they didn’t have the mom I did.

baby boy angel Your existence is precious…

It’s the sweat on my back and pain in my body that keeps me going…

press on        My mantra for fitness…

Just yesterday I told the trainer of the day that she was my pace car. She replied, “or maybe you are mine.” We finished a tough, grueling, tiresome workout within .09 seconds of each other. Funny, this picture is what I said to her on our 5th RFT (round for time). It’s not about the time, it’s about finishing, right? She concurred.

Lately I have become borderline obsessed with my cross-fit training. Partly because the Captain pushes me when I want to back out, but mostly because I love how I feel when it’s over. Yesterday Captain sent me a quote/picture that says, “skinny girls look good in clothes, fit girls look good naked”. I am sure that one is floating around the manosphere. I told him I hope that was a good message for me from him. His reply,”I wouldn’t have sent it if not”. Okay, I accept that.

I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me lately, but the wheel is spinning and I see no way off except to fling myself off and pray for a soft but firm landing. Captain is going through some old crap of emotions and needs time to sit with it, walk through it, and come out the other side better for it. I, however, am being a “pain in his ass” and not only is he aware of it, so am I.

This is what injects me with the need to step up my fitness for my core and mental stability. I definitely feel my usually balanced triangle slightly obtuse in form. I come across as needy and whiny, rather revolting I must say. This is not the confident lady I portray these days. Certainly not the one Captain became attracted to in the first place. He told me he “understands this old crap of behavior and where it stems from, but to just knock it off!” Ugh, if only it were that simple.

Well, as always, I had a grand epiphany a few moments ago. I know how I got off-balance, ONEITIS strikes again! I understand myself enough to realize this is a very old pattern of mine, but still it rears its ugly head when I get too comfortable. The difference for me today is that I have a well-rounded, somewhat balanced life. I know that my happiness is my responsibility. So why do I get dependent on that ONE? hmmm…

I have my own business with independent contractors to assist in running it. My life is my own as well as my time, which I take advantage of by taking great care of me! Something I never considered before. I have friends that I don’t really hang out with so much, but we text and have an occasional lunch or “girls night”. (consists of dinner, cocktails, laughing while ignoring the blatant meat stares around us) Realization; I have reached that age and stage in my life where I am content with spending more time with Captain.

How does this tie together with what I started writing about and then landed here? I don’t have a solid answer other than, the freakin’ wheel goes round and round…No wonder the Captain says I am being a pain his ass lately. Gratefully I don’t share his sentiments when he is literally in mine. A whole other blog in itself!

The clubhouse…

little rascals there’s something to be said for this…

I don’t know what it was when I was little, but all I ever wanted to do was play like the boys. Maybe because I had two brothers. Perhaps I secretly wanted to know what made them tick or how they were wired. I was not a tomboy by any means, but I could toss the football, throw a baseball, played a mean fullback in soccer and raced on the swim team. All the while playing barbies, wearing dresses, not by choice, dabbled in makeup and wore mama’s high, high heels around the house.

At that young age, the boys tolerated me because they were my big brother’s friends. Then sometime in junior high boys started acting mean to me. Not all of them mind you, but the ones that obviously “liked” me. That’s the message I was told when one, Kevin something or other, left a stuffed animal (raccoon, I believe) on my doorstep and when I returned it to him, because I liked Gilbert, something or other, he punched me in the eye. I think that meant he wanted to marry me!

What was happening to me, I began to wonder. I watched my only three female role models, whom I loved and adored, (mom, aunt and grandma) interact with the men in their lives. I took mental notes and kept them etched on my brain as I grew up.

Mom was a beautiful teenager when she had my big brother and me. She even married dad, then divorced him when I was two. (abandonment issues begin) Grandma was a loving, doting wife. I wouldn’t classify her as feminist, but she teetered on the brink of it. Then there was my aunt, whom back then referred to themselves as stewardesses, a waitress in the sky. She took pride in her, “coffee, tea or me” oozing with sex attitude, but to you men, don’t you dare cross her! I think she is on her fourth marriage today, but who’s counting?

So what was this young girl to do? I looked to these three beautiful women and entered into my teenage years, loved by them all yet untrained and floundering. See, by 7 mom had remarried the asshole of the year, decade, no, lets just make that the century and call it good. By 10, they had a beautiful baby boy, a new little brother whom I absolutely love.  Who knew my mom’s drinking would become an addiction by my 13th birthday and I would continue to grow up learning, through observation and media dictation, about expectations on growing up female.

Next that left grandma for me to continue observing with a watchful eye. I adored my grandpa and thought they were the epitome of love and commitment. They’ve been gone awhile now, but I still hold that vision close to my heart. That may not be the reality, but who am I to mess with it. I’ll leave it where it is, framed in a golden heart forever.

So by now my aunt appears to be the coolest chick on the planet to any young teen girl. How could she not? She was what all the magazines and t.v. commercials told me I needed to resemble and since I had my very own live Barbie doll with an attitude to look up to, that’s just what I did.

Back to my mom for a moment. I loved her with all my heart. We were as close as any mother and daughter could be, until that abusive man continued to ruin the most beautiful lady I had ever known. Today I can look back and sort of realize his frustration with her alcoholism, but I truly loathe that man, so no compassion goes to him. Mom only lived until the age of 41. The year that followed was the most difficult year of my life. That story is another blog all in itself. One worth taking my time on…

By the time I was 20, I met the “man” I would marry, have three sons with and seven years ago, happily divorce. Yes, I quit trying to hang out in the boys clubhouse long before that, but I still tried to figure out their hard wiring. Because of my own fucked up messages from my childhood and lack of direction on how to be a lady, wife or straight up female, I had to wing it. Sex was my best tool and the only means possible, so I thought, to entice and keep a man. Who knew they would come and go as they please regardless. Huh…

Some would say I was blessed with a “pretty face” and a decent body, that I literally work my ass off for today. After all, that is what society has always told me, that the only thing that mattered was how the garden looked, not how rich the soil is.

The message yet again, I didn’t need to work hard, get a higher education and be self-supporting, so I could boost my own confidence and self-esteem. A man would be all I needed to do that for me. That was the hardest, bluest pill = (blissful ignorance of illusion) I ever swallowed.

I was always caught between wanting an alpha and being cursed with a beta. Problem was, I didn’t recognize it when they were served up on a piping hot platter of  bullshit and false bravado. They were all the same to me. One day I thought, maybe it was the broken parts of me all along. This is not a self-pity thing, more of facing my own reality checkpoint. How much of my upbringing and misguided learning had I brought to the table in my relationships loaded with expectations that when they weren’t met, I would raise the bar. How many hoops will he jump through? Gross, revolt, YUK!! REBUKE!!

This epiphany did not emerge over night. It took several flushes of the blue pill and many refills of the red pill = (embracing the sometimes painful truth of reality) to embark on this beautiful transformation I have willingly entered into. I thank God for recovery of self discovery. I have learned about the true nature of submission, obedience and respect. The gifts that dove tail are adoration, honor and love.

Sometimes there is just a lot inside this girly brain when she has two claws on the wheel and two dug into the ground and the only way to climb back down is to rant!

no girls... there’s a reason for this sign…RESPECT IT!

My body, my responsibility, my results…

core~unknown

When Captain first asked me last year if I was ready to step outside my comfort zone (referring to my fitness plan) and try something new, being the obedient F.O., my first initial response was, of course! He explained what he was thinking and had looked into. This is a man who has always been into fitness and active, but only until the recent swallowing of the bitter red pill, did he truly make a commitment. He upped his gym time and somewhat hit a plateau when he discovered a new hardcore gym. He took on the trial and the prerequisite 8 day training course, dabbled a bit, but never fully committed. After my quick, “yes” (because you gals out there know how much we aim to please with full respect) I came up with excuse number one, let me finish school first, then can we revisit it? Yes, three months later, I earned my first degree and graduated. Honestly, I hadn’t thought about his offer on the table since.

One day he went to the old gym, nothing new about that, then said he had signed up for the new one as well. My reaction, as if I had the right to have one was, without me? Whiner, yuk. Being the awesome Captain that he is, replied, “it’s not my job to drag you through. I told you once”. Ouch! He’s right. My body is my responsibility. His is to push me and lead me, but he cannot do it for me.  So he handled signing me up for my training part and now I too was committed.

It has been two months and I am a little more faithful than he is about going, but in all fairness, Captain does have a lot more on his platter than I do on my saucer. He is in incredible shape and his strength is undeniably sexy! Every time I go (three times per week/did I mention hardcore because more might kill me, for now) I text him my PR and he does the same for me. At first, I was all girly brained about it, ah can’t we go together? blah blah blah…It’s hard enough with the men trainers pushing me. If he came to the same session, I’d be worried about what he is thinking, I need to work harder, faster, lift more, checking my form etc…this way he encourages and supports me by hearing my results. It is definitely an exciting commonality we can share and support each other in. The results are amazing and the perks even better.

Today, was not such a difficult workout (no feeling of the puks), but the trainer pushed me as the Captain would (made me wonder if they were in cahoots) heavier weights, more reps. While I always leave and later feel the good soreness from an awesome workout, the gracious praises I was given by Captain made it all worth it! He has pride in me and it shows. He tells me how sexy I am and that it makes him happy when I work hard on my body, for me as well as for him.

It was easy in the past to be that slump who made lame excuses why I didn’t take better care of myself. Lack of time, no energy, kid’s demands on my time…yea yea. I went back to school, became sole proprietor of my business and now my time is my own. (excuse slaughtered) I now have more sexual energy than I ever thought imaginable. Having the sexiest Captain wanting and taking me daily, sometimes 2 or even 3 times, keeps me on track. (another excuse death) The third and final son graduates high school tomorrow…(out of excuses).

Thank you to my Captain for pushing me “to discover that the person that I thought I was is no match for the one I really am”. I adore you!

Surrender to it all…

obey.jpg

It’s funny where I find my inspiration to write. I don’t necessarily put everything into this particular blog, but eventually I imagine it will appear here.

I’ve been really thinking about this word, “obedience”  lately. Once upon a time this word eluded my vocabulary. I would have to peg that to the asshole step father I grew up despising. His meek attempts to control and rule the family were nowhere near being a leader, but rather a bully that was just short of beating us into submission.

So, as it turns out, I married the opposite, a BETA through and through! I figured I would be safe in this choice and would never be subjected to cruel, overt, male behavior ever again. What I didn’t know way back then, is how much I would loathe this behavior too.

The results were, I became an alpha/beta type female, disguised as a feminist with my insides screaming out, I want to be a feminine girl, that longs to be taken care of and adored! Won’t someone just let me?! Truth be told, after my divorce from an 18 year marriage 7 years ago, I wouldn’t allow any man close enough to give them the opportunity. Fear was the driving force, invisible was my stance. Sure, I dated a petite handful of…’men’, only to find again and again, one extreme or the other. YUK~

One day this handsome man crossed my path, me being me, skeptical and playing the invisible card still, chose not to notice the attention he was blatantly pouring over me. Over the next several months, this man continued to show up in my life. I wasn’t being a bitch by any means, in fact, that is just not in my nature. I simply was scared. With this “broken picker” I had deemed myself to possess, I made feeble attempts to ward him off, keep him at arm’s length all the while I was becoming attracted to him and his charm.

Less than 3 months had gone by and I found myself asking him to coffee and then saying yes to dinner. We became fast friends, another foreign concept to me that I would find out later, is ALWAYS a pretense to the man just wanting to get laid. No one could ever consider me a prude by any means, but at this time in my life, I had come to the realization that my old ways to “get a guy” was to immediately screw him and there I went, lost forever. Pathetic!

After a year of back and forth in our dating cycle, we both realized how close we truly were becoming. It was refreshing yet at the same time, scaring the hell out of me. I think it was having the same effect on him as he was still attempting to escape the wrath of his past hamster, forever shit testing, long-term bitch companion that continued to have power over him. It was painful to watch, but one day, he choked and swallowed the little red pill, and his manhood has never been the same.

That was nearly a year ago and since that time, he had led me down the same path as a true alpha does. I willingly swallowed the little red pill, in fact I have a lifetime prescription!  It was exactly what I had been starving for since I was a little girl. I had watched with a distorted view, my grandma and mom muddle through their lives confused by who had the penis in the house and then wondered why they were frustrated when they tried to make most of the decisions. Hmmmm….

So back to the word at hand, “obedience”…’the act or practice of following instructions, complying with rules or regulations, or submitting to somebody’s authority’. Who knew that once I embraced not only the word, but the act itself, my life would begin to make sense. I’ll tell you who knew, God. Clearly He sent the Captain of my life to me to straighten up my thinking and show me what respecting the Captain births for his F.O.

Captain has taught me so much through his actions from his reborn Alpha male ways. His stance is tall and proud while his frame never falters. In fact, he is so stern with me, I wouldn’t dare be anything short of submissive and obedient. I welcome his reprimanding, whatever form he sees fit.