The Butterfly Temptress

When Helen left this comment the other day, it made me stop and think.

One thing I learned a long time ago, marriage is a decision that has to be made every day, and after every fight. The fights are going to be there whether you want them to or not. What you can control is whether or not YOU will be there when they’re over. You’ve got something good, and you make the decision to hang in there. That’s what matters.

After writing yesterday and spending time feeling sorry for myself while The Knight was downtown, I was primed and ready for a fight. When he walked in and didn’t immediately give me what I thought he ought to, that was that. I fought against it but it drove me insane. When it bothers me and when it hurts, I have to say something. I had reached that place, so I opened my mouth.

I wasn’t pissy and I wasn’t a total bitch. I simply told him how I felt. I used all the effective communication tools I could remember and took a deep breath when all I really wanted to do was defend myself. Then I listened to what he had to say, which led to him listening to what I had to say.

When it was all said and done, we both breathed a sigh of relief. It felt like we had actually made a little bit of progress. Not a lot, but it was progress. And before leaving the living room, we gave that progress the acknowledgement it deserved, something that neither of us do.

I have a lot of work to do. I do have a problem letting the bullshit go. He has a problem accepting he has any bullshit. He has a lot of work to do. Still, we were able to admit that we love one another and we’d be miserable apart. Then we promised to keep trying to get it right. And I told him that I called him a stupid boy because he hurt me. His response? He’s a stupid boy but I’m a dumb girl so we must be just fine together. I couldn’t deny it. Right about then I did feel pretty dumb.

(And Terry, you were right. This is not the time to be making any life changing decisions. We have enough to deal with as it is. What a wise sister you are!)

The Knight told me to stop trying so hard to please him and start pleasing myself. He siad that when I’m happy and loving being me that he is happier than ever. He said it had nothing to do with negating the D/s aspect of us, rather it was about practicing good self-care.(I have always had a problem with it. I don’t know what that means, exactly, and when I stumble upon it it just feels weird, like I’m being selfish and it feels so wrong!) So, I’m supposed to be thinking about it and sharing ideas with him. Which is harder than the list of fifty things I like about myself that he made me write. It took me a week to complete! Still, I’m going to try.

We turned out the lights and headed upstairs. He always walks behind me so he can catch me if I start to fall and he always comments on my fabulous ass (his words, not mine). He closed the door behind us and pressed his body against mine then whispered that I did it for him, that there is no one else in the world he wants, that no one in the world could replace me. Then he proceeded to make love to me so slowly, so completely that it took me by surprise and my heart overflowed just as the tears fell.

It’s an everyday decision, that’s the everyday reality for this dumb girl and her stupid boy.

It’s always easier to stay where you are than it is to move forward. It’s comfortable and it’s familiar and it doesn’t involve looking outside yourself for very long to know that where you are is just fine. Still, sometimes it isn’t.

Sometimes it’s hard and it’s scary. It’s just as painful to stay as it is to step out of the comfort zone and do something different. You feel that you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t.

And this is where I am. But is this where I want to stay? What’s the line from Peter Pan about forever being an awfully long time? Well, it is. even when you’re faced with the possibility that you might never really know how long forever really is, it just sounds like forever.

Next month is the beginning of a new clinical trial that I will be part of, thanks to my oncologist. So long facing death, playing chicken with the train and suddenly there is…what? Hope? Not so much. A holding pattern? At best.

Our marriage? It depends on the day. According to him, it’s a roll of the dice or a flip of the coin that decides. I know it’s his indifference on the days he works downtown that conflicts with his tenderness and focus when he’s home with me. I know it’s the little lies that make no sense or the constant remarks about my accent or my mental stability that leave me cold. Gone are the hopes, dreams and plans because if he’s convinced me of nothing else, he’s convinced me that I can’t.

He asks me why I stay and finally I have no answer. Love? Sure. I love him more than life itself. That’s why I’m still here. Happiness? Not so much. That’s why I find myself filled with shame when I catch myself daydreaming or thinking about what if. I would be miserable, I know it.

So why am I in this place?

Because despite what he says, I can’t see that he’s happy. I can’t feel it when he says that he would be miserable without me, that he’s desperate to hold on to me. Overly sensitive me can’t feel the things he says, except for the negatives.

So I stay. I stay and I pray that today is the day that we get it right. I hope that this is the moment he walks in the door and I feel something from him again. I don’t doubt that he loves me. But sometimes love just isn’t enough. If the hope and prayers don’t work, I guess it’s time to move forward in more way than one.

Stupid boy.

I miss my Mama and my Grandma. I miss my old friends and the places we used to go. You don’t have to tell me how ridiculous it sounds for a grown woman with a life of her own to be wishing for her childhood- I already know.

Old pictures of Brian…football, wrestling, and the poem he wrote for me. A tucket stub for a concert and an amusement park. The first movie I saw in that small-town theater. I pegged my pants, layered my socks, and teased my hair before he and his father came to pick me up. Seeing him that Sunday at church with someone else. The conversation we had before her…and another before he married the other one. I felt like the girl in love with Billy in St. Elmo’s Fire with her lycra covered thighs and her doled out dollars only to be used one final time.

So many memories and so many heartaches to choose from.

Christian was a senior and interested in me. He was a geek before I realized that geeks were hot. He held my hand and I could feel his nervousness when he kissed me. The gift is still wrapped and marked with the date he gave it to me. I heard he joined the Army and served in Iraq. I still pray that he’s doing well.

None of them would recognize me now. Not with cancer and fat and barely there hair. I guess it’s for the best, better for all involved, that the past is the past. Some things are better left behind.

So I’m feeling a little nostalgic. How about a song to take you there?

Such a long night spent arguing. Fighting. Over and over the same thing, the same circle. Fear and insecurity take over and it’s a full on battle that won’t end until we’ve drawn blood. The same scars are sliced open but the tissue is more tough and harder to cut through. That’s progress I suppose.

How do you let go? How do you stop holding on to all that’s toxic once it’s been replaced by a sweet truth? Irrational fears have never been my thing. So why now, with him? Why does it happen when I am smack dab in the middle of the sweetest love I have ever known?

Lots to think about. Lots to let sink in. at least neither of us has called it quits. Even when the smoke has cleared, this is still where we want to be. We agree, it ain’t over ’til it’s over.

Early morning, before the streets outside our window fill with morning commuters or churgoers, I feel him reach for me. From a sound sleep (which are rare) I hear his call and begin to stir. Our new sheets rustle softly as he lowers the covers and grasps my nipple as he whispers in my ear his sudden need for me.

We rarely make love in the dark. He rarely reaches for me in the light of day, much less in the wee hours of the morning. I wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass us by for a few more minutes of sleep.

I pause to kiss him as I roll over and spread my legs wide in invitation. No hurry, no rush, just sweet sleepy sensuality as he strokes the small of my back. His hands linger briefly then make their way to the place where the evidence of our sexual chemistry begins to roll down my inner thighs.

One second his fingers are on my clit and the next he’s filling me with himself. A moan comes from somewhere in the dark and I barely recognize the sound of my own voice. As I teeter on the edge of release his hands flex and relax then grab at my ass almost as if he’s holding on for dear life. A stream of white hot fire deep within the velvet walls that hold him firmly and it’s over.

Minutes, maybe hours, pass with his body pinning mine to the bed as sleep keeps us from bothering with such trivial things as urination and comfortable positions. Laying close, skin on skin, enjoying the lingering effects of love and passion in the darkness of our small room is all we need. It’s more than enough. It’s everything.

It’s grey and dreary under this Pittsburgh sky, so I went searching for something to add a little light to my day. Here are a few of the things I found. If you’re having a grey day like me, here’s a quick pick me up for you too.

Back from camping with the kids- against my doctors orders- and so exhausted. I know I should have listened but The Girls had never been camping. It was one of those things I just had to do with them. I think I know now why they say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…they are so much like me! It was a long trip and I am completely work out, but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

Being in the woods on a chilly summer night with a million stars in the sky always leaves me pensive. Usually I end up reflecting, looking back on where I’ve been and thinking of the people I’ve been lucky enough to spend time with. Just before we left I found pictures that helped me on the trip down memory lane and I was so pleased to have found them. My oldest as a baby, dressed in red white and blue for her very first Independence Day celebration and family gathering. My youngest in utero at my sisters first wedding. Myself at a banquet at the age of 16 in a little black dress and Chanel platform pumps with the perfect shade of red Chanel lipstick. So many places I’ve been and so many wonderful times spent on the way there.

Life is so damn hard and there are days that we all throw our hands up in the air and wonder what it’s for. I know it. I know that very feeling all too well. Then I stop and ask myself if it gets any better. I have seen so many wondrous places and experienced some of the coolest things that most women my age would be envious. In thirty one short years I have somehow managed to squeeze in another lifetime. Deep down I know I shouldn’t be selfsih. I am so thankful for the time I’ve had and the breaths that I’ve been given, but I want more.

The seizures are more frequent now. I don’t spend hardly a second alone. Though it must drive him crazy, The Knight has been a Godsend. We have our ups and downs, our moments, but he never hesitates to see it through. Any opportunity that presents itself, he tells me that we’re fine, that we will beat this because we have something that no other couple has ever had. He holds me close and the world disappears. Even when the pain medicine fails me, when the pain takes over or I lay in his lap in the middle of a seizure that he’s sure will never end, in my heart I know he’s there. I feel it in my soul.

For now and for all time, it’s us against cancer…us against the past…us against the world.

Falling love is easy but staying in love is hard. Marrying someone is easy, staying married to them is almost impossible. Even more so when life continuously beats you down without even so much as one second of time between punches to catch your breath. Throw stepchildren, former spouses, and in-laws into the mix and even God would reach his breaking point.

Still, here we are. Teetering, balancing precariously on the edge. Once more. Always once more.

I don’t want an out. He doesn’t want an out. Yet we both run around the circle, trying to put out flames with only kerosene at our disposal. We’re one anothers peace and eachothers insanity all in one.

Still, here we are. Holding, clining. Teetering. Clutching. Going one more round in what has become (literally) the fight for our life. Just like Johnny and June.

I awoke this morning to find this beautiful song in my Inbox with anote reminding me that I am loved. I’m blessed to have amazing friends, friends that I probably don’t deserve because I can’t be a friend in return. I hope I’m forgiven.

Though The Knight says he doesn’t believe, I do. I know that his presence in my life is a gift from God and I am so unbelievably in awe of this love that we share. He’s not perfect, but he’s perfect for me.

I have been thinking a lot lately about letting go. I’ve been so tired and so unbelievably beyond words exhausted. Day after day I try to hold on and I try to fight but somewhere I am falling, failing, to get better. I’ve been thinking about letting go.

Then he holds me. Or I see my youngest baby smile. Then I wake up to his breath against my skin and his voice in my ear. Or my oldest laughs and throws her arms around me. In those moments I can’t give up. I have to fight until the bitter end.

I’ve been thinking about letting go. Giving up and giving in.

Then I see the people I love the most in the world counting on me. That’s when I know that I have to fight. For my life, for their happiness, for all time…and for our forever love.