True Colors (photography)

Feb. 1-7 - fun with photo editing

Feb. 8-14 - things I don't like about my body

Feb. 15-21 - things I love about my body.

Feb. 22-28 - ???

We are all made of so many colors. There are days when I feel black...dark...a void of too many or not enough color. Other days, I feel neon or pastel or vibrantly primary. Mostly, I feel like a rainbow, a bit of every color joined to create a swirling mix of complexity.

My marriage is similar.

Some days it seems like a watercolor with too much water, washed out and tired, soaking the paper to soggy bits. Other days, it seems like fire, licking reds and oranges. Most often, it is a soft shade of gray or blue, comfortable and inviting.

Chemistry (poetry)

I study your skin as it meets 

mine: yours - calloused, dark, and 

searching, my own - light and expectant.

Pressed together, we become one 

flesh, glued by sweat and propelled by 

energy, our contents binding together.

We are synthesis in motion,

visceral and changeable,

our properties exploding upon impact.

In your arms, I slip from solid, 

to liquid, to steam, and drip back

to the surface as something new.

Even when we part, I can still 

smell myself on your lips; the scent 

shifting subtly to fit your chemistry.

Baggage

I looked at this week's Wicked Wednesday prompt (Suitcases) and thought and thought about what kind of post I might do. Much like last week, I've sort of found myself at a creative loss. I don't know if that is because I've been sick, grieving, depressed, or just plain uninspired. Most likely, it's a combination of all...and then some.

I did receive a few emails from a reader, however, that have guided me to a related topic. Suitcases are a type of baggage, right? And we all have that...some of us a little more than others. This reader asked a few questions, made a few connections, and has inspired me to provide a bit more historical background on my marital situation, for those who need it or are interested.

Could someone PLEASE make me these socks...
and a matching sweater?

Hang on...let me grab a drink and some fuzzy socks - this might take awhile.

Alright, so I'm digging through several journals, files, and old blog entries to find a few bits and pieces to assemble this post. Bare with me, as this might feel a bit scattered.

I found a journal entry from February 2017 that lays out the "problems" of our marriage, as I saw them at the time (and still do, really):

Problem #1: Mr. D feels he is lacking something from me. My intermittent, yet long-problematic waning desire/low libido makes him feel unwanted, which, in turn, greatly affects his sense of self-worth. I understand that, after lots of counseling, I cannot MAKE him feel any particular way...he does that to himself. But I DO understand that when your spouse used to want you all the time and now does not want you all the time, it is likely to do a number on your self-esteem. Mr. D likens it to a roller coaster that he has been on for years. At first, the ups and downs were intense and close together. Now, the ups and downs are less intense, but the downs drag on much longer than they used to. Part of this in in direct correlation with our bouts of depression and my "highs." My bipolar highs worked in his favor early in our relationship (sexual promiscuity and high sex drive), but after childbirth, my libido dropped and my highs and lows evened out more over time. My decreased desire had more to do with my own chemistry than with anything he was or wasn't doing.

And could someone please send me these, as well?
I'm missing the one that I handed over to the other side last week.

Problem #2: Mr. D feels he is lacking something he can't get from me...he says he needs to feel wanted in more ways than can be accomplished by just me.  He gets restless and bored and craves the "newness" of the unknown and the unattainable. He feels he needs the interaction of other women...women who are married, grounded, and very much in love with their own mates...and are therefore not a threat to our own marriage. His need has developed into an interest in polyamory. I do not want or need the same thing, so this causes a lot of contention in our marriage. It's probably important to note that his parents were/are polyamorous, and I come from a very traditional background. Both of our parents are still married, and have been for over 40 years. It's hard when there is nothing wrong with what either of us wants...we just want different things. It'd be easy if we didn't want each other, but neither of us wants to give up our marriage, we both really want to figure out a way to make our marriage work, which means completely redefining it for ourselves in a way that works for us, not anyone else. We just haven't figured out how to do that yet.

Problem #3: Mr. D feels sorry for wanting what he does. I don't think he should feel sorry or that he should want to or feel that he needs to change to accommodate me. Nor do I feel I should feel sorry for not wanting what he does, nor should I have to change who I am to accommodate him. However, marriage is a great compromise that relies on two people making changes to assure the comfort and happiness of the other. So there's that. Not to mention that I don't want him to resent me for not letting him be sexually adventurous...and he doesn't want me to resent him for encouraging me to explore in ways I don't want to go; however, it's not at all my intention to ask him to deny his desires...which I feel are completely natural. Therein lies the main conundrum. 

And, not to be needy, but could someone also make me this?

Problem #4: Mr. D feels I've changed (and that he has not)...that I'm not the woman he fell in love with in a few regards. I can agree with that to some degree...but it doesn't keep me from feeling a bit defensive - as my chemistry has naturally changed - in response to having a child, aging, and having had a partial hysterectomy...and my foci have changed. Sex has just lost some of its importance for me...while it hasn't at all for Mr. D (until just recently when his libido took a nose-dive). I think this is a common problem for men and women...but I'm not using it as an excuse, be assured.

Here's a journal entry from 2015:

So last night, he listed all of the things I have done to cause him hurt. And I have to say, by the time he was done, I felt like I'd been dragged through the fire. It's not like anything he said wasn't true, but hearing it all in one litany of complaints was a bit overwhelming. And then, of course, I was left speechless. What was I going to say but "I'm sorry"? So not only was I left feeling like I was a shitty wife...shitty person in general, really...but I was left feeling like there was nothing I could do about it.

I'm going to recreate the list, best as I can remember, here...so I can "think about it," as he said...

1. he's still angry that I made such a big deal about his going to AA and that I said the only thing we have in common is alcohol

2. he feels I try to take all his time, so he can't work out or do anything to better himself

3. he feels I don't want to do anything social, but I don't want him to do anything with anyone else either

4. he wants someone to want him, whether it's me or someone else, and he can't figure out why I'm so against him having someone on the side

5. he remembers things I have said during fights that have hurt him 

6. he feels I'm not who I was when he married me...that he married someone who was social and liked sex and now he has a wife who is super introverted and has no sex drive

7. he says he feels like he's at the mercy of my sexual desires and that mine are always met while his are not

8. he doesn't trust me because I say I'll do things and then I don't follow through...which has happened several times

9. he says I treat him like I want to be treated rather than how he needs to be treated

Basically, I got that he's severely depressed with our marriage because he feels trapped. And I get that. He's right. And I told him so. But, I still felt at a loss because the way he states it is he doesn't trust me, and that it all lies on my shoulders. He even said he's given me so many opportunities to fix it that if he does it again, it'll only be once. No pressure, right?

So, I guess we're at the end of the rope. And the only choice I have is to address all of his upsets. But, I have no idea how to go about it. When he's mad at me, how am I supposed to begin? I don't even know where to start. And he seems to think I should have a plan. 

And then tuck me in with a cup of tea and a good book?

I wish it were that easy. 

The other hard part of the conversation was that he wants me to want sex in the way he wants it, but even if I don't, simply trying to meet his needs isn't enough. He feels like that is capitulating. And he doesn't want that. So we're back to... "just want me." I wish I could...on a regular basis and in the way he needs. I wish I were more creative and less jealous and just a better wife all around. Because right now, I feel like a shit wife. And I feel like our whole marriage has just been a joke, even though we've had lots of good times (in my opinion). In his, though, without the sex life being healthy, none of it has been really all that good...because that overshadows everything. It's the way he connects to me, so without it, he's not felt connected to me - for years.

And I don't know how to fix it. So what IS my plan? And how do I sustain it? Cause honestly, I don't have a lot of faith in myself to sustain. I get his mistrust. How do I do it? What do I do?

He wanted me to write down his resentments and get a new counselor. So, I guess I'll start there. 

And then I've got to find a way to meet his needs and put them first on a regular basis:

1. be more consistent with sex

2. be more creative and open with sex

3. encourage his social life

4. go with him and be social and find a way to like it

5. provide him a way to work out and help with dinner so he has time

6. help him keep the alcohol out of the house and support him if he wants to quit

7. allow him to lead our sex life and his own

8. accept that I am introverted and not feel like I have to be a part of everything he does and that he should be free to go out with anyone he wants, whenever he wants, for however long (which I don't really agree with, because I wouldn't do that to him, but he seems to think that should be okay - although, I don't think he'd like it if I did it - just up and said, "I'm going out and I don't know when I'll be back, see ya!")

Basically, I apparently need to have my own life and he needs to have his and we need to merge them socially, sexually, and as parents and homeowners on a regular enough basis to stay connected. 

It seems like a daunting task and I'm not sure how to approach it. But he says it's my obligation now. 

It's depressing, really. Because I don't feel like I'm the only reason we're here now, and the sex stuff isn't necessarily within my control. And when I say I'm willing to try, it seems like trying isn't enough. If I don't actually feel the desire, whatever I try is going to be less than what he wants. Because he wants me to want it, too.

I don't know if I can do this.

A bit more background for those who want it:

My husband and I met on the internet through a small town "personals" group much like match.com. We were the only two people under the age of 40 without kids, so I think it just sort of "happened." I will admit, however, that when I saw him, it was pretty much lust at first site. 

He was your atypical bad boy. He was a mechanic who built hot rods and wore sideburns, a beat up cowboy hat, tattoos, white t-shirts and faded jeans. He rode a motorcycle and had a rottweiler and a scorpion for pets. He lived in a double-wide trailer. He was blue collar with a brilliant vocabulary, a good work ethic, and a soft heart.

Me? I was a college-educated, middle class, military brat with big plans and traditional expectations. At 27, I wanted to stop fucking around, get married, have 2.5 kids, buy a nice house with a two-car garage, a yard, and a dog, and vacation in the tropics every other year.

Neither of us made our dreams a secret. We thought we had enough in common (the pursuit of knowledge, commitment), along with an intense sexual attraction, to make things work. 

But, our sexual wants and needs HAVE changed since we first met. I miscarried our first child. And, while our second was born healthy, it was not without complication. I had a placenta accreta, which is not common in pregnancies where a c-section has not already been performed in the past. I ended up being treated with anti-cancer medication, hoping the placenta would "let go." But it didn't, and I was forced to accept an emergency hysterectomy. I was pretty much devastated. And it took me months to heal and actually feel sexual pleasure of any sort. 

The baby was born in September, but by January, my sex-starved husband was offering up his own solutions. He suggested "swinging" to bring adventure back into the bedroom and to possibly help with my self-esteem issues over my new mom body. I did some research, at his behest, and we decided to try it. 

I'm not saying it was all bad, because it wasn't. I can admit that I have bisexual tendencies. And I had a few really good experiences. But, overall, swinging worked much more favorably for him, and left me feeling mainly disappointed. See my upcoming Throwback Thursday post for more on that subject.

But, once a fruit has been tasted, it is hard not to remember its appeal. For Mr. D, it was bitter indeed to give up that sweet freedom and adventure. At the time, I thought it might be my jealousy that was the problem, but I was never jealous seeing him fuck other women. I was simply upset over my own situation, which was usually a bunch of rather disappointing men who cared more about what their wives were doing that whether or not I was having a good time. Call me selfish, but it got in the way of my enjoyment of the whole thing.

So, I began to close off from it. And Mr. D became frustrated with my lack of interest. We tried going at it from a different angle...letting him play while I stayed out of it. But that didn't work, either...partially because I was jealous and partially because he just wanted me involved. 

I've also had a substantial amount of trouble both with my bipolar disorder and my low libido. I've gone to counselors, nurses, doctors, acupuncturists, massage therapists, naturopaths...and I've read several books and done lots of research of my own. What I've learned is that a loss of libido over time, for women especially, is natural and unavoidable for many. Regardless of exercise, mental health, diet, sleep, etc., I may likely never find the sex drive I had when I was 27. And I can't feel guilty for that. I shouldn't. But I DO owe him the attempt at being at least somewhat sexual. I owe MYSELF that attempt, too. So there's that. And he owes me the attempt at being content in a monogamous relationship...because that is what I signed up for.  It's probably also important to note that I do my fair share of the housework and child-raising and that I also have a job that involves a heavy dose of fulfilling the needs and wants of others all day. It doesn't excuse my putting him second to my work, but it does explain my exhaustion when I get home and my preference for a blanket and a book over social endeavors. I've always been an introvert who performs the role of an extrovert well. And he's an extrovert trapped in an introvert's body.

As you can see, we have hit a wall or two in our search for a compromise that works for us both. By definition, a compromise means that both parties are giving up something to avoid conflict and to gain something in the process, and up to this point, neither of us has been able to give up just the right thing to feel that sufficient mutual gain has been attained. Hence...no compromise.

I'd love to be "enough" for my husband, but I understand the social construct of monogamy is just that...a social construct. However, it's a social construct that I want and one that he has grown weary of. So how do we make both of us happy? 

Maybe we can't. 

In the long run, I don't know for sure if we will make it. I hope that we do, because I love him. But, I also realize that when two people are involved, there are variables that one person does not have control over. I cannot MAKE him happy or unhappy. I cannot improve his self-esteem, as he cannot improve mine. But I CAN and SHOULD make him a priority. That's what I'm working on right now, even though illness and absence have made this month difficult for both of us. 

It's a process. Marriage is a journey.

And for tonight, that is where I am going to leave it...muddied and chaotic, like a pile of dirty clothes dumped on the floor from a suitcase that has gone on a rather mundane trip through a modern-day marriage.

P.S. My reader also asked if I had ever had an affair. No...I have not and would not. My husband admitted to trying, but also admitted that he could't bring himself to do it. Not only did he love me too much, but he felt a moral obligation to his promise of fidelity. We are not cheaters. We are simply two people trying desperately to find a middle ground as we fight our own mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual health demons.

First Love

This week's Wicked Wednesday prompt is:

Most of us have them… ex lovers. Are you still talking to your ex, or rather not? How about having sex with the ex? Have you ever done that? Why? They are ex lovers for a reason, but sometimes we just cannot stop thinking of them… or want to see them. Why is that? Would you want to get back together with your ex?

I honestly would not want to get back together with any of my exes. All of those relationships ended for a reason. However, all of my real relationships...the ones that count...were intense in their own way and quite passionate. So, if you asked me if I would have sex with them again, I'd say yes to just about every one of them.

Looking back through the long-term sexual relationships I have had, each one has been pivotal in my sexual and emotional growth.

Most importantly, there was my first love - I was 15 when I met him. He sat behind me in 9th grade geometry class. He was a year ahead of me, but he'd failed the class and was taking it over again. He continually tapped me on the shoulder asking for pencils and help on his assignments. Being the naive girl that I was, it took me nearly the entire quarter to figure out that he was actually flirting with me. And when I did figure it out, I was terribly self-conscious and probably made a ridiculous fool of myself blushing and smiling in response to his advances.

He was the pitcher for the high school baseball team. I was basically a nerd. But, he seemed genuinely interested in me, rather than just seeking a piece of easy ass. I don't think I really came off as "that kind of girl," anyway.

We started hanging out after school, and he asked me to come to a few of his games. Before long, we were sickeningly inseparable. We clung to each other and pretty much grossed everyone out with our sappy "I'll die without you" Romeo and Juliet attachment. But we were both (I'm sure) pretty much entranced with each other and believed we would never be able to survive alone again. We made each other mixed tapes from the late night call-in, love-line radio shows, wrote each other novel-length notes during classes, and lost hours of sleep just contemplating our unfathomable connection. It was epic.

We spent a lot time with locked lips, sucking face and feeling each other up in the back seat of my mom's Pontiac, secluded behind the old middle school. In fact, I remember vividly giving him a hand-job there one night. I didn't move fast enough to stop the sudden spurt of his cum, and it splashed across the upholstery. I never did quite get the stain out, and every time I looked at it, I thought of it.

I promised myself that I wasn't going to lose my virginity until I was 16. He respected that, and he never pushed me. And when all the other guys were engaging in locker room lies, he heartily denied that anything had gone that far between us.

I knew I would give it to him. And for a hopeless romantic like myself, giving my virginity to him was like offering him the most precious gift I could give. He waited patiently, and when I told him I was ready, he made all the arrangements.

He lived on the "wrong side of the tracks" in a run-down trailer park my parents hesitated to let me visit. His parents were severe alcoholics and were often not sober (or even conscious) when I was there. That night was no exception. His dad was at the bar, and his mom was passed out on the couch, but it was the only place we could find besides the back of a car. He wanted things to be a little more romantic than that, so we did the best we could with what we had.

He didn't have his own room, so his brother let us use his, since he had a full-sized bed. My boyfriend had thought of everything a teenage boy could think of. He had candles, and condoms, and towels, and Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill, and Air Supply. And we had us....all fumbling hands and lips and soft, teenage skin. Our barely controlled urges, finally unharnessed and invited, became immense and overwhelming.

Because of this, I don't remember much of the actual sex itself. I know it hurt at first. He was a fairly good-sized young stud, and I was a virgin. I bled a little, but he was seriously gentle. He went slow, and even though it didn't feel good physically to me, and even though I didn't orgasm, I knew I wanted to do it again...and again...until it did feel good. Because I knew he was a safe place to explore. He would be patient and wait for me to catch up.

I also don't remember if he came. But, I do remember that he let me lay there in the bed, composing myself while he ran a bath. He carried me, naked, from the bedroom into the bathroom. No one else was home, except for his mom, who was still passed out on the couch. He placed me in the bath, got in with me, and we talked like we normally did, and held each other like we'd never let go.

The peeling linoleum floor and cracked, gold-flecked Formica counter-tops took nothing away from the beauty of that moment.

It still makes me smile...24 years later...I'd call that a pretty okay first time.

I broke up with him a few years later, in the front cab of his pick-up. He had just told me he enlisted in the Army and was hoping I might wait for him to get through basic training and then marry him. I had always thought I would marry him. But, by that time I had committed myself to going to college. and after having grown up in the military and watching the sacrifices my mom had to make for my dad's career, I knew I couldn't submit myself to that. I broke both our hearts that day when I said I couldn't wait for him and that I wouldn't marry a military man. He was dumbstruck. I think, honestly, he'd enlisted more for me than for him, sure that I'd be impressed and sure that I'd want to marry a man just like my father. He was trying so hard to be exactly what we all wanted him to be, and in the end, that was exactly what brought the whole castle down.

He went to basic training and ended up getting a childhood friend pregnant and marrying her. He stayed in contact with me and my family (my dad had sort of "adopted" him), and I remember him calling me to express his disappointment and dread. He wanted me to save him, but it wasn't something I could save him from. I told him I wished it were different, but that maybe this was just the way it was supposed to be. I told him I knew he'd be a great father...and that I'd never stop loving him.

He had another child by that same woman, but the marriage didn't last. We met up once when I was in college, had a few drinks and ended up reminiscing and making out. I guess the fire might lessen over time, but with a love that intense, it never really goes out. We've talked on the phone a few times over the years and have stayed in contact via Facebook. And while I look back on what we had with great fondness, our time has come and gone. Much like a faded photograph, it can never be made quite that perfect again. Besides, memories have a tendency to become what we want them to be...and what we need them to be. I'd rather keep them as they are: young and innocent and sweet.

The magic of beginnings - and the tools & gadgets that help

WARNING: This is NOT a sexy post...just in case you had your hopes up...

Starting new projects and planning are two of my favorite activities. I'm a type A, if you hadn't
already surmised. I also have bipolar disorder and therefore, I get super (I mean SUPER) passionate about new ideas and beginnings. And then...they fizzle pretty quickly. And the fizzling makes me feel bad...which leads me down the self-implosion route...and eventually...I'm once again hanging out with my old friend "depression." It's a nasty cycle, and one I'm sure several of you can relate to on some level.

To make things even more complicated, there's probably a little adult ADD to contend with, which means focusing and keeping myself organized can often feel like climbing Mt.Everest without the right gear and with a pack of spider monkeys as my sherpa guides.

So, I spent my entire winter break preparing for this.

The challenge (and motivation) for me this time is that I can't afford to let it fizzle. Sara Knight has a great little book for this). Now, like any addict (I just happen to be addicted to not having my shit together), it is easy to say I want to quit or start something. It's fairly easy, even, fun actually, to plan. The first few days or weeks...yeah...okay. But then, like all habits one tries to create (and science backs it), it gets harder the closer you get to actually making it a habit.
fizzle. Mr. D and I have been down this road too many times, and I've got a thing or two to prove, not just to him, but myself, as well.

I am naturally lazy and apathetic about a lot of things. Like Eeyore, I could just bury my head in the sand and let life pass me by, sad and mopey because things just didn't turn out my way. But, to keep my marriage...and my health...it's going to be necessary to do some pretty serious internal and external work this year.

I took ideas from the best resources I came across this year to create my own goal/priority "road map" for the year.

Here are the steps I followed...


Step #1: Core Desired Feelings - I started with how I wanted to feel.
This was a week-long morning journaling endeavor using The Desire Map workbook. It took some doing, but I finally whittled my list down to five  four"core desired feelings" to focus on and work toward this year. I want to feel deeply connected, receptive, sensual present, gracious, and centered. From here, I had to consider what actions and circumstances would help me feel that way. And every day, as I build my schedule, these feelings are central. I write them at the top of my daily planning page each morning and make sure that the majority of what I have planned will help me get there.

Step #2: Life Vision - That led me to writing my "vision" (I used The Perfect Day Formula - a guide from the editor of Early to Rise - to help with this, since it provides a pretty decent example of what a simple life vision should look and sound like). My vision categorizes my life into three major categories: relationships (marriage, parenting, family & friends), lifestyle (home, travel, health), and work. I basically just briefly described my life as I wish it were...as if I were already there...in each of these categories. The whole thing is only two pages long. It's optimistic, positive, and realistic, focusing only on the things that matter most to me. No complaining.

Step #3: Setting My Top Priorities & Goals - Next, I selected one sub-category from each of these main categories to focus on this year: marriage, health, and writing. Those are my priorities. The One Thing provides templates for breaking these areas down even more, from "someday goals" to "5-year goals," "1-year goals," monthly, weekly, daily, and "right now." So I went through the process for each of these subcategories (it doesn't take long with the one page worksheets in the PDF I linked above). There are a few other exercises in the PDF that you might want to try, as well.

Step #4: And that got me to the first steps I must take and THE ONE THING that I must do in each category of my life to make the biggest overall impact on everything. Handily, my sex/marriage goals connect directly to my blogging goals (yay!), and my fitness goals are just a matter of scheduling and follow-through. If anyone is interested in my fitness journey, I'll post that somewhere separate (and out of the way) on the blog. It does actually have quite a bit to do with my sex goals, too. It's no secret that being healthier and in better physical shape has an impact on sex drive and body image. So there's that. All my goals intertwine, which will hopefully make them easier to stick to and achieve.

I printed all of these little items out (my CDFs, my vision, and my goal sheets) and stuck them in the front of my planner for continual reference.

Now, as a type A...I'm a serious planner. And because of the ADD, I probably go overboard on the organization and tracking. But, I've found that it is necessary for me to do this to stay "deeply connected" to what I'm trying to accomplish and to keep myself on track.

So, these are my tools...

PLANNER

I have an adorable planner.

I have tried so many different planners, but this is the one that works for me. I bought the hole punch that works with it, so I can put anything in it, remove pages, replace them. For those us who hyper-plan...and re-plan...and then screw up and plan again, this is a godsend.

I color code the events on the monthly calendar.

Each of my family members and each of my three main priorities (from above) have their own color. The weekly calendar pages are set vertically on a two-page spread, and there are three blank sections for each day. I think most people use them for morning, day, and night, but I use them for my three priorities (marriage, health, and writing). And then I use the daily pages for specifics, notes, to-do lists, and scheduling.

There's a lot of sensitive, personal information in this little gem, so it doesn't leave my desk. It's part of how I start my day, with what I call my "gratitude flow." I do a bit of yoga, some mediation, prayer...I set an intention related to my priorities and/or goals, and then I plan my day based on my CDFs. I must say, it's hard to plan my day around how I want to feel, rather than just a bunch of shit I feel I have to get done. It changes things. My CDFs rule my vision. My vision sets my priorities. I break my priorities down into "manageable chunks" (read Sarah Night's Get Your Shit Together) to get to the One Thing I must do right now...and today...

It really probably seems simple. But for me, this kind of planning has never really COME TOGETHER so beautifully. It took me all year to read these books, process all the best information I gleaned from them, and turn them into a "system" that would work for me. And this system keeps me from creating To Do lists a mile long and then letting them ruin my life. It also keeps me focused on what matters most, meaning I have to say no to a lot of other "stuff." If that "stuff" doesn't fit in with my priorities and doesn't help me attain my goals or feel the way I want to feel, then it gets pushed to the bottom of the list or removed. Unless...of course it's an emergency or a requirement. Things like "taxes" and "do the laundry...again...for the 4 millionth time" just never leave the list. But, they have ceased to rule my life. It used to be that I'd make a to-do list and then get busy crossing shit off of it every day. Invariably, more things would get added, and the list was always too long to actually accomplish. I never completed the list. Ever. Which always left me feeling drained and sort of pissed off. It meant I never felt the way I wanted, and what I wanted to do always got put off. And that, my friends, is a sure-fire mood killer. Bye-bye libido, right?


CALENDARS

I am pretty much the "calendarer" in our household. I keep, update, and remind everyone what's going on and what's coming up. So, we have a family calendar on the wall and I use Google Calendar, since I can combine both my personal and work calendar in one place. Plus, I have a cool little widget on my phone's main screen that tells me what's on the docket for today and tomorrow, to keep me in check. I color code this, too, so I can see what applies to me, Mr. D, my son, and all of us as a family. And I time block to make sure my priorities take center stage.

My planning system is pretty important. And it works pretty well. I will admit, that I spend an inordinate amount of time planning, but since I enjoy it (as a sort of sick hobby, I suppose), it's all okay. I'll also admit that I can get mired down in the planning and forget to actually do anything (or run out of time to do anything). I'm working on that. It's a journey.



PRIORITY LISTS

To keep this from becoming to unwieldy a process, I use the Google Keep app. It allows me to make lists, but hide the items I'm not currently focusing on. So, at any given time, only the things I have to accomplish TODAY are showing, but I can add to the hidden list as much as I want and prioritize those items. I have checklists for my marriage, my blog, my health, reading, basic to-dos, housekeeping, work...plus all of my shopping lists (which I can share with Mr. D) and my son's chore list (which I can share with him). It's super handy and very simple. I like seeing all of my lists in one place and being able to check them off and edit them at a whim.


TRACKING

I'm using Loop Habit Tracker to track my goal progress. I played with several habit tracker apps this year, and this one was the simplest to use. The interface is clean, it sets reminders, and it shows progress over time in multiple ways. Not a bad little app for FREE. So many of the other trackers I found just had too much extra stuff, when all I wanted was to chart my progress.



GRATITUDE

And finally, I also keep a gratitude journal. The 5 Minute Journal app is perfect for this. It reminds me in the morning and at night to complete the short entry, and it allows me to attach an image for the day. Staying grateful is one of my aims this year. So, this app is perfect. I used it on and off all last year, and have determined that it is the best product of its type.


This probably all sounds like a lot of work. And, I'll admit, the set-up takes awhile. But, it was a worthwhile undertaking for the end of the year. I think it set me up for greater success this year, because I have a very narrow focus. I have specific goals that lead up to bigger ones. These goals are directly tied to my top priorities, which are directly tied to what I want my future to look like. And all of it is meant to help me feel the way I want to feel on a daily basis.

So here's to a great 2018.

My top 3 blogging superheroes

#1: Marie Rebel

Marie Rebel of Rebel's Notes and the curator of Wicked Wednesday has been an inspiration to me for some time. She was one of the first sex bloggers I followed, when I started this gig in 2010, and her's was one of the first memes I got involved with. As I have disappeared and reappeared again, she has always been there to welcome me back, encourage me (as a writer and as a person), and somehow finds the time to do so for so many other bloggers. She is a true icon of this writing community, and she amazes me. Through all of her own personal struggles and work and life, she has managed to keep up a blog, run a meme that is now on its 291st prompt, and revive the Smut Marathon. Holy hell! I can barely keep up with writing my own little blog on a semi-regular basis.

#2: Molly Moore

Molly is another of those superstars of the sex-blogging community. She has managed several of her own projects (most notably, The Pussy Pride Project) and memes and also heads up e-lust, which offers a fabulous publishing opportunity for the rest of us. She's helped me and inspired me as a blogger and writer, and, like Marie, I love to see the real person behind her online presence that she shares in her blog posts. Her photos are impressive, and her Sinful Sunday meme has challenged me to take photos and share myself in a way I may otherwise never have dared.

#3: Kayla Lords

Superstar sex-blogger #3 for me is Kayla Lords. She runs Masturbation Monday and has a podcast/blog (which I am new to) called Loving BDSM. I applaud her vulnerability and strength and courage. She is another writer, like Marie and Molly, who manages to have several balls in the air at once (naughty pun intended). I'm always so impressed by bloggers like Kayla, though I have to admit, it intimidates me a bit, because I feel like I would fall apart if I were running so many things at once. It takes dedication, organization, and creativity...three things which Kayla seems to have in spades.

Who knew I was a marathon girl?

I haven't run an entire 26.2 in one go, but I have walked/ran/jogged, choked/limped/heaved my way through three half-marathons...and trained for each one of them like someone told me I could never do it. That sort of resolve, at least for me, has to come from a place of gritty determination - bordering on anger and a kind of "I'll fucking show you, you bastard" resolve.

I'll be honest...I'm not a big fan of running. I don't like coming home from an exhausting day at work, longing for a stiff drink and passing it up for my running shoes. And the first mile just feels like I weigh 300 pounds. I'm slow, heavy, stiff, and crabby.

But then...every once in awhile, I hit that glorious (and yes, it really exists) runners' high. It's that moment when my whole countenance suddenly softens and just molds right into every move it's making. That moment when what I'm doing feels like it's exactly what my body was built to do. I feel light and laser-focused. I want to run forever...until I die.

Of course, I can't. And so, I slow my pace and run through a cool down.

The high lasts for awhile. Hours...

And then I wake up in the morning, and my whole body hates me. Every little nerve aches, each twinge sending out curse words directed right at me for being so stalwartly insensitive.

It's usually a few days before I can get up and try again. After a high like that, it takes some doing to get back to it.

The whole process is actually a really good metaphor for my sex life and marriage.

Let me explain.

You see, I'm not a sprinter. I'm not fast. I'm not particularly competitive. I'm also slow to warm and slow to heal.

No...I'm a marathoner. I plan and train and commit to things. Bleeding toes and chafing thighs don't stop me, though I might bitch a blue streak as I finish another mile. I might cry and plead for it to be over.

I don't give up.

But I also know there are smarter ways to train and smarter ways to run. Up to this point, I've been taking the hard route: a mountain trail at the edge of winter rather than a smooth path on a sunny Spring day. Why? For some reason, I've always leaned toward the most difficult option. And I'm starting to see the folly in that.

This year, it is my plan to soften into my pace. To ease and open and just let the high take me when it can. And when it can't? Well, I'll keep running. Because what else does a marathon girl do?

The thing is, giving everything I have to a chosen action or task actually feels good. It feels good to surrender, to let go, to explode like a firework across the sky. To lay there, completely spent, knowing that I could have given nothing more to what I wanted most at that moment. That is the definition of catharsis...the great purge of pent up intention.

I feel it after sensational sex. I feel it after completing a big project. And I feel a hint of it every time I look at my husband when he doesn't notice me looking. That liquid warmth that starts at my collar bones and floods slowly through my upper chest and into my belly. It vibrates. And it erases all the shit that doesn't matter.

I want that high more often.

But, of course...that high doesn't just happen. And it isn't as easy to get as one produced by narcotics. It's a high that happens because the body is being pushed to another level. Likely just as addictive as an artificially induced high, but so much cleaner and more rewarding. It's a high that doesn't break the body down in its insatiable desire for more. Rather it pushes the body to greater heights and strengthens it as the same time.

That's what love does. Long-term love, much like a marathon, comes with its ups and downs. Its lows and hurts...its highs and periods of tremendous growth. My marathon, so far, has been painful at times. But, this is how we build resilience. It's also how we learn which paths to avoid, which paths to seek, and which paths to simply stay on until they run out.

I don't have a particular destination in mind anymore. It used to be that I had a plan. Get a degree...find a man...get married...settle down...buy a house...have a baby...get a promotion...and then...and then what? Well...I'm at the "then what?" stage of my life, which feels a little disorienting and yet also a little freeing. I have everything I set out to achieve in my life. And maybe that's part of the problem I've been facing. It's like finishing one marathon, and then trying to figure out not only why you did it but what you got out of it that would make you do it again.

I guess what I get out of it is a sense of purpose. And my purpose just got a lot more simple: enjoy the view from up here.
 

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more entries for this prompt.

The Coy Muse (fiction)

She reached for the glass of wine balanced precariously on a tall stack of books that was standing in for a coffee table. She had very little in the small apartment, but the books spilled from boxes and bags and infused a sense of purpose and prescience to the atmosphere. Soft sounds of her limbs sliding against each other and the pencil's musical whispers created a quiet symphony of  "shhhhhh." Her hand, wrapped around the yellow wood, transferred secrets from her head onto the pillow of the paper.

One painting sat propped against the bare wall in front of her - six free-standing, ivory candles burning beside it.

Periodically, she glanced upward and rested her eyes on the colors in the frame. She'd cock her head to one side, hold it up with her left hand, and sip from the glass, letting the wine pool in the center of her tongue. She'd leave it there, until it warmed, and then swallow. savoring the bitter sweetness as it seeped down her throat, heating her stomach...reminding her she was still alive.

She'd suck in her lip, bit down just hard enough, and squint a bit, her brow furrowed. Looking up, and to the right, her thoughts would center. And, again, she'd write what came first to her mind, as if avoiding thought would somehow purify the ideas.

What spilled onto the paper was truth. And truth would later have to be revised. Modified. Tempered. Cut. Pasted. Perfected.

What left this room would be crafted.

But what happened now? This was the seduction of the muse...that temperamental temptress who came and went as she pleased and often had to be appeased. Her current alter consisted of a plain wood floor, two giant picture windows, and an abandoned life.

The muse was hungry. And she took what she wanted, being god and devil both.

She consumed.

She bestowed.

She saved.

And she damned.

But she would not be refused.

And so the woman in the chair, in the nearly empty room, sat cross-legged in a plush armchair, hoping that her offerings would be enough. She had left everything behind for this emptiness, praying for the muse to return.

She looked down at her own nakedness, her skin glowing as the shadows danced lazily across her breasts, her belly, her thighs. She offered nothing less than herself.

Facing the muse, she prayed. Her pencil halted, started, stopped...and waited....

So much was possible.

Looking back at the painting, she asked the muse to grant her the blessing of a few words.