“People are surprised you are able to keep on going at all, they compliment you all the time. They are surprised you haven’t crashed,” Mr. Texas commented, when I lamented that I haven’t been writing recently. I’ve barely been surviving on the domestic front either. Everything seems such a struggle.
“I am shocked I haven’t crashed yet either, I feel like it’s around every corner, could happen at any moment,” I replied, lying in bed, recovering from jet lag as I watched him wrap him Christmas presents that I had bought but had no energy to wrap after traveling to another country.
Mr. Texas takes excellent care of me, so much so that I’ve officially moved in with him. He even added that he felt like perhaps I won’t crash the way I fear because he is here to support me, not to mention that I’m on medicine right now to help me limp along with my emotional wreckage of a life. I hadn’t been sleeping to the point where I could no longer function – it’s amazing what some sleep and emotional stability can provide to functioning.
So let’s catch up my life to speed:
2016 greeted me with my husband wanting a divorce – which ripped my heart out and left me a shadow of my former self. The divorce also left me abandoned in my former hometown, looking for a new job and away from my support system of friends and my sister.
Somehow, during this stressful period, two men have been kind enough to care for me: Mr. Texas and The Wanderer. My relationship with both of them has been rocky, especially reconciling with my ex husband briefly, but they are supportive and patient through my struggles.
Before I felt fully myself from the divorce, my baby sister died unexpectedly. My family leaned on me, the way they always have for some odd reason (they say it’s because I’m the most responsible and strongest though I feel far from that), but I simply could not handle even the littlest things reeling from another loss so dear to my heart.
Mr. Texas, throughout it all, has held me and stepped up when I simply couldn’t stand on my own. We have a ton of issues – mostly coming from my end, but after my sister died and sex and hurty rope didn’t offer the comfortable escape I sought, Mr. Texas simply opened up his arms and held me through the tears, kissed and beat and fucked my body until I temporarily could seek release from it all.
When he wasn’t around, I fought the sleeplessness; the admitting that I needed help, counseling, medicine; limped along in my job and fought panic attacks; I binged ate and forgot to eat. Time and time again I kept coming over to his house, our kids blending seamlessly and he offered home cooked meals, wine, hot tub, comfort.
He offered home.
He changed his work schedule (a rare opportunity in the military) to help me with school schedules, painted bedrooms and negotiated with all the kids involved to make space personalized for everyone.
I don’t know if we’re suited: he was very vanilla but is now open minded enough to accept my want of polyamory, finds himself liking and even craving the kinkier intimate moments and the social communities; for myself, I wanted the freedom that older kids came with and exploring my outgoing kink lifestyle yet now find that home makes me content most days. It may be a fleeting acceptance on both of our parts but we are willing to see where it goes.
It’s a scary step.
I still fight the feeling that I need to stand on my own, that I need to find myself amid all this chaotic life changing loss, that I am relying on another so heavily.
I have always been the reliable one, the one that my family and even my ex husband relied on, the stead fast one, always known who I was, what I wanted, and how to get there.
I’ve no clue anymore. My heart is shattered in so many pieces I am shocked that anyone wants to hold the slivers and be in my broken company.
Maybe, even if I’m doing this wrong or for the wrong reasons, it’s what is right for right now.