It's hard for me to write after a crazy dry spell. All the thoughts I kept locked up come flowing through so fast that it is nearly impossible to form any of them into something coherent until the waters settle. So I slowly ramble my way back to our reality.
The absolute best moments are sitting at his feet while he idly strokes my hair, and he leans over and whispers "good girl" in my ear.
In that moment I am whatever he wishes me to be.
It's odd you know, the cravings and how they are fed by both his denial and willingness to feed them.
The denial feeds my need for his control even if it means not getting what I am after. It lacks that sated feeling, but serves as a reminder of my place.
And no matter how crazy the world gets, when our little circle looks like a crazy scribble drawn by an inattentive four year old, there always comes some method to the madness.
We come flowing back to where we should be. Even though it's not always where we were.
I'm trying to get back to my daily routine of working out and I hate to say it, but there may be something to be said for trigger point therapy (horrid stuff if you ask me. Novocaine made me nauseous for two days and I almost passed out after injection # 5. Who does that to people for a living?!), because my back almost feels, dare I say it? Normal!
My mom might watch the boys next weekend. Who knows, maybe we'll even go out and play like adults! Imagine that. I forgot what it's like lol.