wide awake


It has slumbered for so long as it  awakened it caught me off guard. The welcomed beat of a different heart.

Slow exhale eyes just this side of closed.
Quick glimpses ample thighs wrapped around your waist. Eyes closed.
I’m slick with want my cores heat fixated on your thickness
Each and every urgent stroke a signature. As you write your name from the inside of me to the outside of what is now we
Forceful down strokes. One hand  wrapped around my throat I trust each and every squeeze.  Your voice in my ear. One word that does not need to be spoken drawn out in a low guttural moan “mine”
The back of my thighs now pressed against your chest as you reach the place where we have always been connected.
Your lips and tongue claim me pronouncing your ownership without words as you taste me. As you feast you feed my need. Fingers strong and demanding as you grab my ass to allow better feasting. My heart soars as your mouth is full of me.
Ample thighs resting on your shoulder. Feast.
My back to your chest as you enter me from behind. My hands applying the perfect indirect pressure as you work us to the final expression of awakened love.

and scene…


This scenario, the film I have developed and edited repeatedly in my mind.

It can’t be warm. Those are times gone by, moments never to be relived.
It’s all eyes in the beginning. No touching.
It’s blistering cold and I’m being me when it comes to all of that. You laugh at me. Eyes almost closed, cheeks flushed from the cold.
I unwrap my layers. You laugh again shaking your head. Then as I remove my coat I realize I’m holding my breath.
Wheeeew. Exhale.
We sit because it’s just lunch.
I can’t stop looking at you. You don’t say a word. You extend your hands across the small table.  I welcome the first touch. I place my cold hands into yours. You rub your warm hands over mine. The first touch nothing like you read in books. The earth does not move. No heart beats skipped. It’s the warmth from your heart to my hands and once again I am safe.
Within your hands.
It’s warm again and we are by the water entangled in a love so rich so powerful life changing.
I’m in your hands heart mind body spirit.  Exhale.
You rub slowly, gently until my hands are warm. When you’re done you don’t let go. You slowly open your hands giving me the opportunity to disconnect if I feel the need. I rub my palms over yours. Still in your hands. I turn your hands over.  I slowly unlatch your over sized TAG Heuer lay it gently to the side.
I see the ink with my own eyes for the first time,  I’m under your skin. I rub my thumb over it very slowly as I try and fail to keep my emotions at bay. I look into your eyes as mine fill with tears.
Then you finally speak. “It’s okay Love. Let’s get some lunch”.
In your hands under your skin in your spirit. I am there.

I wrote this…


I haven’t been able to blog.  I jus keep writing and rewriting things in my head.  I’m trying to do the work to change the course of how I feel, but it would seem I’m not getting where I want to go.

I was never the princess type girl.  I dreamed of visiting place and being happily weird. I wanted to get away from that nagging feeling that I didn’t matter.  I found decades later, no matter how far you travel you pack those feelings with you. 

Not boasting but I have high emotional intelligence.  Logically I understand those feelings don’t reflect how those who love me see me in real time.

Unwittingly I married someone who has very low emotional intelligence.  I’ve been in therapy on my own and with my husband. It has taken me years to see myself unfiltered.  I am emotionally fragile with those I allow close to me.  Outside my circle others see this chick who has zero fucks to give.  If someone sees me this way it means I have kept them out of my circles.  My circles are very small and run inward with smaller circles as you get to my core.  As the circles get smaller it represents fewer and fewer people I allow close.

I’m sitting on the edge of something that terrifies me.

Hang with me for a bit.  Give me this space as I try to give words to where I’m at.

I can’t do math.  Well I can’t do advanced levels of math such as calculus and not even higher level algebra.  It’s not my portion.  I can follow that steps but left on my own it’s a foreign language to me.

As I sat with my therapist it came out that my husband doesn’t get emotion.  He doesn’t understand how someone could not feel what he feels and how he feels it.  The thought of how emotions ebb and flow.  The heart of it.  He simply does not get it.  

I was told I had to find a way to accept he does not have this gift to give me.  I want to call bullshit.  However if I do that I’m not acknowledging his limits.  I still think in my core he simply does not DESIRE to be more for ME.  I resent it and for years I have been drawn to those who are my emotional equals.

I was drawn to my husband because he was SO different from me.  Calm to my frantic.  I’ve always felt my emotions some how make me flawed.  I sought to fix that flaw by trying to balance it out.  I had no idea that those needs would some day outweigh the other things I felt were important in a partner.  I also had no idea I married someone who didn’t have the ability to bond with me in ways that I wanted and needed.  I took his “flaw” as my own.  As if his inability to fulfill me, to see me was my fault.  I simple didn’t matter enough. Again.  I’ve asked repeatedly for what I need emotionally.  I’ve yet to receive it.

Now I must decide what I can and can’t live with. Do I walk away because he’s unable?  I haven’t figured that out.  I know I want to stop being angry.  I want to stop laying awake at night silently crying because another day has passed and my soul is starving.  I want to stop resenting the fact he states he would do anything for me but in reality the things I need the most are out of his reach.



There are moments I find myself shaky.  Moments where my heart and soul are tender in their need for reassurance. 

I have tried so hard to stay in my lane.  To allow you to live the life you have constructed.  I have to tried to stay safe for both of our sakes.

Tonight it was too much, too much anger, too much Jack Daniels, and too much frustration. After the final sip I found myself wanting, needing.  I knew no matter what I could count on you to talk me down.  To soothe me and not judge my tears.

I felt so safe just letting you in.  Even with the lies of the past, I still trust you with the most fragile and tender parts of me. I reached out to you because even after all this time you are my safe place.  

I tried to hold back my tears, I sobbed unsuccessful as I let them fall with no shame.

Your words to me “I see you.” I know this to be true.  You see me in a way no one else does.  Through your eyes I am not perfect, but I am more than my flaws.  I am simply me.  That me fills this you and we are the we that has evolved through pain, triumph, and love.

I reach for you in the only way I know how.  Open, wanting, wounded, and longing.

The best most loving part of you, reaches the best most loving part of me.

It is not perfect, but it is enough for us to be who we have become.  Two people in this world of billions who through a lens of love “see” each other.



I have a sisterfriend who is working on her PhD in sociology. This blows my mind as I struggle to just get in gear to finish my masters thesis.

She is from a very small very religious conservative town. She has made her escape (her words not mine) and is pursuing her dream of being an educated woman changing the world.

She has suffered trauma at the hands of those who were suppose to love and protect her throughout her life. Family turned on her when she decided to follow her own path.

She is struggling with her history as her classes open up wounds from her history.

She stated she was broken.

I have been in therapy for a loooong time and I have said those same words, but it was pointed out to me that broken people don’t seek change, broken people are in fact broken and continue to stay in that state.

As I struggled with my PTSD I felt overwhelmed and weak, even though I saw myself as broken as I did the work to make LIFE work, I found that I was anything but broken. Life is not without struggle and pain, but as I see myself after accepting what has happened to me and not letting it BE me, I can now see I am most definitely…Un-broken.

And it is so…


I’ve been in this relationship for quite some time.  I have failed at some things repeatedly and been successful in others.  

After the last misstep we were back in counseling working through our own shit individually and together.

At our last joint counseling session, I simply spoke my truth.  My soul was not being fed and I needed something more, something different.  I asked for what I felt I needed. I laid it out in plain words.  

The response I got was one of confusion.  The mister seemed confused that I had grown and changed and the things I needed in my 20s were no longer the things I wanted or needed in my 40s.

I’ve asked for several different things in this marriage and several times my requests have been met with resistance.  

I have tried time and again to give him what he needs, touch,sex, and food.  So he says, he is just that simple.  Cuddle me Fuck me Feed me.  For some time I have struggled to provide him these things at intervals that were acceptable to him.  When we married I was not a cuddler, nor a woman who loved/lived to cook.  Now I loved the sex part, because 20 years ago I was a horny devil!  The Mister says these are the things he needs to feel loved.  It’s not who I am or was but I made an effort.

So now as I work my own stuff out in counseling (we no longer go together) I’ve come to my own reality.  He simply will not give me the things I asked for.  I won’t get those things from him and he is not going to give it even when I ask for it.

I have tried not to be bitter or resentful.  There are people in this world who simply can not or will not step outside their comfort zone.

He will not step outside that zone for me, though I know he has done it for others.  Since he has made his choices, I have to make mine.

I have a good life, I will not surrender it and I will not allow my soul to remain unfed.  I will not allow myself to become a bitter bitch. 

My plan is to live my life and find sustenance for my soul elsewhere. 

Someone once told me it takes 3… I will find my third.

And it is so, some day soon my soul and my heart will be fed and sated.

First Thought


Is it strange that I can remember the last time I felt I was a first thought.  I remember standing in that room fresh out of the shower looking in the mirror.  Starring at your reflection in the mirror as you stared at me.  You had done this, crashing into my world.  Trying to give me what I was unable to have…you…us.  

I remember the weight of your chin on my shoulder as you leaned in from behind me starring at my face in the mirror.  You leaned your head into mine and said “we are going to make a beautiful baby”.  Too many years, too late.

I remember the smell of you fresh from sleep, hot musky from your time on the road.

You came to me as soon as you were able, trading favors and goodwill to get on the road to simply be in my presence.  I knew in those few hours I mattered to you.  I was your first thought.  I ached so badly I couldn’t even give it words, breath, light.

Held close, you said all you ever wanted to do was sleep with me, to watch me unafraid and unguarded as I dreamed, hopefully of you, of us.  Something so simple.  You said it was a gift. A gift. 

Your gift to me?

Your first thought.