I woke this morning from a dream I had in which W was alive, only to remember that he wasn’t in the moments after I woke. That’s always a painful moment, when the realization hits – oh, wait, he’s not here anymore. This time, unlike some others when he has shown up in my dreams, I didn’t have the bittersweet joy – albeit short-lived, whist dreaming – of talking to him, of seeing him, of experiencing him alive once more, because in this dream I didn’t get to talk to him. I dreamed I was trying to each him via cell phone, but could not. I woke, reaching for my phone, to text him – “Call me!” Of course he never will.
I don’t feel the overwhelming sadness at that thought that I used to, now. It comes with the understanding that our time has passed; that his time has. But there’s that infinitesimal moment, upon waking, when I am not yet aware of that…
It’s been a rough weekend. In spite of having a scene with V that I can only describe as transcendent on Saturday, Sunday was pretty brutal. I was alone, deliberately and not: I didn’t want to use Adam as a salve for my loneliness so didn’t reach out to him; I wanted to be with V to hold me and comfort me in my subdrop, but he would not, could not. I didn’t call Ad; V was not available in the way that I needed.
I don’t know if he ever will be.
I felt lost. Well, at the moment I felt sick. Anxious. Sad.
Obviously I can’t have what I want with V. Is something, no matter how little – a scene on Saturday night – better than nothing? How does one determine that? “All you get is 1/3 of me,” I was told, rather brutally, but honestly – fuck if it wasn’t honest. So, with what I was permitting with Adam – 1/7th of a relationship – and what V permitted me – 1/3rd – how did that add up to a full life? How does it?
I recognize things are not as black and white as that. Human relationships cannot be distilled down to mathematics. But sometimes, it seems like they should be. Science, math, logic, right?
Except there is no logic in what we feel.
So here I am tonight. I’ve been wanting to write – so many thoughts in my head (I actually started speaking notes into my phone) but I hesitate. I drink, and let alcohol fuzz my mind, and watch Netflix. I want to disappear into my words; into a space where I am not me.
On the other hand, I have had amazing revelations this weekend about who I am and what I do, and why, and my relationships have moved forward in positive ways. There is just this…this perfect storm of emotional vulnerability (working thru my relationship with Adam; with V) combined with a political climate that has me despairing in ways I’ve never experienced, combined with physical issues (my back again) that have brought me to this place where all I want is peace; solitude; quiet.
I want a break in my life that can’t be found in a scene, no matter that it strips me bare and reduces me to rubble (except yes, I want that.)
I want release from the obedience and rituals that are inherent in my D/s relationship (except I don’t, I need them so much right now.)
I want to shirk off the comfort of love and familiarity (except I need that comfort, more than ever.)
I don’t know the answers to all the questions I have. I don’t know how to calm the maelstrom of emotions that buffet me. I only know how to pause, for this one moment.
Take a breath and move on.