Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Barney & Willie's Excellent Adventure- NOT!

* A great deal of this post is told through a conversation between myself and another merely because I was too lazy/busy to reword it all in story format.  Sorry for that*



This past weekend was the first weekend Barney has not had to work for a very long time.  Due to life and other 'fun' things, we haven't connected on any physical level for the longest time since starting ttwd.  There also had been no Reconnection Appointments since he decided to clear the air after Wilma Left the Building.

We were invited out to dinner to our friends house ( Dan and Roseanne those who are interested how far things have come since October).  Saturday we lazed around.  We finally decided to go shopping, admittedly not a man's favourite past time, but we were buying birthday gifts and we went to a store where there was deliciously hilarious and naughty things!  So it was shockingly fun...yes even for me...and that was pretty much the end of our fun for the weekend.  We went to dinner...I had a nice time  ---..Barney ? ---...well I'd rather not get into it...but suffice to say the rest of the weekend was more like this

( without the happy face on Wilma)


We eventually talked and things were swept under the carpet worked out.  Because of said 'adventure', no reconnection on his days off either!
 

Skip ahead to the train wreck Reconnection Day.  Which could have been Monday, but Barney was called in to work.  So I wrote my Addicted to Crack post, mostly to put a smile on some faces, but the last line was more of a wake up call to my HoH.  I have begun to accept that I shouldn't expect things, and if they happen, great.  Things were getting desperate here though.  Not poking the bear...but Distancing Debbie,  in her lovely yellow sports car  was parked out front of my house, honk, honk, honking her horn.  Anywho...

Barney had said " When you are done there can you come upstairs"

" I want to talk first if that is alright?"

So that is what we did.  I explained how I felt we were going too long without some sort of connection.  I described how the past weekend made me feel.  How I didn't feel safe and protected.  That I had to be the one in charge.  I hated it..but it was far too simple to slip that HoH hat back on. Once again we talked about R/A when the kids are in the house.  Once again we talked about implements, and decided that during today's R/A that some quieter ones would be tried, as well as different approaches to warm up that may be quieter, ( hand spanking over nighty.) .

After our Reconnection Appointment..we had a reconnectoin of another type.  Only for the first time in a very long time I felt that this was something that was happening to me, not with me

The tears started to flow.  ( I swear if I knew how many tears would be expelled in this lovely adventure we embarked upon back in October.......well anyway).  Barney tried to console me?  I mean at this point I wasn't even sure what I was feeling.  


Poor guy.  I would imagine it took the wind out of his sails.  Moments earlier he was having a great time.  I didn't know what I was feeling or what to say, so I said just that...well sort of,but he understood. He made me promise to come to him once I could figure out what was wrong.

I finally went to Barney and said,

" I don't think the spanking worked" ( reconnection wise..and well for another reason to follow)

To which he responded

" Well that's not good"

And then.............................. that was it....?

A while later I found myself seeking help from a friend.  Somewhere from the bedroom to the basement, I went from weepy to angry.  Very angry. ( Odd really because just last week I had said to another friend, that it has been a while since anger was my default reaction.  I meant that I no longer went from hurt to anger in a blink of an eye as a coping mechanism.  I suppose that would explain the increased tears.  Although I honestly didn't think that was humanly possible.)   On this day my friend patiently listened, as always. She then said she would go back to her husband and explain how I felt disconnected because we hadn't connected in 2 week and perhaps one spanking and a lovemaking episode might not cut it.  To reach me.  What really struck a cord with me was the fact that she said he is probably frustrated because he couldn't reach me and he feels it is his fault.

I once again battled the war within and found my husband.  He held me in the kitchen, but my arms were between our bodies.  I was not the melty wifey that is for sure.  I explained to him as best I could.  Once again I left angry....here is exactly what I typed to my friend after THIS exchange

me: Okaaaaaay then...that didn't go well at all :(
Friend: sorry
 me: well...at the moment..I'm thinking he's clueless....argh..Okay I admit that is neither nice nor helpful..but it is honest :)
 Friend: yup.

Does he need to do some "man processing"?
 me: I said...lol
 ( friends name) said.....she thinks...blah, blah blah...too long without intimacy perhaps and spanking too
  I didn't word it like that
  trust me
 
 me: anyway and that I have been left in a state of anger
  he said it made sense
and then I said I felt like the during the spanking I was a science experiment
  and he defended it saying that we needed to try stuff out without the boys around
  which made me more angry...inside
  I said..YES but that was not the sole purpose
 you should have 'experimented' and moved on
  he said ' So what you are saying is you need another spanking?"
  I giggled in response
..most of this time he was holding me but I was pressed up against his chest..my arms between us
  then he moved on and said...well we'll get to that on Friday
  FRIDAY..!!!!
  I said "well good luck with that"
  and left
  then he came after me...I said...something about not listening to me at all
he said - "well I didn't say anything about not being intimate until Friday"
  ...ahhhhhhhhhh YEAH...because your angry wife is REALLY going to WANT to have sex
  grrrrrr....
Honestly!!
*****************************************************about 10 minutes later*********************************


 ME He was leaving for work and said..." Well we can talk tonight when I get home"
  I said " About what?"
"I am confused. You seem to be angry"
 


 

 
 I said..."Why would you be confused about that? I already TOLD you I was angry"






                  ....again...I ...know
  

he said..." Well we don't have to wait until Friday if that is helpful"
  SIGH
                  
Gawd...I'm such a b*tch
 

Friend: I'm honestly trying to not grin at you!
 me: lol
  I'm sorry?
 Friend: When the two of you get a little fire in your bellies you get something done!

me: great...now we are going to be the fighting couple...perfect!
  lol
 Friend: Nah.
  Just when needed.


Anyway, that was Tuesday.  We didn't talk last night as he came home too late.  We didn't talk about it ...whatever the heck 'it' is today because our son had a 'procedure' done this morning and I had to be near his side for several hours..actually I'm not sure why we didn't talk then, as our son was 'out'.

I can tell you that I still have this ridiculous anger in me ...and for WHAT stupid reason ?  I never have anger like this.  It makes no sense to me what so ever.  I don't feel it towards the boys or inanimate objects, just Barney.

I seriously think I'm going to come up with a distancing scale so I can just scream tell a number to Barney and let him how far I am away from him at the moment...


I Wilmafied this pain scale one...

Has anyone else had this happen?  Suggestions?  Because I'm not sure what good communication is doing at the moment. Well you may argue that we actually aren't communicating ...but ...  I seriously can't figure this one out.



Monday, January 28, 2013

Addicted to Crack- A Photo Essay

 Yup you heard me correctly.  This post is going to deal with the addiction to crack.  Most of you out there suffer from it.  Most of you don't like to admit it.  But you know it is  true.





O GOD NO ! NO !  NO!  Not that kind! ( um but to each his own )





A nice side affect of ttwd.  Cracking the walls that we have built around ourselves...but it is painful, and I'm not addicted to the cracking feeling by any means NO!



 This is a little closer.  
                  ( but only because once you've had a 'hit' of crack...you're hooked)

But still NO



Bear with me for a moment.  TTWD is as unique to all of us and unique as all of us are.  But one common thread I have seen weave through the blanket of submission is the opening of Pandora's Box







Annnnnnnnnnnd....then the desire to slam it shut again!




Basically I am saying the type of Crack we are addicted to is this



Admit it ...there is nothing to be ashamed of..( I hope)  I'm not saying you LIKE  it...although some of you do.  I'm saying it makes you more settled.  Keeps your head on straight.


  




( yeouch by the way!)





Without it you start turning into 'this' girl





Or if you are me this little lady





Oops not her...


HER


Yup...you're addicted to the CRACK ( sound and what follows) if you find after a while, you NEED  to feel your HoH's 'connection'.  You need a 'hit' ( pun intended) Without it you get the Dts.  


You get edgy and start doing things that 'poke the bear ' even if you don't realize it



Or perhaps you are more mature about it



  1. Or not




    Perhaps you are a casual user. You only  enjoy the affects after, and feel no  need to find your supplier for a 'hit' 

    Regardless... you feel reborn after your Crack

    Don't be ashamed.  Come out of the closet...or in some houses go into it.  Seek out your pusher.  He's there to help you with your Crack addiction




    ( Hope I put a smile on your Crack addicted faces today!)

    Love Willie

    Ps.  Anyone seen my pusher?  It has been  almost 2 weeks !  I've practically set the damn bear on fire!



    ( Grrr...for some reason the comment section is WAY down there..Blogger is driving me crazy today!)



Sunday, January 27, 2013

Big Hugs




 I know that right now many of you are experiencing a great deal of pain, and are struggling. The above statement is so hard to believe when you are standing in the storm- hopefully today you will see at least one dancing little duck to make you smile.

Big Big Hugs...
Willie

Thursday, January 24, 2013

I lied. Confessed . Then Lied in the Confession.

 I know right?  Okay, let me explain.  This is actually more for Barney's sake, but I am hoping against all odds I can use my  voice for this- as some of you know that is a big deal for me.

Disclaimer time





 What I am about to discuss it not easy for me at all.  I feel  that I should mention ahead of time that I am not blaming the events or people in my past, just perhaps explaining how I got here.  I am no expert, so I could be way off base anyway .

For quite some time now I have been 'off'.  I had the opportunity to blame Horror Moans for a while. The time has past so to speak to use that line of thinking, and yet I'm still off.  Besides Horror Moans make me anxious not weepy.  I know, when HAVEN'T I been weepy in the past 4 months?

Initially I was going to write a post about the Little Voice  versus the Bully's Voice.  My heart versus my head.  I was truly wondering if I could be submissive.  Don't get me wrong, I am still an angel * wink * , and the outward acts of submission come natural to me, as well, it is practically in my 'job' description.  I also know these things are important to Barney, because whenever I appear to be 'off' he jumps into action and takes over my 'chores'.  To me this says that he feels these 'little' things I do are an expression of my love.  So in that way I have no problem.  The Little Voice is actually very strong in these areas.  " Light the candles he loves that", " Iron his shirts, so he doesn't have to"  I know you would think that I should be ironing, but he said," no, no rule, I have time if you don't want to.'  This week I messed up.  One day I plain forgot.  I forgot things that I did even before ttwd!  I normally make the coffee, I'm up first, always.  I take out his cup, and cream. If he is working during the day I make a breakfast/snack type bag for him to take.  I make sure he has clothes ironed and ready to go....all of it forgotten.  Barney wasn't angry or anything, he merely remarked that if I wasn't going to iron his shirts to let him know, because he had gotten used to them being ready.  I explained to him I honestly thought he had a yellow dress shirt ( which he apparently wore the day before and I didn't even notice- even more odd because it is one of my favourites on him).  I also thought he was working an hour later than he was that day.  He said he understood, as he usually does work later on that day of the week.

This all bothered me though.  I explained to a friend that I felt like I was hung over ( I know another booze reference..go with the normal disclaimer here).  You know the type of  hang over where you just had maybe one too many drinks the night before and there are cob webs in your head ?  You walk around in a haze, doing what needs to be done ( oops okay maybe not that particular day) but the effort is minimal.  No one else around you seems to notice- or so you tell yourself.  You keep talking mini naps in the hopes that THIS time when you wake up your head will be clear.  She yelled at me ( well in type )  " YES !  the FOG !!"  Okay so at least this part of me was 'normal'. I continued in ' the fog' most of the week.  I stepped up the visual submission-> house in good order by the time Barney came home, dinner in the oven, candles lit, music on, hair the way he likes it, normal clothes on not comfy clothes, his drink ready to be made....BUT distant hug when he came in.


What in the world was wrong with me?  The weather has been flipping freezing here, like most of  Central/Eastern North America.  My husband has been heading out in it every day this week not only to go to work but leaving several times in the morning before his normal departure time to drive our boys to school--all 3 have different start times!  And yet,  I can't melt into his arms when he comes through the door?  What message are you sending to him? This cycle has been on repeat since our 'reconnection' last week.  Yup pretty much started the next day actually.

So fast forward to the first lie.  Like I said I had been weepy all week.  HUGE blow out from Heir to the Throne, apparently every mistake he has been making lately- or dumb choices as I put it ( my bad)- he is not owning up to.  The fact that he is grounded totally sidelined because it was my fault he doesn't have use of the laptop.  I apparently call him dumb constantly ( I don't..but I also know how his mind works, he hears a word and changes it around ).  He went on about never wanting to share anything with me....Barney finally came upstairs to tell him to watch his tone. At this point I couldn't give a flying leap about his tone it was what he was saying that hurt.  I won't even justify his comments with points to the contrary- but as I have mentioned before he and I are both dyslexic so his entire primary learning was on me.  I knew how to reach him.  We were two peas in a pod so understanding him was easy for me- we WERE very close.  This was more than a surface wound to me...(I know he's a teen and he knows how to push buttons).  While Barney and Heir to the Throne were in the hall discussing not referring to me as " HER", I was behind our bedroom door .....crying. 

The Little Voice said to go to Barney.  This is what we both need.  This is what ttwd is about.  I couldn't.  I was frozen.  For over an hour I cried.  This time I wasn't even pining for Barney to come and check on me.  Why would he?  I've never reacted that way before.  I wasn't deep in thought, aside from thinking of the hours I put in with our son in the early years- I suppose justifying my hurt.  My Little Voice kept talking, and yet I didn't move.

Barney came to bed later and asked if I was okay- I'm not a pretty crier.  I swear I am allergic to my own tears!  I shook my head no.  He asked what was wrong..I just said our son's name.  He kissed my hair and made some comment, and that was it.  I'm not upset with that.  

Last night when Barney came home from work, dinner was ready to go.    I had moved the laptop from the 'cozy' basement into the sunny living room yesterday and that seemed to help my mood during the day.  However things fell apart once he walked through the door.  He was earlier than normal, I should have been happy- only I wasn't.  I was in the middle of making chocolate frosting for a cake I had made for dessert- it wasn't going well.  The kitchen wasn't the way I wanted it to be when he came home....he didn't care about any of that. 

 He informed me that he didn't have the day off that I asked him to take off.  I have to go for Jury selection ( I know right?  pffft....I should just bring them a blog post- problem solved).  I am extremely nervous.  The likelihood that I will be chosen is slim, I realize that.  It is the thought of being responsible for someone else's fate that doesn't sit well with me.  I was once a witness in a court case...a key witness, and I hated every minute of it.  ( Sidenote I did get a chuckle from the Crown Attorney and a thumbs up from the Constable on case with one of my answers---after the prosecuting attorney ticked me off with his condescending tone and line of questioning---Barney did the palm to the forehead move in the background *wink*)

Barney then disappeared into the basement, never to return.  He usually sits with me while I finish dinner.  That and another emotional trigger had me running for the hills so to speak.  I ate a piece of cake, dished out 4 plates, and left.  I ran a bath for myself.  It was deep and hot. I told myself I was cold and this would warm me up to lay out in the tub.  Only I didn't lay out.  I sat in deep bath, bubbles all around, knees to my chest, tears streaming down my face.

I knew what was wrong with me.  I was/am scared to tell my husband something.  I am afraid it might be hurtful to him.  That is part of it, initially, but moreover what it says about me.  I have read such beautiful posts from women who have been married much longer than I.  How they were perhaps 'shrews' for many years in their marriage.  How now they see their husbands in an entirely different light.  How they practically shout from the hill tops their love for them.  I don't know if I will ever be that person.  Don't get me wrong here, I do love my husband...I just don't know if I will ever be able to be that 'free'.  To not be so reserved.



I grew up in a home where I was most definitely loved.  I have come to just realize that my Mother showed her love by doing things for us.  I don't remember being cuddled- not to say I wasn't.  The first time I remember my Mom telling me " I love you"  was about a year after my Dad died.  It came at the end of a phone conversation.  I was shocked.  Now I'm not saying she didn't say it to be before that day, but 21 years later, I remember this phone call.

While I was in the tub these things started coming to me.  I was the same way.  I 'do' things for people that I love all the time.  I step out of my comfort zone to help my friends and family, sacrificing a great deal at times to do so.  What I don't do is say " I love you"  My cousin will phone and will end her conversation specifically with that.  I will respond " love ya too"  but even that is not flowing so easily.  

I then remembered this horrible incident.  When we brought Heir to the Throne home, we of course were ecstatic like any new parents.  But I had to get up the courage to tell my new born baby, who couldn't understand me anyway, that I loved him.  I mean, saying, "Mommy loves you" was one thing...but I had to actually practice.. I. Love. You.  Isn't that truly awful?  WHAT is wrong with me?  Afraid to say specific words. So if I had to practice it until it became 'natrural' with the most adorable creature in the world-the one God gave us just for the sole purpose of loving...how on earth am I going to be able to shout it from the hill top that I love my husband ?  More importantly am I going to ever get there...to feel free with my emotions?   It is not a great feeling.  

I suppose it is 'great' that I know the source of my angst, and knowledge is power.  That being said, it has me more sad than I ever remember being.  I have been not opening up to my husband because of this?  I am protecting myself from what exactly?  I WANT to be that woman.  I guess I know how to try to get there..by opening up to him.  It isn't an easy thing for me at all.  This part of ttwd is NOT natural for me...

Off to the confession, and the lie.  After my bath I went into our room.  I needed to be alone, well sort of . I had planned to go find Barney later.  I wasn't entirely sure if I was going to 'share' but the not so Little Voice told me to seek him out.  He beat me to it.  He asked me if I was sliding down the slope.  I told him no, I was just tired.  LIE.  Well I was tired but that is most likely from all the hidden crying I had been doing for a week.  He eventually left.  I kept putting a time on when I would seek him out, but always came up with an excuse not to go.  The biggest, and perhaps most legitimate excuse was that I didn't want an audience.

Later in bed, when I snuggled into his side as he watched some ridiculous show, I warred with myself.  I knew that I had to tell him I lied.  That I was sliding very rapidly down that slope.  I was stubbornly holding back.  Eventually I found my words.  After a great deal of silence and arm rubbing on his part, he told me he was happy I told him.  

" Do you know why you are sliding down this slope ?"

" No"  Another Lie.   

In my defense, I was going to tell him....in a bit.  I just needed more time.  I mean how does one explain to your husband that you are afraid you are incapable of freely loving someone?  I fought back my tears for a good half hour laying on his chest.  I never did manage to get the words to cross my lips.  I eventually fell asleep due to sheer exhaustion.

This morning Barney told me I looked better.  Happier.  I just smiled.  I said " A bit perhaps"


Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Wilma Has Left The Building

Last week was a long and quite frankly horrible week.  Sharing the nuts and bolts of the break down between Barney and myself, I am still unsure about that.  I am still raw.   I managed to suffer quite the severe emotional friction burn.  A great deal of it was most like brought on by me, dragging myself across the carpet repeatedly  but the pain is real nevertheless. I think I may just need some more time to lick my wounds.

 This was me...is me.  Not in the sense of measuring our Dd dynamic against others we share with in ttwd.  Although that often does seem to be the concern.  I measure where we have come or not within the context of our own relationship.  BUT the reason I chose the Stanely Power Lock tape measure really isn't that literal.

 I was going along in my little tape measure way, letting more and more 'tape' out, ( forget about the measuring part...just focus on the metal tape leaving the confines of the case)  Some days several inches would be let out.   When I got to a place where I thought I couldn't let anymore out.  I would put on the lock, and wait it out.  Somedays the tape would retreat a bit.  I didn't take advantage of the little clip at the end of the measure.  The one where you hang it over the edge to hold on too.  Somewhere along the line in the past week, I released the lock and all of that tape I had exposed snapped and recoiled back into the case.  Just like the tape measure it flew back at warp speed and anyone within striking distance risked being cut by its sharp edges as it made its journey home.  As awful as that sounds, the worst part came when I engaged to Power Lock AFTER the tape was inside.  Effectively making it very difficult for the tape to start to be used again..  Sure someone can come along and try to pull the tape out, even with their now injured hand, but it is almost fruitless if the lock is engaged.

We all know the perils of Horror Moans.  The lack of them for some.  The excess of them for others.  The changing 'volumes' of them in others still.  For many of us they cause a great storm. Society likes to dismiss this by simply saying  "PMS"...or pfft Peri Menopause or even better just " WOMEN !".  The reason behind it maybe the Horror Moans but the destruction they leave in their wake is not any less real. The pain on the inside is far greater before the explosion-like a white head pimple(- happy I chose not to include a picture to go along with that analogy?- you're welcome).  Often the 'symptoms' are there under the surface long before those around us see it.  Often we don't recognize this about ourselves until it is too late....or by that time frankly we don't give a ________.

I have never really been an angry hormonal woman, and presently Barney is not here to dispute this, so we shall go with that!  I am more anxiety ridden, in the sense that every one and indeed even inanimate objects are against me.  I sound like a laugh riot don't I ?  I haven't really shared this in the past with Barney.  I mean how does one explain the illogical line of thinking that comes with PMS to a person who doesn't experience it? I mean I KNOW it isn't true, and yet that logical voice is so very soft spoken during this time.

Barney and I have touched on this since starting ttwd.  I also mentioned to him that PMS seems more out of control now since starting ttwd.  Turns out 9 out of 10 PMSing Dd wives agree!  Perhaps Premenstrual Syndrome  should cue a different PMS...premenstrual spanking? to break down the barriers.  Who knows ? What I do know that Horror Moans, tied up in a nice little package with the emotional 'bliss' that was the previous 2 weeks, had my tape measure recoiling and locking shut.

Once it was locked shut and 'safe'  new tactic was employed.  The " I don't care " tactic.  Oh....this one is very dangerous.  I am not talking about the I don't care, I'm in a huff....throw my stuff to the ground tactic.  The honest to goodness,  I don't care anymore.  Void of emotion.  No anger.  No hurt.  No sadness.  No longing.  Nothing.

This is where I settled on Thursday. After my previous post, I ran the full gamut of emotion.  Not true actually, I didn't hit contentment and bliss that is for sure.  I was hurt which always turns quite quickly to anger.  I stayed in that rut for a very long time.  Every once and a while Barney would test to see if the lock was on the tape measure still, but never really tugged.  Eventually a Cold War settled in our house.  This has never happened to us in all the years we have been married.  Yes we have avoided each other for an hour or two.  Yes we have most definitely had declared Cold War on issues..but not each other.  Never.

During this " I don't care phase" I could see glimpses of this girl...hear her quiet little voice.


I couldn't always hear what she was saying.  Or rather I wasn't listening to her.  This woman was blocking my view



( don't be fooled by the cute bird)


  I went to Barney and told him I no longer wanted to do TTWD.  I meant it.  It was not an attention seeking action

Barney " Where are you going"

W " Upstairs why?"

B- "Well I thought you might want to talk about this"

W- " I did.........2 days ago"

With that I left and basically scrubbed the grout out from between the tiles on my kitchen floor.  Barney quickly decided he needed to do something in the adjoining room. The tiny voice tried to reason with me.  The bully kept telling me I didn't care-that I had to protect myself.  Somehow that little voice inside weaseled her way to my eardrum.  Telling me that Barney didn't need to be in the dining room he was looking for an opening. I went downstairs with Barney to talk

For the most part the bully won out.  My brain was much louder than my heart.  I was like a dog with a bone.  Every time there was an explanation, I took it as an excuse. Weeks of frustration and hurt were guarding my heart and they had formed a 'nice' barrier.  I ended up reading something to Barney that an HoH had said to me in chat via his wife:

.


If he could tell him one thing it would be to step outisde his comfort zone, no matter how hard it was.
To do it every day, force himself.


me: Barney knows that...he keeps say he knows he has too...but ...

HOH via wife again-  B/c the response they get from us--the positive response is so great and it makes the next time easier.





We went around and around for a good 2 hours almost. I was calm but firm in my counters. I few times I lay my head on the back of the couch, stared at the ceiling and signed. We were no longer doing ttwd, so Wilma had left the building. Barney was dealing with ___________ now, and she wasn't giving an inch.




Although we didn't fight much in our previously life prior to ttwd, we were growing a part. I knew that eventually ending ttwd would end our marriage. Not now, or in the immediate future, but down the line. We had a taste, however small of how life can be with ttwd. I couldn't fathom going ahead knowing what could have been. That was brought up in our discussion. Also stepping outside of the comfort zone ( not just talking about spanking here) and taking a chance, a chance that you're wife feels might work, or staying snug and knowing it will most likely fail.




Too much pressure? You may scoff at me if you want, but this was honest communication, and in my mind we were done with ttwd anyway. There were eyes filled with tears during this discussion...but not mine. Cool _____ had taken over. In my mind  I had done as much work as I thought I could at the time. I didn't feel I could give anymore. I felt that we got to where we were because of me, and that when things became difficult and it was his turn to be uncomfortable, he woulnd't. If he truly couldn't, well then there was no point either. I expressed that doing nothing was worse than making a mistake. Sometimes the doing something was merely saying he was thinking about how to go about things. Communication


Some may see this as impatience on my part, but in the same breath say to another that the HoH dominance feeds the submission.  We both felt that the latter is where we were at.  That the patience is there,  but help is required in some areas- for both of us.

I was called away for a few minutes upstairs. I was in the kitchen after fixing myself something to drink. Barney came to me hand out stretched and said




" We need to take care of this right now"



Huh? I looked at my ice cubes in my drink, and then at the clock.




" But # 2 could be home in 20 minutes"




" That is why we have to do this now. The boys will be home for 3 days and then I am working 8 more in a row."



I stood there for a moment. The bully brain was silenced. The heart voice present.



" If you don't take his hand now, you are truly giving up.  I could be silenced forever and your marriage really could be over down the line"

I knew that the decision I had to make was the choice between the preservation of self, or the preservation of us.  If I didn't go with him I would be doing exactly what I accused him of-- Not choosing us.

I went.  What followed was the hardest hand spanking I ever received. It wasn't unbearable,but this certainly was no warm up! Barney never spanks with just his hand, as he says it ends up hurting his hand, before my bum.  I mentioned to him that it seemed like he had been holding out on me all this time with his hand spankings....actually it was more like..

" Hey Ouch!  Somebody's been holding out...ouch"

" Yeah, and there's a whole lot more in me to give too"

( giggle)  then this happened

" And in the future....I would appreciate it if you didn't roll your eyes at me during a conversation"  rapid fire smacks

Now I could have argued the point that we were 'broken' up from ttwd at the time, but I was just happy to hear it.

Things are better, how could they not be compared to last week?  There is more for me to do more for us to do..  There is more for me to share about  what I've discovered about myself.......perhaps another day.


Monday, January 14, 2013

Panic at The Disco

I know this might seem like a total switch in conversation and emotion from my last 3 posts, but I believe that is how I got here.  After reading many comments on my last post, I feel I'm not going to be too liked by expressing my frustration.

I am very close to throwing in the towel.  Yes, honestly.  I know we all go through this, and this may seem like some sort of temper tantrum, rebellion or means of exercising some control.  Perhaps it is all three.  I know once again that I am not unique.  I also know that the things I am about to express will illicit anger and frustration from some, understanding in the form of ' I have so been there' from others. Multiple comments on communication, patience and understanding the other side from even more.  That is what we do in this community.  Understand and try to coax others in the direction that is most beneficial for their relationship. Disclaimer has been posted now for the nitty gritty.


Last week I was on the edge.  Quite literally.  Things were awful and I indeed shut down.  Through examination I came to one conclusion as to why I wouldn't let Barney in.  After more reflection because, there was something in me that I still couldn't shake, I began to realize something else.  This feeling and determination to 'get through this alone' quite possibly steamed from the feeling that I was already feeling alone. I know a common comment from me.  If you think you have heard it often enough, imagine how many times I have expressed this to Barney.

Yes, I did give Barney my letter of appreciation last week.  What did I expect from it in return?  Nothing I believe, perhaps a bit more closeness.  Many of you commented on how you loved our 'bathroom' moment. Honesty, I was perplexed by this.  There was no romantic editing in my post.  There was no censoring. No fade to black and leave it up to your imagination as to what happened next.  Nothing happened.  We left the bathroom and he left me.  I left him.  Like nothing had happened.  Like I hadn't poured my heart out.  What did I want?  Perhaps that he yank me into the next room to make mad passionate love?  I'm not sure, but I do know an emptiness crept in. He had the next several days off and still no closeness.  True my unraveling had already begun.

We have talked, and talked, and talked about how I need him to help me.  Am I horrible at this submissive stuff- no not really.  Signs of appreciation are there.  Little things are always present.  Am I always present?  No.  Ttwd began as a means to bring us closer.  I. like many of you, am a hardened shell, with a gooey centre much like those Cadbury Cream Eggs.  Unwrapping the egg from its foil helps access the exterior and it may melt due to its surrounding, but there is also another effective method  to expose the filling-take a bite.



From the start distancing  has been one of our biggest issues.  Sometimes, at the risk of pointing fingers here, the distancing arrives due to hurt feelings experienced by me.  We all know, and many have expressed better than I, the rawness of emotions in this thing we do.  Just like my little egg picture up there I can replace the broken pieces of foil around the exposed gooey center but it is no longer protected as well as it was before.  This is the point correct?  That even in distancing, covering up, retreating, there is still an easier access to the heart now.  About the bite.  Sometimes I just need Barney to expose more of the center for me.   To nibble away a bit at the side, so more filling will be exposed.  Again this is not a new concept we have talked about this.  I have asked for help.  He has agreed to do so.  My immediate reaction to hurt, stress, uncertainty is to rewrap the egg.  His natural response to this...wait until it passes and see if filling will leak through the foil.

Well there is my issue.  All of this happened before ttwd to some degree.  Advantage no raw feelings.  No longing for help that was promised, I knew I had to do it on my own, so I tried...never succeeding much, but I wasn't disappointed from the help that never came, as it wasn't expected.





To put it another way, last week with the emotions surrounding my Dad, I was hanging off a cliff.  Barney later mentioned after reading my post, that he knew I wanted to do this on my own, so he gave me space.  The rub there is we have discussed numerous times how this is not beneficial for me, and in turn for us.  As recently as Christmas, and THAT melt down we talked about how I need him to come and pull me up, despite the fact that I believe I am, I am NOT an experienced climber.  I need him to walk over to the edge even if he is unsure of his footing.  I require his strength when I am not strong more than anything.

Just like the consent to spank given during a time when perhaps one is not willing to submit is established at the beginning, this has been established.  The need for me to be pulled into an embrace, even if I look like this guy




Because despite appearing as if my quills will shoot up at any moment, inside is him, is this guy...wanting, yearning to be coaxed out.




For the most part this would take so little effort.  But yes it would still take some effort, and trust.  Trust, the thing we as Dd wives have placed in our husbands- or are told to over and over again.  Yet it is almost taboo for us to say that we require it from them as well. Trust us in 'peace time' when we express what we needed in a difficult patch.  Trust that next time you should try it.


So far I have talked about candy, rocks and animals....where the heck is the Disco? Oh yes I know you are all just dying to get down with your bad John Travolta selves!



Honestly being at a disco with a strobe light is exactly how I feel.  All the kind words of encouragement for the baby steps we have taken do give me strength to continue.  The disco analogy comes from some of those comments, like a switch has been turned on in Barney.  The thing is he controls the switch and he is turning it on and off.  I am expected to continue to find my way to him in the dark.  I am fumbling, and banging into things.  Life around is loud and obnoxious at times when it it supposed to be fun. The light flickers I step forward, but all the while he stays in place.




I am struggling to move yet it doesn't appear from my vantage point across the room that he is moving toward me.  The strobe continues to flicker, sending me a little light, but by the time my eyes adjust again and focus, it is gone. If he is calling out to me I can't hear it over everything around me.  I really want to get to him, but without any help the only safe option appears to sit at an empty table and hope that he decides it is worth the walk to meet me half way.





***************************

We have talked since this post was written.  Barney read it before I posted it.  We are still trying to hash out what exactly we require from each other. At the moment we appear to be at an impasse. Old habits are resurfacing, as well as coping methods to deal with them  It hasn't worked for years, or ever, and it won't work now- and yet here we are. 

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Reluctance and Reason Behind It?

Goodness where to start ?   Once more I am truly overwhelmed at the support I received on a post I actually had no intention of posting.  I started writing my previous post to see if I could figure out what the heck was the matter with me.  Not only did so many of you take the time to comment, the majority of the comments were WilmaSized!  I am truly humbled by your generosity of time, thoughts and concern.  In addition to the comments you left on my blog,  many of you emailed, google chatted or even phoned to see how I was making out.  I am touched truly touched.

I had a difficult time posting my previous post because in a way I had an extreme amount of guilt surrounding my feelings.  It has been so long since my father had passed away that I felt almost unjust in my reaction this year.  I was truly blessed with a wonderful father, and a spectacular family growing up, (um, might have given you a different opinion if you asked me when I was 16).  I also felt this guilt due to the fact that even my own father said his life ending was not a tragedy.  Therefore I should no longer mourn for him.  He was not robbed of his life.  He himself said he had led a full life.

I am aware  that I most likely will get comments concerning my above paragraph, but that is what ran through my mind, when I was focused enough to have a clear thought.  I do suspect, as I mentioned in my previous post that ttwd brought all of my emotions surrounding last week to the surface.  And truthfully, I absolutely detested it.  I couldn't  figure out a way to function, in quiet times, with these overwhelming emotions.


I took all of your advice to heart.  I reflected and pondered the possibilities of each suggestion.  I felt your embrace through your written words.  All of this helped me.  I want to thank Catrinka,  a new blogger who has a wonderful writing style.  She wrote a post entitled Empathy ( click here to read it), sharing her journey, with grief and ttwd. I am most grateful to her.  

My emotions were, well crushing?  Paralyzing perhaps?  They were flowing out of me at warp speed and I couldn't control them- something I had always been able to do in the past.


There was also another emotion mixed in with the sorrow, and guilt.  ( Looking back I think the guilt might have been my way of trying to surpress the sorrow...didn't work worth a darn...sigh)....fear.  I was so fearful if I let go.  This time I had envisioned a box, much like the one above. If I let it empty, what would be next?  This has been something I have obviously held onto for so long.  The grief had become part of who I am.  There was not a fear of loosing myself, I could see the importance of moving past this.  I'm not expressing myself properly here.  I suppose I thought expelling THIS would be the ultimate in exposure.  In vulnerability   Yet there was also this feeling


The feeling that this was a new level.  The feeling that once this box was emptied, that the ones below might contain amazing gifts, but some will contain contents I would rather not look at.  I expressed this fear to several people.  One who, said, after many questions,  ( and much confusion on my part)



You don't need to be...just let your heart stay open, let God creep into this painful place and love you a little bit.
It's one of those sort of neat things...you don't really have to think about it...just open hands if that makes sense.


I don't think it is any secret to anyone that I am Catholic, I have mentioned it many times.  I was raised it, and today I sit here as a 'Pick and Choose Catholic' .  I participate more out of tradition at times.  I am more spiritual as opposed to religious.  Since starting ttwd, I have found myself thinking, and reflecting and actually asking for guidance more than I ever have before in my life.  ( Sorry I don't mean to scare anyone off with that)  Does it work?  I'm still here chugging along...but I don't know.  I have found peace in various situations over the past 3 months.  Fear not, I am not going to change my blog, I am just being honest .

Anyway I was laying in bed on Friday night, Barney was at work.  Once again I found myself staring out at the trees in our back yard.  Over and over again as the tears streamed down my face, the word mine, kept popping into my head.  It finally occurred to me my reluctance to share, or my stubbornness to go this alone.  Every child has a different relationship with their parents. Each relationship is unique.  Hopefully  every child feels their unique bond with their parent- despite being one of many, you know  your bond is different.


Grief is unique.  Everyone deals with it and expresses it differently.  It became clear to me this was my reason.  My grief for the loss of my father was unique.  Although I shared the same reason for my grief with my siblings,  some of you , with Barney, the grief is unique to me.  I have been holding on to this, because it is the last relationship I have with him that is exclusive.  Our last connection.  I feel this way, because of my feeling of loss  for him and only him.  Letting go doesn't mean forgetting him.  That is not what this was about.  Sharing my emotions with my husband seemed to be trying to pull him into something that was between myself and my (feelings surrounding) my dad.  I'm sure to some of you this makes no sense.  I have no other way of explaining it, and I am sorry for that.

Barney came home after I was in bed.  We did not talk.  My stupid  little dog decided that night to join the conspiracy with the rest of the universe to ensure I have a horrible nights sleep.  Once again I found myself, with HER on the couch and not in bed with my husband.  It is a long story - with a smart dog who can open the fridge, and teenage boys that in a hunger haze forget to put the child lock back on the door.  This resulted in a poor nights sleep and coupled with a husband that had to work in the morning, there was no room for conversation.

When alone I was still very tearful throughout the day, yet I was no longer paralyzed or fearful.  I was begininng to become more analytical.  The box seemed to not be emptying, but slowly the particles of emotions that were streaming out of it were settling.  Some, perhaps in the box, some outside.  It was a calming feeling that began to come over me as the day progressed. 

I didn't have an opportunity until late that night to talk to Barney due to a social commitment I had. ( Oh side note, when I was preparing to leave the party - ( only 3 drinks) a few of my girlfriends were trying to convince me to stay.  To call Barney and ask him to pick me up later-which he would have- I said, that he had to work the next day and an hour here would be fun but it wasn't fair to him, even if he did say it was okay.  One of the men announced in a booming voice - NOW THAT IS A GOOD WIFE! ...lol) 

When we arrived home, Barney told me he read my post.  He said knew that the day  was approaching. He hadn't forgot.  He also pointed out that he didn't see my behaviour as distancing, merely that I had a strong desire to figure out something on my own.   I barely moved when he was at work. He never mentioned the lack of things accomplished during the day.  There was no denying I was crying throughout the days while he was at work or during the night.  I looked horrid.  He told me that he hoped in the future that I would come to him, but if this is something that I feel I can't share with him that he understands that too.

Today is 'the' day, and aside from the odd stray tear, I am fine.  Do I feel distant ? perhaps, but I truly don't know if it is a result of the past couple of weeks. On Saturday if Barney had been home, I do believe I would have turned to him, but that has passed.  The particles are tucked away, back in the box, and there is no way to force them out.  I do feel disappointed in a way that I couldn't allow myself this break through.  Perhaps as some of you suggested I am not ready yet.  Perhaps it may never happen.  Perhaps it has- although I doubt that.  There is a blockage in there, I can feel it..  Maybe there always will be.


 Time will tell I suppose...as ttwd does seem to be the adventure of a lifetime

Friday, January 11, 2013

Darn You Ttwd and Your, Your ..FEELINGS !


     TTwd….take it back!  Sometimes that is how I feel.  I know I am not alone in this. I am not talking about how this relates to mine and Barney’s relationship.  That is chugging along
  It certainly is no utopia, don’t misunderstand, but things between us are ..well months ago there were things between us.  Things I didn’t realize were there to some degree.  Now there are less things between us so that is good. 

The reason why I say take back ttwd has nothing to do with spankings, or rules, or not meeting expectations- either from my HoH or  myself.  I say this because of  the ability to feel.  Sometimes it is  inconvenient to say the least.

Long before another blogger shared her pain with the loss of her father, I was in a place I hadn’t been in for quite some time.- wrapped in the security blanket of suppression.  For anyone who has lost someone they care about the holidays can be bitter sweet.  It has been a very long time since I lost my someone special, and last year was the first year that the day came and went and I didn’t take note.   The thought of that years ago would have frightened me to no end.  Oddly, last year I took comfort in this.

 This year however, was a totally different situation.  Some may argue that because it has been in the subject of some blogs as of late,- that this has brought it to the forefront of my mind.  In my particular case this is not so.  Within days from now will be the ‘anniversary’ of my father’s death.  I won’t keep this post up for very long as it will most likely end up having too much personal information contained in it.  (Lessen the chances of a family member or neighbour discovering me down the line.)

I was the ripe old age of 20 when my Dad succumb to a relatively short illness with cancer.  He wasn’t feeling well in the summer of that year.  By November he was diagnosed, he had surgery in December  by the middle of January he was gone.  He was 64 years old.

 Like most 19 year olds I knew everything and the world was just waiting for me to concur it.  That  feeling lasted for a very short time.  I know many people who weren’t as fortunate as I, to have had their father as long as even I did.  So I am not going to sit and talk about having my brother walk me down the aisle, or my husband not knowing half of who I am.  One doesn’t need a very active imagination to know what milestones were not shared between us.

This was the time I believe where I started stuffing emotions down.  I became so good at mentally switching gears when I felt sad that I began to even scare myself.  I don’t remember anything about the last Christmas I spent with my Dad, the good- bye as I was leaving to travel back here, and I remember very few things about  my Dad’s funeral.  This is very unusual for me as I can remember things that happened when I was 3 years old.

I remember the phone call that he had died ( it was very sudden).  I remember my journey home and my eldest sister greeting me-holding me and crying, saying

 “ I’m sorry peanut that you didn’t have him for very long”

I remember my response, “ Yeah, but I had him better”

“ Yes you did”

In my original composition, this is the point where I started to tell multiple Wilma and Dad stories.  I’ll include them at the end for anyone who craves a little poorly written light reading, but for those who chose not you will be we able to skip to the comments ( or not)

To say I have been in a ‘funk’  lately is understated.  A guilty funk in some regards.  After all my Dad said when he was diagnosed that the coming of the close of his life was not a tragedy.  It was life.  He was fortunate enough to see all of his children become adults.  He had led a very happy and fulfilling life.  He had very few regrets.  The only regret he has was that he didn’t kiss his sons more.  The girls would come home for a visit, or leave to go back to their homes and the greetings always included a hug and kiss.  The boys received a hand shake.
He was at peace with his departure.  I wasn’t.  I think there is one inaccurate point in his statement, he didn’t see all of his kids become adults.  Twenty is not an adult.

Anyway, bad ttwd wife, I have been crying in the shadows for two weeks.  I know I am ‘supposed’  to go to Barney.  I just don’t WANT to.  I don’t want to share.  This is mine, and I don’t want to share.  Internally I have been searching, and searching for a wall to hide behind, but darn it ttwd, you’ve removed them!  I was  laying in bed last night, envisioning by insides empty, with a ball bearing floating around my chest cavity- searching for something to stop it.  A bumper …  Nothing. 

The night before Barney wasn’t feeling well, I jumped at the opportunity to sleep on the couch.  I didn’t realize it but I wanted to be alone.  Last night I wanted to do the same, but physically I climbed into bed beside him.  I didn’t fall asleep on his chest.  I rolled on my side, fetal position-tears streaming down my face.  My stomach convulsed, almost as if I were vomiting.  My chin vibrated, while I tried to stifle my sobs.

I could feel my husband’s presence behind me. He didn’t try to reach out to me, but I could feel his frustration.  For once, since we started ttwd, I was not moved by this.  I had no desire for touch.  The craving for my husband’s touch was gone for the moment.  I don’t know why I have such a strong desire to ‘go through’ this alone. 

Barney had never met my father.  He did know me when my Dad passed away.  There was many of times months after my Dad died that I would run past his area of our work place to the women’s washroom to sit on the floor and cry.  We worked with another man, a friend, who was once my roommate, Hugh, and he would always stop whatever he was doing and chase after me- right into the ladies room.  A year later he was killed.  Barney and I were together then. I showed up at his house in the middle of the night after I found out about Hugh’s accident.  Yet I still can’t turn to him now.  Perhaps because it has been so long?  I am not sure.  I really don’t think it is that.  I just- I want to…heck I don’t know what I want.  I am distancing .


At the grocery store today, in the cereal aisle, I suddenly wanted Barney.  I wanted his arms I wanted to breakdown, and sob uncontrollably.  Initially, one would think it an odd place for a mental breakdown, but the grocery store is always hard for me.  I see ‘little old men’ and it makes my heart ache.  Ache for something I never had to opportunity to see.  His skin didn’t thin.  He didn’t have liver spots, or complain of the aches and pains of old age.( I know that sounds odd for me to say when he passed away at 64).  My parents did not have one year together alone in 39 years of marriage in their house.  For a few years now I have been able to go to the grocery store with very few thoughts like this. 

I suspect that you will say, there indeed is a wall within me, and it cracked a bit when I was at the store.  That I should embrace my need for my husband- the desire for his touch in this is there.  I clicked the switch.  By the time I returned home, I was distant again. 

The fact of the matter is, I . Don’t. Want. To. Feel. This.  For 21 years I have been able to allow just a bit out .  This is like I’ve sprung a leak or something.  Side note, has anyone else out there noticed that sad tears actually burn the cheek, but not happy tears, or even tears of anger?


********Memories********
My Dad was 44 when I was born.  To say I was a surprise would be an understatement.  My next sibling was 8 years older, and there were no missed pregnancy in between.  All of their friend had kids  that were at least as old as my brother.  Most were teenagers.  I was the belle of the neighbourhood ( yes, yes that explains a lot I know).

 My Mom had finally began to retrieve a bit of her life back, outside of the home when she found out she was pregnant with me.  Later in life I asked her if she had wanted to jump off of the refrigerator when she found out she was pregnant again…her diplomatic response “  welllllllllllllll ". ( Lol.)  Anyway my Dad made it easier for her to pursue activities by taking me everywhere with him.  I remember standing at the front door waving with my Dad above me holding the screen open in the dead of winter because Saturday Mommy went skiing and Wilma and Daddy had the entire day to themselves -my brother and my other siblings?  Pffft who cares where they were?

My Mom has some favourite stories she loves to tell over and over again.  I was ( apparently ) a very unique little girl.  I began to speak sooner than my siblings and with complete adult level sentences at an early age ( guess I dropped that habit ).  I ran before I walked…go ahead make some Dd analogy about that one.   And I had a very vivid imagination. 

My Dad would come home from work, and before he had his tie off I would be dragging him down the hallway to my bedroom.  My Mom peaked in once to see what we did everyday.  My Dad, with now loosened tie, was perched on the edge of my twin sized bed, I was sitting beside him, legs stretched out,  clutching my sock clad feet.  We were apparently staring at the side of my highboy dresser.. What happened next had my Mom stifling a laugh.  A 3 year old Wilma pointed to the side of the dresser, slapped her Dad’s knee and fell back on the bed in a fit of giggles rolling around holding her belly.  This naturally had my Dad laughing too. My Mom announced that it was dinner and I ran out of the room.  As my Dad got off of the bed she said, 

“ What was that all about?”

As he passed her in the doorway, still in his work clothes he said in a calm, matter of fact voice,

“We were watching Sesame Street on t.v. obviously”

Her all time favourite story is about a business trip we ( the 3 of us- again apparently I had siblings ?) .took  I must have been around the same age because I have seen pictures from this trip.  In the photo I am about 3, probably just before I turned 4 based on the colour of my hair.  My hair was in two pigtails that always seemed for form two perfect ringlets.  My eyes- dark brown, and forever in a state of looking like a deer caught in the headlights.  I had a swanky pair of blue polyester pants on with a red diamond pattern, or were they red with blue diamonds- just goes to show you how busy the pattern was.  Naturally they had a seam sewn down the front of the leg, to give the impression that they were pressed. ( honestly they are glorified plastic….who would press those ?) My feet were adorned with lovely little red canvas, slip on sneakers with the white rubber toe front, to protect what ?, I’m not sure exactly.  To top of this nightmare outfit from the 70s, a tight, blue turtle neck that made me look stomach like I drank a case of beer daily.

We were traveling to a place I’ll call Whitefish.  My Mom had noticed in the morning I was quite excited about our trip, but once the 3 of us got in the car my demeanor had changed.  I was sullen and a tad curt with her, and only her.  We stopped at a picnic spot near Whitefish River.  As the story goes, as the car came to a stop, I said,

“ Okay Mommy you can get out here.”

My mom didn’t really think much of it at the time, other than I was happier.  She attributed it to me finally being out of the car ( motion sickness).  Once back on the road, my attitude resumed. I apparently asked 3 more times if this is where we were dropping “ HER off”
  Anyway the next morning in the hotel room, my Dad was getting dressed in low light, and my mom was reading, apparently not to wake me.  She said the next thing she noticed was hurricane Wilma- Flinging back the bedspread, rushing to the suitcase, frantically searching for and putting on more polyester ( okay I added the polyester part).  When my Mom asked what I was doing?  Why I was in such a hurry.  Out of breath I replied

“ I have get ready  to go with Daddy ! We are here for a business trip !”  

That is when she turned to my Dad and said.

“What did you TELL her….EXACTLY ?”

“ I told her that I had to go to Whitefish on a business trip and she was coming with me………oh HELL 

“No wonder she kept trying to throw me out of the car every time we stopped.  She thought it was just going to be you and her “

Now my mom laughs as she retells the story, but there was one very sad little girl and one very upset Dad that she was.(.and perhaps one upset mom too…lol )


My Dad LOVED sports. Oh goodness not to play, to watch.  My brothers were both very athletic, and I remember more than once sitting next to him at one of my brother’s basketball games covering my ears, as my soft spoken father transformed into some crazed sports fan.  My mother continued skiing for many, many years and for several years once I was older I would go with her.  This incident took place in those in between years.  My Dad and his friend were in our basement watching something- who knows, (my Mom once mocked, “ If they threw **** against the wall , and kept score, you’re Dad would watch it “. )  I came down stairs, I was about 10 at the time, with a fully baked apple pie for them.  Most likely out of fear for what the kitchen looked like, my Dad started at me, 

“ When did you do this !”  His friend merely burst out laughing, “ And just what is so funny?”

His friend replied, “ She came down about 2 hours ago and asked you if she could bake a pie.  And you said yes”

“ Oh sorry sweetie..I guess I was wrapped in ‘the game’ “  ( I don’t remember, but I’m sure I might have known to ask at that time *wink* )  

There was plenty of tear and aggravation between us too.  I once came home with a 94 on my report card and the response, “ Plenty of room at the top”

Contractions were not to be used in our house.  No can’t , don’t , wouldn’t…sigh, cannot, do not, would not.  Boy oh boy would he be disappointed in my speech now.  Sheesh, since moving to the area I am now living, I have  dropped the ‘g’ off the end of some words! Eeek

Another thing…as I’ve said before “ Wilma, dogs turn mad, people get angry”…okay, so no MAD either- unless one is insane.  Oh and his personal pet peeve, referring to my mother as SHE.  Nope NOT a good idea.  “ She is the cat.  The woman in the kitchen is your mother” (wow how 1950's sounding)

I remember before heading out to university, he sat me down to have a serious talk.  He began moving around a bit in his chair.  I learned after, through other serious chats, that he was very concerned about how the conversation would go, when he moved in his chair like that.

 “ Wilma, I am very worried about you going away to school.  More so than your sisters.  Boys, well boys there are not like the male friends you have here.  You have always had boyfriends, well male friends,-oh hell!  They are going to expect things from you if you are so nice, and familiar with them like you are the boys around here.  Do you understand what I am talking about?”   Bwahahahaha! 

The day I was unpacking in my university dorm room, my Mother made herself scarce for some reason, as I unpacked.  So very unlike her.  My Dad finally said to me, “ Can you at least pretend to be a little bit sad about leaving home.  I mean for your mother’s sake? “

This was the early 90s so girls were wearing suit jackets and leggings, bulky sweat shirts, and sweaters.  As I was hanging ‘my’ clothes in my new closet my Dad chuckled,

“ Well I sure am glad I am here watching you unpack so I won’t be searching all over our house for my clothes”

I still have some of his sweaters!

One of my favourite interactions came after he came back from shoveling the driveway, 

" It is cold as Hell out there!"

" Um, Dad?  As Hell?"

" Oh, (laughs) well you know what I mean "

The last memory I have of my father was New Years Eve ( feel free to read into that if you like).  New Years Eve was a month after what was to be his life saving surgery.  It turned out to be an open him up, take a look, close him surgery.  From that point on he had a very difficult time keeping things ‘down’. 

My parent’s friends were coming to our house New Years Eve.  Normally there would be a huge party.  This year there were just 8 of them, and myself.  As usual, I think everyone was dressed up. Everyone except my father.  My dad wore a forest green track suit, with a wide blue band across the middle.  He had only lost about 20 pounds, and he was not a huge man, but big enough that it wasn’t that noticeable.  To me his glasses seemed too big.  Before the company arrived, he said,

“ Wilma, would you go downstairs and get me a beer please?”

“ Sure what kind do you… ( interrupted by my mother)  

 Now ________ why don’t you have a ginger ale, your stomach….” 

“ I am going to throw it up anyway, I might as well enjoy it going down.”

I remember nothing else aside from midnight.  As is tradition when Old Lang Syne is sung, we cross arms, holding hands and form a circle.  I remember looking across the circle at my Dad.  That is the last memory I have of him alive.  Not a bad memory I have to admit.

At the funeral home, my oldest sister fussed with his hair, because it didn’t look right.  I remember my brother laughing, “ Yeah I does not look right because he wore Brylcreem  in it every day of his life.  God awful stuff.  They have it feathered! “

Before they closed the casket, my family individually,  with their spouses, went to say good bye and kissed him.  I didn’t want to do that.  I wasn’t’ afraid to touch him because he was dead.  I just didn’t want my last feel of my father to be cold.  I went for the sake of my mother.  I walk up to the casket, bent down to kiss my Dad and before I could make contact, a shock, and a BIG one transferred between us.  It actually felt like it burnt my lip.  My oldest brother just looked down at me and smiled a knowing type smile.

I think of him often and remember things that he probably would find odd

"--Never wrap a present on a soft surface ( yes it was he who taught me how to wrap)

--Cold water gets rid of bubble, but don’t rinse your dishes with cold water because you can’t use a towel to dry them

-I had always hoped you would be a lawyer – you love to debate, you find passion  to stand up for others but not yourself

-I hope you marry someone with a lot of money.  Money burns a hole in your pocket.  And you don’t even spend it on yourself "


So I always wrap gifts on the floor.  No exception.

I always rinse the sink with cold water, but never a glass..

Well I’m not a lawyer.

And I am not rich with monetary goods

So 50% on that report card.  Plenty of room at the top! *wink*