Mind Matters

I mentioned last post that I went through a lot of processing, which deserves its own post…

I came from strict Catholic upbringing – Mom went to Catholic school, Dad had been on the priest track before a fall from grace – which admittedly I abandoned as soon as I left home, but some morals/values die hard.  I was very aware of (and sensitive to) my parents’ opinions on certain matters, even though we did not speak directly of them.

Now, funnily enough, Bis was Catholic too; though we were never particularly religious, we did get married in the Church… and when we parted ways later I refused to have our marriage annulled, as I felt that that was tantamount to saying that it never happened.  By that point I was as far away from Catholicism as one can get and had no wish to immerse myself in it again for (censored… Note to gentle reader: do NOT discuss religion with Kaz unless you enjoy being run over by a truck.  Repeatedly.).

The open relationship was all Bis’s idea… I participated only because I thought that eventually he’d ‘grow up and settle down’, and I didn’t believe in ending sworn promises that were meant for forever; I thought that there was always a way to work something out.  I thought we’d be open as to whom we were with, at least, but no… I knew he had sex with some that I knew; I did not realize the extent until we were separating as he lied so well about it, and it seemed that all of my friends knew about this (hell, many were involved!).  Dozens upon dozens.  The relationships I had outside of our own, in contrast, were all known to and even encouraged by him (as in he told them to go ahead and start something with me, because it would not have happened otherwise), though as I mentioned he had an interesting double standard about them.

When we ended, I had zero trust in men and in what people said in relationships, even as friends.  I had no faith in ‘forever’ or promises of any kind.  For all of that, I would not have survived without the network of our friends; friends took me in, watched over me in my darkest moments, and inspired me to keep going without judgment.

One friend even continued with the sexual relationship we’d started, once I was ready to accept that.  No strings attached, just letting me feel wanted, vital, connected.  A bit kinky even, in that we had sex in unconventional places and positions, which was fun.  We eventually stopped when Taz and I began to get serious, as I felt very strongly that I could only accept monogamy after what had happened before.

When Taz and I started up, it was with lots of talking and eyes wide open.  He knew my past, he’d had a ringside seat in fact, and we were both very frank in our views on honesty in relationships and monogamy.  He was very supportive of me in my quest to put my life back together, encouraging me to go back to school for nursing in order to further my career, and absolutely went above and beyond when we finally realised what it would take for us to start a family.  Yep, Bis had robbed me again, giving me an STD that had ravaged me inside silently and made it impossible for me to conceive by natural means.  When I finally managed to get pregnant the first time through IVF, Taz and I told him… and he had the good grace to be shocked, and truly contrite for the part he had played in that.

When Taz’s father died it was a huge blow to all of us, as he had kept his diagnosis of pancreatic cancer a secret until almost the end.  Taz took it especially hard as there had been so many unresolved issues between them.  As the blue funk stretched from days to weeks and then to months, I suggested that he needed to speak to someone about it, but he refused.  I became pregnant with the twins that year, and I thought that would be a good diversion for him.  In some ways it was, in others not so much, and the exhaustion of the pregnancy and subsequent birth of two active babies, with their older sister still potty-training, kept me from focusing on his depression overmuch.

By the time I took note again, our world seemed coloured by the word, “Whatever…”  It was his response to everything.  And it’s persisted… despite my clinical bag of tricks.  But I can’t walk away, we have too much between us.

When the sex stopped a couple years ago it was actually a relief as it hadn’t been working well in some time.  I resigned myself to the fact that I’d become a statistic and threw myself into other creative facets of my life.  I perform with a local theatre group, not only as an actor (and yes, I play both genders with equal facility) but also as a singer and a musician (fiddle, piano, slide whistle, kazoo).  It takes up quite a bit of my nervous (sexual?) energy and re-channels it in social acceptable ways and I enjoy it immensely.  I also read extensively and write as well (self-published a book a couple of years ago, have a couple of online stories I add to now and again, and participate in a novel-writing challenge on an annual basis).  Oh, and I’m back in school (online) to finish my undergraduate degree in nursing, so yes, I can certainly keep busy.  For the first several months I didn’t even miss sex.

I began to notice a marked rise in my libido after that, and began turning to erotic literature as a way to let off the additional steam.  I even wrote some, as I explored the question as to whether it would really be cheating if I took up with another woman as opposed to a man.  My answer to that question was eventually yes, the emotional investment would amount to the same no matter the gender, and I felt the first tinges of real frustration.  My reading got darker as I began to favour slash and then I began to actively seek out reading on BDSM, and I noted that my orgasms were more intense when I read offerings in those categories.  And that I was needing to get off more often, sometimes two or three times a day.

Several months after that, I had that fateful meeting with my sister and came onto fetlife.  I wanted to learn as much as I could as an observer, to validate or reject what I had been reading about and see whether it was something I should/could pursue in some fashion… perhaps eventually an online relationship or observing and taking back mental images from a play party to fuel my own solitary sessions.

To go from that… to someone actively wanting to partner with me… knocked my world on its side.  I spent quite a bit of time in late-night chats with the person in question discussing my past experiences and why I didn’t think I could ever do such a thing (at the same time that he argued it was exactly what I needed, be it with him or anyone).  Hell, even had I been perfectly willing, I was not sure I could get past the thought of carrying on with a complete stranger; any relationship I had had in the past had been with people I had known for some time (even Bis had been a pen pal for over a year before we met at college).

We finally agreed to meet for coffee and to talk.  I was scared beyond belief and tongue-tied, but he was patient and affable and we got on very well.  Even ‘parked’ for a bit behind the coffee shop.  Yep, we’ve got chemistry.

My brain continued to process and perk on all of this afterwards as we entered a bit of a void with the holidays coming up, and I finally realised the truth of his words when he said that we all need a connection, a time when two can escape the world together for some private time to renew, and that’s what he was/is offering me.  Neither of us believe in casual, meaningless ‘hook-ups’.  We both believe in exclusivity.  The fact that I’m married does not bother him, since Taz and I are not sexually active and I don’t see that changing.  I am doing myself no favours by denying a part of my nature and in fact am likely damaging my health (in unresolved stress) by carrying as I have been, alone.

Do I still feel a sense of wrong in taking this path?  Yes.  Have I done all that I can to fix the problem between Taz and myself?  Yes.  I’ve accepted that it’s beyond my scope and until he’s ready to make a change and get professional help, there’s nothing more I can do.  Do I still love him?  Yes, and I won’t leave him.  But I need to do what I can for myself, to keep from self-combusting.

It’s amazing what the mind can rationalise for itself, eh?