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10 August 2007, 00:33
I have no reason for the subject line other than it's been stuck in my head since yesterday and I'm awed with the simple brilliance of it.
I've been pickled and I can't go back to being un-pickled. You just cannot remove the spice once it's soaked in.
The last few days I've been so "off". Directionless and scattered. It's not pms (that was last week) so that really only leaves one reason. The spice rack is empty.
Master is working 12 to 14 hours, 7 days a week down there. It's hot, He's tired, He's stressed. The longer this project takes, the farther behind He gets on the other projects. And this project is frustrating Him to no end. Our conversations during the day, IF we have more than one, is quick. I want (try) to keep it light. I'm not complaining or bitching. I do let Him know that I miss Him and can't wait for Him to come home because I think it's important that He know that I'm not enjoying this "vacation" from Him. But, even that is minimal.
So. That's it. The less input I get, the easier it is for me to begin slipping away from His control. It seems that the grip He has on my headspace, while strong and firm on a normal day, is quite tenuous. I've been an autonomous unit for a short amount of time, but the independent things I've had to do, in comparison to the usual strict isolation I have, seems to have thrust me into self-determining, self-governing state of mind.
It's not unusual for me to go weeks sometimes without any real contact, outside of Master or the kids. When you live under those circumstances, it's easy for your world to dwindle to one central figure. Everything about your day, every thought, revolves around Him. The longer it is in-between outside interactions, the harder it is to get me out. My comfort zone is here, this house, that man. <br />
In this last week alone, I've had more social interactions, more obligations that I've had to attend on my own, more decisions I've had to make without His direction than I've had in probably the last 6 to 12 months.
I'm not excusing my behavior from yesterday at all. But in trying to understand it, to pinpoint the motivation and thought process, I can develop ways to combat it. I am going to continue having to operate independently from time to time but I cannot continue to "fall off the wagon" when it happens.
I was aware that what I did yesterday was wrong as I did it (or chose not to do it, as the case was). But it was SO easy to shout down that inner voice. Because I'd been shouting down that inner voice all week. Every move that I had to make independent of Him required deliberately plugging my mental ears to that voice. I know in the beginning of the week, that very first autonomous move required huge effort. It was a struggle to overcome that voice telling me that I could not operate without Him. In that case, I HAD to do it, had to "fly solo". Each time after that, it got a little easier.
The drama-queen in me is all sorts of panicked about how, in one short week, I've erased years of conditioning and become Miss Independent USA. But that's only because these little independent things that I've been doing FEEL more important than what they are. And, if I'm going to be honest, I have to admit to having enjoyed it a bit. Having a taste of freedom, and it was sweet. Confusing too though, there was guilt laced all over the pleasure.
Here's an example of what I mean by these independent things. I can go to the bathroom whenever I want to. I can go in and out of there 7 times in 3 minutes if I want to. I can have just went and decide I need to go again and not have to explain it to anyone, not have to say ANYTHING. I can wake up in the middle of the night needing to pee, and not agonize over having to wake Him up. I don't have to lie there, debating on if I have to go bad enough that it's worth waking Him up for. I'm not chained to anything. There is freedom in movement. I can go upstairs, downstairs, outside, inside, leave the room, get online, get offline, watch what I want on TV, read a book, cook what and when I want, clean what room I want to clean, leave a basket of clothes on the table for 4 days. It's kind of heady and fun and different.
I was (am?) getting some guilty pleasure out of those things. And it seemed a very short leap from all of that to going to the store when I wanted to, going to another store because I wanted to...
But at the same time, I don't like it. I don't want it. It's like when you sit a kid down in front of a cake and give him a fork. The initial digging in is great! All that frosting, the sugar rush. It's not long though, before kid has a stomach-ache and is begging you to take that yummy cake and toss it in the garbage.
I guess I have a stomach-ache. I don't want any more cake. I just wanna be a pickle.
But I have 8 more days of cake. :(
~cunt
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