Transition Sounds Better Than Breaking Up

Zi is always reminding me to breathe deeply when I'm in pain or upset. And he's been talking a lot more about fate, kismet, destiny, and The Universe lately. I think it brings him peace. A sort-of explanation for this 'transition' we're now in.

For, on Tuesday, I told him the distance was too much. That it didn't feel healthy for me to be in this relationship like it was anymore. I "broke up" with him. And then the next day, when I cried with him again, he wanted to be clear that in no way was he mad or bitter. That he was even sharing this responsibility with me. He felt that, in a way (totally indirectly and not to blame, of course), he put us in this long-distance situation in the first place with his job loss and subsequent move. And that he ALSO didn't want me to be in an unhealthy place.

He believes then that we both have come to this conclusion -- that he didn't really see it as a break up, but more as a transition. And I, of course, clung to that because I felt better (read: less guilty) with those words. Transition sounded better than breaking up.

Something I told him recently (since our ... transition): "If there's any chance we can still be together I want to wait for you. I don't want to start seeing anyone else. But. I can't wait a year. If you could tell me you were moving here in six months -- I'd wait."

And then I promptly widened that to six months to a year. He said, "Then what was the point of the break-up?"

Hmm.

I don't want to dig myself a hole here. After three and half months of "good days and bad days" oscillating back and forth until it became a daily up and down swing, like I was on some kind of upper/downer drug frenzy, I called it quits. I threw my hands up in surrender (which by the way is why I felt so guilty -- "If I was only stronger" -- wreaking havoc on my work ethic and my idea of loyalty.)


It's not that he's not good for me, or that we're not good for each other. It's that the distance has beaten us down. I was going to say beaten me down, but even Zi wants to have sex with others to tide him over between our visits. And I know the distance is getting to him, too. It's true that he'd keep going in the relationship -- most likely indefinitely -- but he needs the stability of a steady girlfriend in New Jersey as much as I need companionship and touch here.

The truth is we've both been living without crucial human needs being met. For months. And it's taken its toll on us. On our minds, on our hearts, on our bodies. It's hurting us.

And there it is. The stalemate.

On the one hand, we love each other. And have for a year. Deep love that grows in our marrow. And despite staggering challenges: first my marriage, then my search and quest within to determine whether I was monogamous or polyamorous, Zi's job loss, his moving away, the whole J thing, and all the months apart. Not to mention the "little" things like: I'm not Indian or Muslim, that he's more conservative than I am, that I'm divorced twice, (and widowed for God's sake), have two half-grown children, and am ambivalent about having more. (Though at times I am completely and utterly obsessed by the idea.)

And despite all that -- there is love and worship and obsession and sex and play and laughter and culture and language and trust. There is tenderness and protectiveness. There is nurturing and comfort. There is pride and -- Sweet Jesus -- a rocking awesome brown cock.

I love the exotic, I love the differences between us, I love his accent and the way he laughs and pushes his glasses up on his nose. The way he wiggles his foot unconsciously, and wears the same outfit every day when he's not at work or going out. Blue sweatshirt, blue hat, white tee-shirt, pajama pants, black slippers.

I love his tongue and his hands. I love his words and the sound of his voice -- calming and grounding. Even when we're disagreeing.

That's all on the one hand.

On the other, we're in pain. Sometimes it rages like a slashing cut at our core, and other times a dull ache, like a low-grade headache that won't go away. We're not alive right now. We're living a shadow life. One where we only come alive when we sext each other, or when we see each other on Skype, or talk on the phone. Or plan our next visits and watch our porn videos. At those times we are manically high. Euphoric. Stronger than the Earth's gravitational pull.

But the worst part? Is sometimes, even those very things that make me feel alive -- the Skyping, the phone calls -- Don't. They make me feel worse. Because it's not happening here in body. It's only real in cyber-world.

So where does that leave us?

And, actually, I should be saying 'me.' Where does that leave me? Because these are my thoughts. My feelings. My pain. I need to own them and not project them onto Zi. He has his own and I hope he'll write them down here, too. So I can witness them, as he is witnessing mine. And then this space can be what we intended: Bare And Raw, both of us.

In conclusion (as if this were some college essay), we are in this weird transitional space. We love each other. We aren't bitter about this new place -- whatever it turns out to be. And we'll always be in each other's lives -- whatever those turn out to be. We don't know how our relationship will change -- but I think it must -- unless a miracle happens and Zi moves to Eugene within the next year.

And by year I mean closer to eight months.

And by eight months I mean a scenario like this: he thinks for a couple months on how it can work, and then has a move-in date I can write on the calendar for six or so months after that. Or gets a job in the NW in next couple months. Maybe he'll find out that his green card process will be far enough along by, say, July, that he could move to Eugene and look for work around here without any marriage. Then we could just live together. No pressure.

I could wait until July.

If I had that month to focus on. An ending to this.
"I can wait. I can handle this distance. It's only for a few more months. And then I can be relaxed and happy and have my man back."

Yes. I could wait until the end of summer, if I was actively planning and preparing for his arrival. It's the not knowing and the indefinite-which-literally-feels-like-forever that I can't last through anymore.

And I still feel sorry for that. Like I've let us down. Let Zi down.

But it seems I've hit my limit. I didn't know I had one. I've never been good at boundaries -- but here is one erected almost all by itself.

Zi says this is an ultimatum -- but that it's fine that I've placed one on him.

But I don't think of this as an ultimatum. It's just a limitation that I've discovered I have.

I can only wait for something (even if it's the most important thing in my world) for a really long time, if I have an end date. Some idea of when it'll arrive. Otherwise, I simply can't fathom it happening. Ever.

I love you, Zi.
I'm still getting that tattoo.

Trust and Sex

I'm feeling pretty good in my relationship with Zi. We're in a good place. Well. I'm in a good place; I can't speak for Zi (and he never writes on here anymore). ;)

Just had Skype sex with him, so maybe my opinion is skewed right now.

At any rate, I'm feeling in a good place because of lots of reasons. Somewhere in the last two months I've reached a place where my trust in Zi has solidified. I know with all the cells in my body that he won't ever intentionally hurt me. I know that he loves me, that he wants me. I know that he wants to hear my truth -- and here's the kicker -- and that when he hears it (whatever it is) he'll accept it. He loves me unconditionally. Whatever I need to tell him, even if it might be painful, he wants to hear. And I finally get that. I trust him enough to get that. And that's huge for me. That's something I only have with my friend T. That's something I didn't have with my ex-husband. Or any of my other friends, ever.

And. I can almost pee in front of him.


So one of the things I felt comfortable telling him this morning was that in order for me to maintain this relationship, to sustain on what we have, I need to see him once a month. I clarified by saying, "If we aim for seeing each other every month, and once in a while it's not realistic and it stretches to two -- I can handle that. My joy at our relationship can carry me through to the next month. But if we aim for every three months and it stretches to four, I can't do it." I did preface the conversation with a question. I asked him if he thought it was feasible: financially, mentally, time-wise/schedule-wise to see each other once a month. He said if we plan ahead, sure. So I felt that saying what I did wasn't unreasonable. (And it just shows how far I've come in my self-confidence that I'm able to admit that even if what I said was an unreasonable request/statement, it still would've been ok to say. Oftentimes love, or life, is not reasonable.)

So our new intent is, before we part on one of our visits, we will pick out the dates for the next time we can get together and see each other. To smell each other. To fuck each other. To be naughty together. To walk down the street together.

He took my statements and our intention very seriously. And I appreciate that. Immensely. It takes a huge block of fear off my head, too. Before he got his apartment, every day I would wake up and think, "I don't know when I'll see Zi again. Will I ever?" Each day got more and more internally dramatic. And now, because Zi is respecting this "deal-breaker" as we've come to call it, I know that almost every day I wake up I'll know, "I get to see Zi in six weeks." "I get to see Zi in ten days." Or, more importantly, "Today sucks ass. I can't stand to live like this anymore. I'm spiraling down. I can't see the sky. .... Wait. Breathe. .... Tomorrow will be better. And I get to see Zi in four weeks. I can make it. We can make it."


Zi expressed some concern today (or maybe chagrin?) at his seeming focus on our sexual connection -- that that is what keeps him interested in our relationship through the time and distance of our forced separation. I tried to reassure him, though wasn't sure if I was successful. I like our sexual connection! It feeds me, too. It keeps me in this relationship despite the challenges we face, too.


When I feel like the lack of close companionship and lack of sensual and comforting touch is too strong for me to endure, when I feel like my needs are not being met in this relationship, I remember that one of my greatest fears in this remaining lifetime is not ever having this strong of kinky sexual connection with another person again. So when I feel like maybe it's time to move on ... I remember this huge fact in my life. This huge *important* fact. Yes, it may be shallow. Yes, it may be crass. But, .... it's ok to say that sex is vitally important to me. A great sexual relationship is a deal-breaker for me on my current path. I am in the sexual prime of my life. (So is Zi, and oh do we make beautiful music together...)


Speaking of sex ....
while I was visiting NJ in October, we had a pregnancy scare. For about two days and two hours.

I was two days late, so I took a pregnancy test. It came out negative and two hours later my period started.

This has started a series of other conversations for us.

But I'll save that for another blog post.

Secret Lessons from Grief and Books, and the Traditions You Pass On To Your Children

Strange.
Emotional spilling over.

While reading a book, I move from one scene to the next -- one sentence to the next -- and start to cry. With no hint of a reason why.

"... 'Don't worry so much, my dear," [the doctor] says reassuringly. "There's no such thing as being allergic to India.'


One night, I dream of Nana. ..."


My chest tightens and I feel warm all over. A distant observer part of me thinks, Here's your emotional pms showing up. That's good. Let it come then.

Not really expecting that it would.
But it did.

The hotness wells up to my throat and then eyes. I feel the moisture and with even breaths I exhale through open mouth repeatedly until I can gain control.

What was wrong with me? Where did that come from? Pms might (ok, does) make me tender and sensitive, but there's always a catalyst. Where did this come from? I was just reading. About nothing emotional. A follow-up trip to a doctor and 'one night I dream of Nana.'

I look up, holding the tears in my eyeslids like little bowls. I'm still pushing the heat out with my breath.

Why did those two unrelated sentences cause me grief?

The eyelashes of my right eye stick together and poke my eyeball. I blink rapid staccato and the light from the NJ windows looks like a strobe light for a few seconds. I continue blowing the emotional pain out.

I used to hold my breath when I'd cry. But then I learned that our muscles hold memories, and holding our breath while crying did something similar. It made the dense emotion of grief to stay within. No I struggle to breathe when I cry. To let it out. For realsies.

Compassion!
Being taken care of.
Love.

I blink the eyelash straight and two solid fat globs of tears drain down my cheeks.
Like twins.
Separated at birth but still unknowingly doing things simultaneously, across the country.

The doctor had compassion and kindness for his patient. A tenderness.
The Nana the author dreamed of loved her. Shared a special bond with her. The author was going on a quest for her now departed Nana.
Love.

I look to my own life. Past and Present. And feel loss and emptiness. Loneliness. No one to care for me now. No grandmother figure in my life. Nor mother figure really either. As mine has geographically and , I fear, emotionally drifted from me. And the woman I associated as my other mother figure for years has done the same. Only I am to blame, if not solely, for that. For divorcing her son.

Feeling ever much the victim, I wallow, and my stomach sours and my lungs harden.

I am not blowing anymore.

I am in my lover's house.
He cares for me.
Nurtures me.
Holds me.
Aches for me.
Does anything and everything for me.

Is this why I love him?
Is that a good reason to love someone? Because they love *you*?
(No. Otherwise I'd still be married to my ex.)
But somehow N's love for me and mine for him feels different. Newer. With more promise. More possibility. More passion.

I'm distracted by the blue sky and the sticks of branches that have lost their leaves to autumn, and the Arabic French music of Souad Massi fills the apartment. I wonder if it contributed to my mini-meltdown.

N. and I spoke yesterday of tradition and heritage. Ancestry. What to pass on to your children's generation. What do I want to bring? What can I bring?

Certainly this love. This love and compassion and caring that I spontaneously cried about. This delicate reminder of the importance of life and love.

And my love of books and words.
And magic.
The seasonal changes.
The Full Moon song.
And reading in bed at night.

I can bring those things to my children.

What can you bring yours?
What reminders have you found in books lately?

Day Three of Vacation

O My God.
The sex.

Zi picked me up from the airport on Saturday morning. We drove to his apartment and he showed me around. There were boxes and recycling spewed everywhere and no furniture to sit on, but he'd clearly been moving in like a mad-man this week. The kitchen and bathroom and bedroom were set ... It was just the living room that still needed some assistance.

A short tour led us to THE BED, and we climbed inside and pulled off clothes and kissed and fucked. Mmmm. First time in four months. (Which is wrong on multiple levels.) My period was due is a few days, so I was fairly certain I wasn't in my fertile time. However, I had him pull out and cum on my stomach .... just in case. Mmm. So yummy. So much. I rubbed it in.

We showered and lounged and I relaxed a bit. His landlord came over to fix the hot water. And then we decided to hit NYC. We ate uninspiring food, walked through Times Square (which I didn't like), walked through Central Park (which I did like), and rode on about eight subways. :) It was good. I was feeling pretty beat by the time we got home though. Jet lag and all.

We got ready for bed after eating a frozen pizza and found THE BED again. Only this time, Zi turned on THE CAMERA. (slow sexy smile) We did so much horny, sexy, nasty, awesome, wonderful things to ourselves. It was priceless. And we have the video to prove it. (To ourselves. XHamster ain't never gettin' it.)

We showered again. Together. I love showering with Zi.

I slept like a rock that night.



Next morning: Sunday.
We slept in. We fucked again. And videoed it again. :) Only difference ... I let him cum inside me. Bareback.

We showered. He made me tea. He cooked a bunch of food for the week. I drug all the recycling and trash out. The landlord's brother came over to fix the thermostat. We ate lunch and I cried a little. He held me and we talked briefly about the HOW of the DOING. How to exactly live through this forced separation. And can I handle it. We talked a little about my depression getting so bad in September and me finally dragging myself out a little bit, and me never wanting to get that bad again.

We didn't come up with any solutions. Just more: day by day do the best we can try hard and if it doesn't work out we'll know that we tried and tried and tried.

Also, I've noticed in our 2.5 days together, he's let slip the phrase "When we live together ... " several times.
I don't know what that means. Or how I feel about it.
I want it. Obviously.
But do I want to believe in it?
Or will that create more depression?
'Cuz I can't go there. Again. It was a bad place.

We went to Ikea and he showed me around. We envisioned our apartments and gave each other decorating advice. It was fun, in a strangely painful playing house sort of way.

After Ikea, we unloaded the car, heated up some dinner, did some dishes, I read some, we contemplated watching a movie, and we headed for bed. Both of us tired.

But.

We watched our homemade porn again.
So
We
Fucked
Again.

:)

I let him come inside me again.
Huh.

Why am I being so careless?

Do I want to get pregnant?
Would it be for the right reasons?
If I got pregnant, Zi said (months and months ago) that he'd marry me ... and could live with me despite the Green Card status.
Is that what this is about?
A month or so ago, I asked Zi to marry me.
On Skype.
TOTALLY un-romatic, I grant you, but at that time Zi said (not 'no' but that) he didn't want us getting married because we "had" to, but because it was the natural next thing to do in our relationship.

And I agree.
So the unprotected sex?
What's that about?

Sometimes I get the feeling he doesn't really want children at all.  He talks of needing solitude and having things just so. And having just spent six months living with his sister and brother-in-law and Zi's two year old nephew has given him some welcome (and maybe some not so welcome) insight into what a "young family" looks (and sounds) like.  And to be fair, sometimes I don't know if I want to have another one. I feel at a different place chronologically in my life. Like it's career time.

An "oops" would be terrible if both those sentiments were the case.
HOWEVER, all of that said: I think that both of us would make delightful parents.(With the occasional squabble over beating the children.) ;)


Today's Monday.
We got up with his alarm. I got him hot water to drink. He poured us coffee.  
I watched him do his morning routine.
He made me breakfast.
We showered again together.
I kissed him good-bye as he left for work.
I watched him walk out to his car and watched him drive away.

Playing house with him is dangerous.

My hope for this visit is for me to recover and heal from not sleeping enough, not eating healthy foods, not taking my meds regularly, having my mind cluttered and missing Zi into a wrenching depression.

I want to sleep and read and write and think and soak up as much Zi as is possible in our brief time.
And fuck.
I want to make lots more videos and memories with him before I fly back to Oregon.

I want to return home satiated. I want to be relaxed, well-read, and secure emotionally. I want to have enough strength to make it to the next visit.

But the one after that?

I can't see that one. My vision getting blurry and I start breathing funny.
I don't know if I can make it joyfully to the next visit after that.

How can I last this separation?


... I've finished a book, played on the Facebook/blog/online newspaper time suck thing, talked to my friend on the phone, napped and had a little something to eat.

Zi is getting off work now, and will be returning soon. I  didn't make it outside today. But that's ok. It's really all about healing right now. And today was just a get my bearings day.

Going to drink a glass of water and start a new book.
Zi's making chicken curry tonight.

xo

Orchid G -- Sex Toy Review

The cool thing about vibrators, is you cum really fast.
The cool thing about using your fingers, is you cum really slow.
And the cool thing about using the Orchid G is you get to find your G-spot.

Bikram Boot Camp?

I'm embarking on another round of Let's See How Long it Takes to Pass Out From Doing Exercise.

I've started a beginning boot camp class. Again. I'm still a beginner because the last time I started, I technically wasn't IN the beginner's class. I was just tagging along. I wasn't on the google boards, I didn't have a manual, I wasn't getting the mentoring. I was just ... you know... getting my ass kicked from bear crawls. (I hate bear crawls.)


So today was Week One Day One and by the time I left I felt nauseous and dizzy. Hmm. Not the way I want to start out my day. My arms are so fatigued that they feel twenty pounds heavier than they are supposed to, and my hands are still shaking ... an hour after class ended.

Hard stuff.

More hard stuff I'm going to be subjecting myself to .... but actually LIKING it ... is Bikram Yoga. I love hot yoga. And on days like this morning (where I worked out in the rain), I especially love the 105 degree yoga studio. Mmmm. Bikram Yoga is also a workout likely to leave me nauseous and dizzy, but somehow I keep going back for more. I really love the way I feel after yoga. I stand taller, I'm more flexible, I breathe deeper, I recover from exercise faster, I'm more relaxed, I feel more confident, I feel sexier, I have better posture. I just really like it.

I had run out of my yoga pass in the Spring and have been yogaless since. Also sedentary. Well. As sedentary as a part-time waitress/mom can be. There was a Bikram Yoga Living Social deal that passed through my email inbox that I couldn't pass up. So I'm going to be starting that up, too. Maybe even as early as tomorrow.

See ...

I thought about waiting until my boot camp session was over before starting yoga again, but I'm needing the balance of the yoga stretching and breathing and ... well, just LIFE balance that yoga brings to me, while I'm going through this intense boot camp that I'm really despising at the moment. I think the yoga will keep me sane while I boot camp it. ALSO, the number one reason to do the yoga now (despite the only con: having to miss the last week of my thirty day pass due to travel) is because I'm going on vacation to visit N. And I want to be in great shape when I see him. And flexible. (grins) I want to be flexible when I see him.

Between

This post will just highlight my ever changing moods and frames of mind. I actually wrote this in my journal last night, but woke feeling different. Not totally, but you know, much-less-dramatic-than-at-night-when-you're-tired different.

~

I want to write a little about inspiration and -- NaBlPoMo. Which is strangely fun to say. I feel like I'm in sore need of some artistic influence -- enter NapBloPoMo. NaBloPoMo's (National Blog Posting Month's) theme this month is "Between." When I read that I knew I needed to play along. For realsies.



I am soooo in the in between spaces right now. Which is interesting because of Samhain, the Celtic New Year. (Halloween to many.) We are fast approaching this day of seasonal change. We're (I'm) on the cusp of a new year and new intentions and re-newed energy and letting go of stagnant air and sluggish energy.

I feel a recent desire to connect with estranged friends -- specifically one that I felt I'd abandoned without much closure -- and a restless, rustling energy to start life again after being dead. Which is also strange.

How can I be re-born in the dead of winter? When the days are still steadily getting shorter and shorter and suffocating in the dimming of the sun?

Why do I always feel like autumn is a time for new beginnings? Maybe it's nesting. Maybe it's in preparation for the cold dark months ahead. Maybe it's because I know I'll be depressed in the bleakness of February, so I'm rallying now.

But at any rate, I feel between right now. So this blogging exercise will be right up my alley.

I'm between.
In between.
Out of one thing,
Into another.
Hazy.

My divorce is final,
but I'm not feeling fully engaged with my long distance boyfriend.
"One day at a time" feels like walking,
which is lovely,
but not like we're going anywhere yet.
Like we're taking a fabulous walk in the countryside crisp with leaves and fields of grass where dogs can run for miles with lolling tongues. We're talking and laughing and sharing an ice cream cone, but we're just walking in circles.

And I want us to explore over there,
by those trees
and by that creek
where the water laughs over rocks.

I know we'll get there eventually,
but right now we're still in these circles.
Around and around
On an invisible track.

The walk is energizing and just what I want, but I keep looking up wanting us to walk over there.
But it's not time yet.
The circle is where we live right now.
Yet ...
What if we walked a little faster maybe?
Or -- Let's try backwards.
Or what if we skipped in these circles?

~

And then this morning, I wake with all smiles.
I have a brilliant (BRILLIANT) conversation with Zi, and we are planning our next visit.
I will hopefully see him in three weeks. He finally has his own apartment.
THREE WEEKS!
This changes ... well ... not much actually. Lol. But still! Three weeks!
I'm full of spices and romance and fantasies and love.

And

I hope your day is too.