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I have that skin crawling feeling again... The deep twisting knot of deliciousness in the pit of my stomach. That aching that drives me to distraction. That wonderful, horrible, shivering mass of need that has never been fully realized.



Such vibrant longing, intense wanting... just a touch...



The memory of salt and skin against my tongue, my fingers burning for more...



The fantasy of satisfaction...

The haunting remembrance of erutions and screams of pleasure...

I feel somehow so normal watching OU play KSU, normal when I remind my husband he doesn't need to yell at the television.. normal as I fill juice cups and wipe faces.

Normal while I paint, normal while I write, but then... there is this beautiful little flash of thought, and I'm reminded how perfectly un-normal I really am.



That the images I paint are jagged and broken, my writing is scarred with memories. That my husband loves a dark-minded woman, and my children dance to pulsing music.



I'm happy in this place. This shadowy place of peace. Because the perfect bits of light in my life are what causes the shadows, and because of that I can embrace them. I can relish in my life with them.

Sometimes I forget how to breathe. I forget to live. I forget to be who I am.



And then a small hand in mine, or the smile from a dimpled face reminds me. Strong arms holding me, whiskers grazing my face... These are the simple things that keep me alive.



I love my life, even as I despise parts of myself. I'm emotional, at times a tyrant. I make bad decisions, and I regret years of my life. But now, in this place with 2 beautiful toddlers who make me laugh, who make me cry, who makes my heart swell with warmth. A husband who is ever forgiving, always patient, and never gives up, who holds my hand through the nightmares.



Sometimes, even when I can't stand myself, I am proud of where I am, of who I have become. That through every mistake, through every heartache, through every valley, I have struggled on. I'm the one who pulled myself through, who stopped the trauma. That I took the hand my husband offered me, that I didn't let go, even through some of the worst days of both of our lives.



I am blessed. I love this life of mine.

Even the dark days.

COMMENTS

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ladybriarrose
23:06 Sep 17 2012

Hold that thought for at least another fifty years. It will serve you well. *smiles*

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