But for the wrong reasons.
I promised an update, and I will be a good girl and deliver. Red and I have been getting by fairly well. He's still struggling with his illness, but his doctors are paying extremely close attention to him since our close call, and he is getting good treatment. All tests are showing that his body is recovering well.
I'm also doing well too. Early in 2009, I think I posted about being diagnosed with hypothyroidism. My treatment for that, a simple pill each morning, has me feeling tons better in a lot of ways.
There is no denying, however, that Red and I have had a crash course in how to manage extreme stress over the past several months. And of course, with Red's health being the issue that it is, our discipline arrangement has taken a back seat. I'm not exactly sure where things stand at the moment, discipline-wise. I've gotten some playful swats, and a couple of light, playful spankings, but no discipline for quite some time.
I know that I've written in the past about how our discipline arrangement helps me emotionally. Having to learn to manage without it has been a challenge, but one that I think I'm finally doing well with. As my energy has improved from the thyroid treatment, I've taken up the sport of running. I've gone from being a person who wouldn't necessarily run even when chased, to someone who runs several miles a day on a regular basis.
I remember when I started to take up running, and I was huffing and puffing my way through my workout, I thought to myself, "This is worse than a spanking. Maybe I'm subconsciously trying to discipline myself."
Well, it turns out that in a way, I have. Thyroid treatment and increased exercise has lead to weight loss, of course. And weight loss has lead to baggy clothing. Baggy clothing rubs against your skin more when you move. Running in panties that are now too big on me has completely chaffed my poor bottom. It now looks and feels like Red went to town on my poor behind, when he never laid a finger on me.
I felt a bit silly as Red lovingly put baby powder on my backside, but he assured me that he loved taking care of my bottom. Then he made me promise to go buy some new clothes, and added, "I don't want to have to spank you when your bottom is like this."
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
I Love My Lurkers!
In some ways I'm still more of a lurker than a blogger. It took me years to begin commenting on other blogs, The Punishment Book being my first in January 2007. That being said, even though I am technically a blogger now, my inner lurker is still in control a lot of the time.
It was really difficult for me to post my first comment. I felt like I was trying to introduce myself to the popular crowd, since I posted on a fairly well-known blog written by known bloggers. Having been a huge dork most of my life, introducing myself, especially when it involves a "coming out" of sorts into a "deviant" community (for lack of a better term) was daunting. But what I found was that the people I began commenting to and chatting with were instantly accepting of me, having gone through the same thing at some time in their pasts.
I'm still a terribly shy person. I still suffer from the strong feeling that I have absolutely nothing to contribute and that no one wants to hear what I might have to say. I'm still more of a lurker than a blogger, so I can understand what it feels like to be in your shoes, dear Lurker.
So what I'm trying to say is this. First of all, I appreciate you. For anyone who reads my posts that I am so very insecure about, I appreciate you. I would love to hear from you. If you're ready to delurk, I will welcome you with open arms. Don't be afraid. There are lots of bloggers who participate with Love Our Lurkers Day, and if my blog doesn't tickle your fancy, then I encourage you to delurk on a blog that does. Just know that you are welcome, you are wanted, and you are appreciated.
I love you lurkers!
It was really difficult for me to post my first comment. I felt like I was trying to introduce myself to the popular crowd, since I posted on a fairly well-known blog written by known bloggers. Having been a huge dork most of my life, introducing myself, especially when it involves a "coming out" of sorts into a "deviant" community (for lack of a better term) was daunting. But what I found was that the people I began commenting to and chatting with were instantly accepting of me, having gone through the same thing at some time in their pasts.
I'm still a terribly shy person. I still suffer from the strong feeling that I have absolutely nothing to contribute and that no one wants to hear what I might have to say. I'm still more of a lurker than a blogger, so I can understand what it feels like to be in your shoes, dear Lurker.
So what I'm trying to say is this. First of all, I appreciate you. For anyone who reads my posts that I am so very insecure about, I appreciate you. I would love to hear from you. If you're ready to delurk, I will welcome you with open arms. Don't be afraid. There are lots of bloggers who participate with Love Our Lurkers Day, and if my blog doesn't tickle your fancy, then I encourage you to delurk on a blog that does. Just know that you are welcome, you are wanted, and you are appreciated.
I love you lurkers!
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Lit for DDers, and those with Professor/Student Kinks
As Red has been working on improving his health, I too have been working on improving myself in a variety of ways. One of these ways, since I am not able to attend school at the time, is to catch up on the 100+ classics that have been sitting untouched on my bookshelves.
I am a student of literature, and have a particular love of Victorian literature. The fact that talk of discipline and such occasionally arises in literature from this time period is not the reason; it is a happy coincidence.
In my recent reading, I discovered a book that would likely be very enjoyable for both DDers, and playful spankos alike. I do not recall reading if another blogger has posted about this book, but if someone has already, my apologies for stepping on your post. No disrespect intended.
Anyhow, the book is The Professor, by Charlotte Bronte. It is about a gentleman named William Crimsworth, who teaches English in Belgium and falls in love with a fellow teacher, Frances Evans Henri, who becomes his pupil.
The following passages are from Chapter 25 of the novel:
"My afternoons were spent also in college, with the exception of an hour that my wife daily exacted of me for her establishment, and with which she would not dispense. She said that I must spend that time amongst her pupils to learn their characters, to be AU COURANT with everything that was passing in the house, to become interested in what interested her, to be able to give her my opinion on knotty points when she required it, and this she did constantly, never allowing my interest in the pupils to fall asleep, and never making any change of importance without my cognizance and consent. She delighted to sit by me when I gave my lessons (lessons in literature), her hands folded on her knee, the most fixedly attentive of any present. She rarely addressed me in class; when she did it was with an air of marked deference; it was her pleasure, her joy to make me still the master in all things."
While I am not the type of woman who would generally call anyone "Master," I found that Frances' continued pattern of addressing Crimsworth as "Master" even once they had clearly transitioned from a professor/student to a spousal relationship, was a thrilling detail for me.
"Talk French to me she would, and many a punishment she has had for her wilfulness. I fear the choice of chastisement must have been injudicious, for instead of correcting the fault, it seemed to encourage its renewal. Our evenings were our own; that recreation was necessary to refresh our strength for the due discharge of our duties; sometimes we spent them all in conversation, and my young Genevese, now that she was thoroughly accustomed to her English professor, now that she loved him too absolutely to fear him much, reposed in him a confidence so unlimited that topics of conversation could no more be wanting with him than subjects for communion with her own heart. In those moments, happy as a bird with its mate, she would show me what she had of vivacity, of mirth, of originality in her well-dowered nature. She would show, too, some stores of raillery, of “malice,” and would vex, tease, pique me sometimes about what she called my “bizarreries anglaises,” my “caprices insulaires,” with a wild and witty wickedness that made a perfect white demon of her while it lasted. This was rare, however, and the elfish freak was always short: sometimes when driven a little hard in the war of words—for her tongue did ample justice to the pith, the point, the delicacy of her native French, in which language she always attacked me—I used to turn upon her with my old decision, and arrest bodily the sprite that teased me. Vain idea! no sooner had I grasped hand or arm than the elf was gone; the provocative smile quenched in the expressive brown eyes, and a ray of gentle homage shone under the lids in its place. I had seized a mere vexing fairy, and found a submissive and supplicating little mortal woman in my arms. Then I made her get a book, and read English to me for an hour by way of penance."
It should be obvious to any DDer/spanko why this passage is one of my favorites in the novel.
While this novel was Bronte's first, and is not her most well-known nor most critically-acclaimed, I certainly enjoyed it. I highly recommend it.
And on a more personal note... Thank you to all who have posted supported messages and/or emailed to inquire how Red and I are doing. Red's health continues to improve, and I've been working to improve myself as well. I will be posting again soon to give a more detailed update. I have not disappeared permanently, and I appreciate those who still stop by and read my infrequent posts. I hope you are all well.
I am a student of literature, and have a particular love of Victorian literature. The fact that talk of discipline and such occasionally arises in literature from this time period is not the reason; it is a happy coincidence.
In my recent reading, I discovered a book that would likely be very enjoyable for both DDers, and playful spankos alike. I do not recall reading if another blogger has posted about this book, but if someone has already, my apologies for stepping on your post. No disrespect intended.
Anyhow, the book is The Professor, by Charlotte Bronte. It is about a gentleman named William Crimsworth, who teaches English in Belgium and falls in love with a fellow teacher, Frances Evans Henri, who becomes his pupil.
The following passages are from Chapter 25 of the novel:
"My afternoons were spent also in college, with the exception of an hour that my wife daily exacted of me for her establishment, and with which she would not dispense. She said that I must spend that time amongst her pupils to learn their characters, to be AU COURANT with everything that was passing in the house, to become interested in what interested her, to be able to give her my opinion on knotty points when she required it, and this she did constantly, never allowing my interest in the pupils to fall asleep, and never making any change of importance without my cognizance and consent. She delighted to sit by me when I gave my lessons (lessons in literature), her hands folded on her knee, the most fixedly attentive of any present. She rarely addressed me in class; when she did it was with an air of marked deference; it was her pleasure, her joy to make me still the master in all things."
While I am not the type of woman who would generally call anyone "Master," I found that Frances' continued pattern of addressing Crimsworth as "Master" even once they had clearly transitioned from a professor/student to a spousal relationship, was a thrilling detail for me.
"Talk French to me she would, and many a punishment she has had for her wilfulness. I fear the choice of chastisement must have been injudicious, for instead of correcting the fault, it seemed to encourage its renewal. Our evenings were our own; that recreation was necessary to refresh our strength for the due discharge of our duties; sometimes we spent them all in conversation, and my young Genevese, now that she was thoroughly accustomed to her English professor, now that she loved him too absolutely to fear him much, reposed in him a confidence so unlimited that topics of conversation could no more be wanting with him than subjects for communion with her own heart. In those moments, happy as a bird with its mate, she would show me what she had of vivacity, of mirth, of originality in her well-dowered nature. She would show, too, some stores of raillery, of “malice,” and would vex, tease, pique me sometimes about what she called my “bizarreries anglaises,” my “caprices insulaires,” with a wild and witty wickedness that made a perfect white demon of her while it lasted. This was rare, however, and the elfish freak was always short: sometimes when driven a little hard in the war of words—for her tongue did ample justice to the pith, the point, the delicacy of her native French, in which language she always attacked me—I used to turn upon her with my old decision, and arrest bodily the sprite that teased me. Vain idea! no sooner had I grasped hand or arm than the elf was gone; the provocative smile quenched in the expressive brown eyes, and a ray of gentle homage shone under the lids in its place. I had seized a mere vexing fairy, and found a submissive and supplicating little mortal woman in my arms. Then I made her get a book, and read English to me for an hour by way of penance."
It should be obvious to any DDer/spanko why this passage is one of my favorites in the novel.
While this novel was Bronte's first, and is not her most well-known nor most critically-acclaimed, I certainly enjoyed it. I highly recommend it.
And on a more personal note... Thank you to all who have posted supported messages and/or emailed to inquire how Red and I are doing. Red's health continues to improve, and I've been working to improve myself as well. I will be posting again soon to give a more detailed update. I have not disappeared permanently, and I appreciate those who still stop by and read my infrequent posts. I hope you are all well.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Close Call
In mid-July, I came way too close to losing Red. I spent a week sleeping in a hospital chair, watching my husband sleep, listening to machines beep, and praying for various measurements in his blood to go one way or the other.
We got lucky. The doctors say there is an excellent chance that there will be no lasting damage to Red, though if we'd waited just a couple more hours to go to the ER, I'd be posting something much much different right now.
What happened? Well, I won't post the name of the drug, because I don't want to freak anyone out, and I don't want to get sued by the company. But Red took a very common over-the-counter pain killer, and turned out to be the one-person-in-a-million who has those horrible adverse reactions they list in the commercials that most people ignore. His kidneys shut down. His heart nearly stopped. All because his foot hurt and he popped a pill.
I had a lot of time to think while I was sitting in that hospital chair. Though most of it didn't relate directly to DD, in a lot of ways, it related indirectly, so I thought it worth posting here.
The thing about Red is that he's a pretty private guy, and not many people know him very well. If they did, they'd know that no matter what assumptions you make about the guy, you're probably wrong.
For example, Red is physically the kind of spanker-man about whom most women with our particular preferences would dream. He's a big guy, even "larger than life" in some ways, and when he wants me to go somewhere (such as the bedroom for a nap, a spanking, or something else), he has no trouble getting me there. He's both an immovable object and an irresistable force when he wants to be. He seems unstoppable.
Because of his appearance, most people assume he's a meat and potatoes kind of man. But Red doesn't eat red meat. Red doesn't eat fried foods, fatty foods. He has a rather conservative diet.
Because of his incredible knowledge (Red is at the top of his field and has been becoming rather well known in his area of work), people assume that he knows everything. And sometimes I think so too. They'd never guess that Red has an incredible weakness when it comes to figurative speech. It quite frequently happens that Red needs to come to me after speaking to a client and ask me what a certain commonly-used metaphor means.
People also assume that Red is, just as he calls himself, "insensitive and uncaring." This may be true about some things, but Red has revealed himself to me over the years to be one of the most sensitive people I've ever met. The same man who warned me that we would not go through extreme and costly measures to save an animal's life when we adopted our first dog is now going through hell and high water to keep the poor, elderly, senile creature alive.
I tell you all of this to try to give you an idea of what it was like for me to watch this powerful man made helpless, and dependent upon machines and medicines to save his life. It is easy, and often pleasurable for me, to feel helpless and dependant on him, because he is so much larger and stronger than I am. I feel vulnerable around him. He is older and more experienced than I am. I rely on him quite a bit. I let myself believe that he's every bit as unstoppable as he seems.
But suddenly I found myself being the much stronger of the two. A little pill that has little to no effect on me, damn near killed him.
The fact is that despite all appearances, in the end Red is every bit as vulnerable as I am. He is my foundation because he chooses to be, and I can believe him to be unstoppable because he lets me. And I simply cannot take that for granted.
I am a very lucky woman to have Red with me. We're both lucky that his doctors are so capable and that the treatments have been so successful. Red has been getting stronger every day, and has even felt strong enough to threaten me with spankings for various minor misdeeds. And while I, of course, argue that I should not be spanked, I can help but feel so very grateful that he's strong enough to make the threat, and getting strong enough to follow through.
We got lucky. The doctors say there is an excellent chance that there will be no lasting damage to Red, though if we'd waited just a couple more hours to go to the ER, I'd be posting something much much different right now.
What happened? Well, I won't post the name of the drug, because I don't want to freak anyone out, and I don't want to get sued by the company. But Red took a very common over-the-counter pain killer, and turned out to be the one-person-in-a-million who has those horrible adverse reactions they list in the commercials that most people ignore. His kidneys shut down. His heart nearly stopped. All because his foot hurt and he popped a pill.
I had a lot of time to think while I was sitting in that hospital chair. Though most of it didn't relate directly to DD, in a lot of ways, it related indirectly, so I thought it worth posting here.
The thing about Red is that he's a pretty private guy, and not many people know him very well. If they did, they'd know that no matter what assumptions you make about the guy, you're probably wrong.
For example, Red is physically the kind of spanker-man about whom most women with our particular preferences would dream. He's a big guy, even "larger than life" in some ways, and when he wants me to go somewhere (such as the bedroom for a nap, a spanking, or something else), he has no trouble getting me there. He's both an immovable object and an irresistable force when he wants to be. He seems unstoppable.
Because of his appearance, most people assume he's a meat and potatoes kind of man. But Red doesn't eat red meat. Red doesn't eat fried foods, fatty foods. He has a rather conservative diet.
Because of his incredible knowledge (Red is at the top of his field and has been becoming rather well known in his area of work), people assume that he knows everything. And sometimes I think so too. They'd never guess that Red has an incredible weakness when it comes to figurative speech. It quite frequently happens that Red needs to come to me after speaking to a client and ask me what a certain commonly-used metaphor means.
People also assume that Red is, just as he calls himself, "insensitive and uncaring." This may be true about some things, but Red has revealed himself to me over the years to be one of the most sensitive people I've ever met. The same man who warned me that we would not go through extreme and costly measures to save an animal's life when we adopted our first dog is now going through hell and high water to keep the poor, elderly, senile creature alive.
I tell you all of this to try to give you an idea of what it was like for me to watch this powerful man made helpless, and dependent upon machines and medicines to save his life. It is easy, and often pleasurable for me, to feel helpless and dependant on him, because he is so much larger and stronger than I am. I feel vulnerable around him. He is older and more experienced than I am. I rely on him quite a bit. I let myself believe that he's every bit as unstoppable as he seems.
But suddenly I found myself being the much stronger of the two. A little pill that has little to no effect on me, damn near killed him.
The fact is that despite all appearances, in the end Red is every bit as vulnerable as I am. He is my foundation because he chooses to be, and I can believe him to be unstoppable because he lets me. And I simply cannot take that for granted.
I am a very lucky woman to have Red with me. We're both lucky that his doctors are so capable and that the treatments have been so successful. Red has been getting stronger every day, and has even felt strong enough to threaten me with spankings for various minor misdeeds. And while I, of course, argue that I should not be spanked, I can help but feel so very grateful that he's strong enough to make the threat, and getting strong enough to follow through.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Coming Around
Shortly after my last post in March, Red and I entered marriage counseling. Though we're not talking about DD with our therapist, it is pretty clear to me that some aspects of DD have strengthened our relationship. For example, our therapist is extremely impressed with our communication skills. In our first couple of sessions, after Red would tell her something, she'd look at me and ask, "did you know about this? Have you talked about this before?" It only took a couple of sessions for her to figure out that there is nothing that Red and I haven't told each other. There have been no shocking revelations between us in therapy. I think we're a challenge for her... she mentioned to me that most couples use therapy to learn how to communicate, but since Red and I clearly already know how to communicate, we're way ahead of the game.
On the other hand, our DD is still on hold. I asked Red a couple of weeks ago if we were returning to it. He said he wanted to "earn it back." So we're both earning it back.
In the meantime, I've been working like crazy on figuring myself out. Red and I have our challenges... some pretty big ones, since we've both had rough pasts. I wish I could go into more detail, since I'm sure some of our experiences may help others, but since they aren't really related to spanking or DD, and because I respect Red's privacy, I can't go into them. Anyhow, added to our emotional challenges are our physical challenges... Red has been ill for 2 and 1/2 years now. I was recently diagnosed hypothyroid (which appears to have been causing much of my depression for years), as well as dysautonomia. My treatment involves medication that alters my hormonal balance, which means that I am relearning what makes me tick on a hormonal level. PMS is a bit more severe for me now, but also a bit more predictable, so it is all a matter of learning how to deal with it.
I'm also trying to get my spanking mojo back. I know it is around here somewhere. I think when Red and I were starting to have some of our most serious conflicts, I pushed that part of myself aside in order to cope. I simply have not been able to take it back on yet. I feared for a while that I'd somehow inadvertently "cured" my spanko-hood. But after a serious case of the spankin' hornies came around a week or so ago, I have faith that it will return in time.
Anyhow, I just wanted to let anyone who might still read my blog know that Red and I are coming around. We're piecing things back together and will hopefully be in a position to start implementing DD again soon.
On the other hand, our DD is still on hold. I asked Red a couple of weeks ago if we were returning to it. He said he wanted to "earn it back." So we're both earning it back.
In the meantime, I've been working like crazy on figuring myself out. Red and I have our challenges... some pretty big ones, since we've both had rough pasts. I wish I could go into more detail, since I'm sure some of our experiences may help others, but since they aren't really related to spanking or DD, and because I respect Red's privacy, I can't go into them. Anyhow, added to our emotional challenges are our physical challenges... Red has been ill for 2 and 1/2 years now. I was recently diagnosed hypothyroid (which appears to have been causing much of my depression for years), as well as dysautonomia. My treatment involves medication that alters my hormonal balance, which means that I am relearning what makes me tick on a hormonal level. PMS is a bit more severe for me now, but also a bit more predictable, so it is all a matter of learning how to deal with it.
I'm also trying to get my spanking mojo back. I know it is around here somewhere. I think when Red and I were starting to have some of our most serious conflicts, I pushed that part of myself aside in order to cope. I simply have not been able to take it back on yet. I feared for a while that I'd somehow inadvertently "cured" my spanko-hood. But after a serious case of the spankin' hornies came around a week or so ago, I have faith that it will return in time.
Anyhow, I just wanted to let anyone who might still read my blog know that Red and I are coming around. We're piecing things back together and will hopefully be in a position to start implementing DD again soon.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
It's Over
In a screaming match today, Red and I ended our discipline arrangement. Or rather, perhaps, we acknowledged that it was already over. I'm not sure the difference matters, if there is one.
I don't know what this means for me, for Red, or for this blog. I'm kind of a mess right now and I'm trying not to think too much about anything. It's just easier not to think if I don't have to.
I don't know what this means for me, for Red, or for this blog. I'm kind of a mess right now and I'm trying not to think too much about anything. It's just easier not to think if I don't have to.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
To DD, or Not To DD
I should start this by admitting that there are numerous holes in my logic, and I'm feeling incredibly frustrated and therefore I'm somewhat irrational. I know that. Having gotten that out of the way, here is what is going on.
It has been a very rotten health month for both Red and me. Red still has his illness, and I've been diagnosed not only with hypothyroidism, but also neurocardiogenic syncope. That's a fancy medical term for "faints frequently." I had a tilt table test about a week ago which I "failed" spectacularly. Not only did I pass out remarkably fast, but I had almost no warning signs (such as nausea, or something like that).
I've been fainting fairly regularly. I figure it is because of stress. The doctor gave me medicine to help stop the fainting, but the side effects were even worse than the fainting, so I had to stop taking it. In the mean time, I'm not supposed to be driving. The doctor said nothing about not doing other things, but Red is with me regularly, so I haven't been allowed to do much.
I am absolutely crawling out of my skin. The weather is finally getting nicer, and I am absolutely DYING to pull down my Christmas lights, but Red would pop a vessel if he caught me on a ladder. I've been trying to get smaller things done around the house, but I've fallen over several times from dizziness. It seems that this past week the only thing I've been able to do is sit on the sofa and watch television.
Red has been doing his best to deal with his illness and has been working his sick butt off to please his clients who are all clammoring for his help. I suppose we are fortunate that his business is increasing as so many others are experiencing a decrease in business. We're struggliing with bills, particularly medical bills, so we can't afford to turn away the work. But I'm having a really difficult time with the lack of attention. His energy goes either to dealing with his illness or dealing with his work. It seems to me that he only finds time enough for me when he is telling me not to do something.
There has been no spanking. There has been very little intimacy. I feel absolutely useless to my poor husband and I'm going NUTS because I can't seem to do anything to help. But I know that if I exert myself much I'm likely to faint or at least lose my balance and fall over.
The thing is, as much as I know Red is right in telling me not to do this or that, I really REALLY don't want to listen to him. And if DD in our marriage is only going to mean that he gets to boss me around and I have to listen to him without getting any of my emotional needs met, then I really want no part of it. I definitely do not want a divorce, so please don't think that is where I'm going with what I'm about to say... It's just that I've been thinking a lot lately about how much easier it was when I was single. I got to do my own thing, make all my own decisions, and somehow I managed to survive just fine. Why is it now that I'm married and have a partner to "support" me that I feel so damn unstable?
It has been a very rotten health month for both Red and me. Red still has his illness, and I've been diagnosed not only with hypothyroidism, but also neurocardiogenic syncope. That's a fancy medical term for "faints frequently." I had a tilt table test about a week ago which I "failed" spectacularly. Not only did I pass out remarkably fast, but I had almost no warning signs (such as nausea, or something like that).
I've been fainting fairly regularly. I figure it is because of stress. The doctor gave me medicine to help stop the fainting, but the side effects were even worse than the fainting, so I had to stop taking it. In the mean time, I'm not supposed to be driving. The doctor said nothing about not doing other things, but Red is with me regularly, so I haven't been allowed to do much.
I am absolutely crawling out of my skin. The weather is finally getting nicer, and I am absolutely DYING to pull down my Christmas lights, but Red would pop a vessel if he caught me on a ladder. I've been trying to get smaller things done around the house, but I've fallen over several times from dizziness. It seems that this past week the only thing I've been able to do is sit on the sofa and watch television.
Red has been doing his best to deal with his illness and has been working his sick butt off to please his clients who are all clammoring for his help. I suppose we are fortunate that his business is increasing as so many others are experiencing a decrease in business. We're struggliing with bills, particularly medical bills, so we can't afford to turn away the work. But I'm having a really difficult time with the lack of attention. His energy goes either to dealing with his illness or dealing with his work. It seems to me that he only finds time enough for me when he is telling me not to do something.
There has been no spanking. There has been very little intimacy. I feel absolutely useless to my poor husband and I'm going NUTS because I can't seem to do anything to help. But I know that if I exert myself much I'm likely to faint or at least lose my balance and fall over.
The thing is, as much as I know Red is right in telling me not to do this or that, I really REALLY don't want to listen to him. And if DD in our marriage is only going to mean that he gets to boss me around and I have to listen to him without getting any of my emotional needs met, then I really want no part of it. I definitely do not want a divorce, so please don't think that is where I'm going with what I'm about to say... It's just that I've been thinking a lot lately about how much easier it was when I was single. I got to do my own thing, make all my own decisions, and somehow I managed to survive just fine. Why is it now that I'm married and have a partner to "support" me that I feel so damn unstable?
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