Jesus Christ! Don't be kind to me.

So I have a new blues love....  He doesn't incite me with lust.  Well, not any more than any random man.  What he did was write and record a blues based submissive love album.  Can I take this as a positive sign from the Lord that my family is not in the right place to welcome a new baby?  Or maybe a forgiveness?  One reason for growing a new person would be a hormone reset.  I continue to struggle with the fucked that anti-depressants left with me.  Still, I don't regret the decision.  There wasn't much of a choice when I accepted them into my body.  My body.  Created by sex, intended for sex. My body.  Turned off by pills that masked, but not healed, the shit.  It still clung to me.  Fuck it.  I want my body back.  I have for a long time.

I will find my way back.  If this blog is proof of anything, it's that I can crawl my way back to reveling in sex.  Crawl my way back to who I AM.

I hit a fucking wall.  My knight, my lover, lost a bit of himself as I drained away.  I was so tired trying to pull myself back, I didn't know how to bring him with me.  Turns out what I needed was a new Siren's song.  A new baby musician had to make something sweet that could pull my heart, soul, and pussy back from fear.  I'm not afraid to forfeit responsibility.  Only afraid that it will be dropped when I let go.  Not afraid to be owned.  Only afraid that my owner is to busy fighting his own battles to take care of me.  I know that's true because my eyes fill with tears as I type it.

I know now.  I know from the way Hozier's voice makes me feel.  I know that I need to release for my knight to be in charge again.  We can't stand facing each other, waiting for the other to move first.  I don't want any other owner but him.  I will let go, and trust him to catch us both.  I know he intends to keep me.

The scars of our hearts

Alright.  So it's not a JW lyric. Give me a break.  This is my first ovulation cycle spent alone since coming clean from antidepressants.   My experience on mild medication was as difficult for me as it was for my Knight.  I started to slowly hate myself on the drugs. I spent a lifetime learning to love who I am, and being this completely different person, with different needs, was more less that helpful in the long run.  I put my whole self into trying them.  No guilt now that meds could make our life easier.  They don't.

It has been difficult becoming re-used to myself.  As we readjust to ME, we pass the 10 year mark of me living in this house with my knight.  I love that man. It took him more than five years to accept that I self-identify as crazy. To him, I am reasonable, even perfect.  He was the first man with an open heart that ever wanted ME. I joke when discussing the "interesting" aspects of my Knight, that no sane person would want me.  Probably that's true.  Who cares? An AMAZING person wants me.  And I love him. When he holds me I am not scared. I am scared almost all the time.  I can't go back in time and unscar my heart.  I wouldn't want to.  Me without the scars is not ME.  I'm the person this amazing man wants, loves. I have no regrets.  Not even the pain.  I don't regret it.  It reminds me that everything I want is in this house--the safety, the acceptance, the love, the children. In just a couple nights, that man, that knight, will hold me.  Rules about co-dependency can fuck off. He taught me that the scars are just what they are--the past.  If he is my constant reminder of that, and that is codependency, then call me codependent. 

A casual friend recently stepped up to delve into my deep feelings and said it was truly brave to share the dark in the first place.  She says if anything, I am brave, not codependent.  Maybe I'm  healing.  It's been years in the making. I want to heal. I want to love.