the housebitch

OK, so I've been using my voice now that I found it. I'm trying to ask for what I need, express my feelings and just plain speak more--my goal was to use at least 2-3x the words that I used to. The problem I now face is that I hear myself sounding like a bitch. I seem to be speaking a lot about what needs to be done next in the home. Which makes me sound like a mother.

And although I am a mother, I'm not Andy's mother. And I do NOT want to sound like a nag. But why does no one see all these things that need to be done? As I see it, this leaves me with these alternatives:

1. Do it myself. Yes, frankly I do it best anyway, but what does that teach anyone? That they can continue to leave it to me. No thanks. I feel taken advantage of. Besides, if I just do it myself I will resent it. And we all know that resentment leads to a lot less fun in the bedroom.



2. Let it go. This works temporarily in the case of sneakers in the middle of the floor. Granted there are times when Andy trips over them and then moves them himself. But then there's the case of the closet in which clothes get tossed up onto the shelf. Over a period of time this grows into a pre-avalanche state. Or if no one goes to get groceries, we eat cereal for dinner and my kid eventually dies of malnutrition.



3. Ask for help. No matter how I do this, I hear myself as boss. Why do I have direct my housemates in what needs to be done? The frustrating part is that I shouldn't have to ask (the obvious). I shouldn't have to ask for the same things week after week. Can't everybody just put their dishes in the dishwasher, or run it when it is full? Or think about what dinner will be? I shouldn't be so hesitant to ask when others are quick to ask me to get/do something for them as they lay on the couch/bed because I am up anyway. Yes, because I am always up doing the things that need to be done! This annoys me and makes me feel like a servant. And then I feel guilty when I don't carry out the favor. Hmmph.



4. Leave. I could leave the house for hours and just let them fend for themselves. It's because when I am there I am the superhuman solver of all problems/inconveniences in the home that I end up doing too much. I have to find a way to stop. Ideally I'd like to start working in a great job where sneakers in the middle of the floor at home are the last things on my mind. They'd be better off without me (at home), and I think I'd be better off mentally. But until that job and I get hooked up, I have this little issue to deal with. Or better said, they have me to deal with.
   
   I feel the bitch in me just a-brewing. I need the cure.

finding my voice

I suppose as I look back on these days a year from now, it'll all be a blur. Kind of like a dream that floats from fantasy to nightmare and back and forth again. Visions of palm trees swaying in the ocean breeze give way to the incessant shrill of sirens and racing engines outside our bedroom window. It's sensory overload.

I made a conscious choice to seek a new kind of life that would challenge me to reach the next level--for my career, my social life, my love life. At the center of that new life is a man who is charming, brilliantly creative and totally in love with me. But also included in the package is a quirky artist who's pretty high strung sometimes, likes a lot of attention and has just a touch of an ego. OK, it's more than a touch, but it's not bad....really.

Andy likes to talk. He spends a lot of time talking...to me, to friends, basically anyone he can. It's another outlet for his creative energy I guess. I don't have that need. I usually prefer writing my thoughts and feelings over talking, unless, of course, I am coaxed with a beverage, or if someone shows great interest in what I have to say. Also I tend to clam up when things are bothering me, and as you know, things have been bothering me. Rob was great for drawing out all sorts of stuff from me, but Andy hasn't discovered the value in that yet. He's still learning me.

My point in all this chatter is that Andy's habit of talking a lot mixed with my tendency to be somewhat quiet, plus the anxiety I've felt trying to find my own identity here has led to me kind of lose my voice.

One day last week Andy and I had coffee with a friend of his I hadn't yet met. Wow, was I in for a treat. This woman, instead of talking about herself (which many people out here seem to do), asked question upon question of me! I suddenly rose to the occasion and enjoyed a real conversation with her. Like a long lost friend I heard my own voice speaking again. I did more talking in that hour than in all the time I've been out here.

And the best part of it all was that it made me feel good again. I felt real. I felt validated. It kind of bothers me that it took that conversation to realize what had gone wrong with me. But I didn't dwell on that. I tucked it in my pocket and took it with me for next time.

Last night after some sex play with Andy I voiced my opinion on something that normally I would have kept to myself. He responded perfectly. I can see that this new thing called communicating through spoken words is working, so I'm going to keep building on it.

It feels like I'm a long way from reaching the next level in my career, my social life and my love life. But if I find ways to reclaim my identity I think the power that comes from that will propel me to where I want to be even faster.

dark sex

I am a strong believer that you need to feel good about what you do. This applies to everything from how you earn a living, to what you eat, to killing a spider. If you repeatedly do some action that just doesn't sit right with you, there will be repercussions.

I have been following this philosophy for quite some time. I had settled into a routine life back in my small northeast town and therefore had the ability to assess everything new that tried to make its way into my world.

Since moving to Los Angeles, everything is turned upside down. Well, maybe that's an exaggeration. But for a woman who can get quite comfortable (bored yes, but comfortable) with routine, it sure seems like this is an extreme change to the life I knew! My point is that I am bordering on overstimulation in my new surroundings and have kind of lost my equilibrium, or sense of what's best for me. In this new, somewhat precarious position I now call life, I was not careful about what I let enter my world.

Here's Andy, my sweet, adoring boyfriend that I finally get to live with! As lighthearted, fun and talented as he is, the man has an affinity for some hardcore activities in the bedroom. I'm no prude myself, and honestly I found this aspect of our love life very attractive after having a very gentle, but passive boyfriend. Granted, Rob was an extraordinary lover, but it was unnatural for a guy with his loving nature to get down and dirty. Andy does not have that problem. In fact, he took me some places (sexually speaking) that really did it for me. And I wanted more of that.

So now we are living together and we are basically having sex as often as we like. Which is a lot. But there have been some instances where I found myself feeling bad after sex. Kind of defiled. The first couple times I didn't say anything. But finally I spoke up and told him that during those certain acts I can't feel his love for me. I don't mind being filthy dirty, but I need to sense his underlying love and care for me while he's holding my head in place, shoving his cock down my throat. I mean I hope he realizes in those moments that I need to breathe. What scared me about it most was that he might actually be getting off on the fact that he was hurting me, because I sensed that at the time. But when I told him that he had pushed me beyond my limit and that that was too dark for me, he apologized, and he's been much more considerate since.

There have been some other things he has done that I've felt not mentally ready for, but because they were pretty stimulating physically I let him continue. But later I was left feeling unsettled. I find myself in unchartered sexual territory with Andy, which is kind of surprising based on my experience.

I believe that the negative feelings I've had about some of our sexcapades led to trouble last week. Without getting into detail, I came down with a condition that not only halted our sex life for a couple weeks, but could change the way we relate to each other forever. It has not been fun and it is more than I am ready to deal with so early in our life together. I hope it doesn't damage our bond which is really only in its infancy. I think it will all depend on how we react and respond to each other from here on in.

Life has been kind of hard lately. I trust it will get better.