Reality

In spite of the fact that going through hot days in tight support hosiery isn't remotely comfortable, I've been quite content. I don't go out in the big, wide world more than I have to, but I have enjoyed my days at home. I have tolerated my ghastly tight stockings. That's the best I can say about that. I hate them with a passion.

Oddly, I have had trouble sleeping beyond 6 am,which I think relates to some hay fever. Some days, I work away at tasks until I am tired enough to possibly nap and it was like this yesterday.

When I woke, refreshed, it was time to get ready for a 'Sound Healing' meditation that I had registered for. Just before I left I opened my husband's study to say goodbye and only had to look at him to understand he was upset. I asked him what was wrong and this opened the floodgates to his frustrations with other people; what mistakes they had made; their incompetence.

I listened for a few minutes, and made the executive decision to proffer some advice, rather than just listen and nod, as I mostly do. This was my frustration taking over from what I know to be a better practice: nodding agreement.

'Going over the history of the thing isn't going to do any good. Let's just solve the problem. They'll need to attend at both times. It is their mistake.' (Don't worry that the dialogue doesn't make sense without context. Just notice that I already said too much.).

Giving advice isn't really a good strategy. Maybe it is, but one only knows this later, when one realizes the advice was taken. In the moment, it tends to make for more commotion, more energy that has to also be put out.

I'm not too shabby at noticing my internal reactions now and what I noticed was that I was immediately quite shaken inside. It wasn't that a mistake had been made, something not at all out of the way when multiple people are involved in a project, but rather it had brought on verbiage instead of problem solving and action. It can baffle me and confuse me. It's not that my husband wouldn't attend to the issue, but rather that I had difficulty understanding, as I always do, that he needed to unload his frustration on me. This is me denying reality.

I reached a point where I said that I needed to go and I'd be back soon with dinner. I was disappointed to go off to the Meditation feeling discombobulated but I was proud of myself that it was minor to the way I might have felt in earlier times where I might have put off going at all at this point.

Certainly, the thought still comes, 'if only he weren't so emotional and wordy', but I didn't let it derail my enjoyment of the session in any way and I was proud of myself for that.

On return, he still needed to go over this matter with me; still needed to air his frustrations, but I accepted that, 'This is the way it is. This is the way it is. You have strategies in place to deal with this best. You don't need to be upset that he is upset. It will pass.' I talk to myself in this way, settling myself and accepting the reality of the situation.

I made the salad, cooked the salmon. The frustrations began to lose hold over his mood and he even showed me later in the evening some plans for another project of his that he was clearly pleased about. His delight in this progress was obvious. I was proud of him that he could 'let go' in this way, even if just for a short time. This is the way it is. The moods ebb and flow according to the vagaries of the outside world and an inside world that alerts him to all the possible things that could go wrong.

For many years, I struggled and struggled in how to be happy living with a person who was so emotional, so wordy, so prone to moods that seemed to change with the wind and yet so willing to take chances that made me feel most unsettled. Some days he'd go off moody only to have a perfectly high functioning day whilst I had trouble shifting my low mood from the exchange. This was a big learning curve, to snuff off the moods of others and see it for what it was; their problem, not mine.

I would talk to him, explaining as best I could that I felt that he was "dumping" his worries on me. But, it's not something he has ever understood. He is not complaining about me, but to me, he would say. What was wrong with that? Interestingly, he's not the only man that has said that to me, as if they look at me and see a willing place to park their worries; as if I have the strength and fortitude for that.

It's still not a perfect score but most of the time I am now able to deflect the worry he expresses to me, worry that could lift a moment later, worry that is quite likely only in his head. He talks his worries out loud and this seems to be how he processes his worrying mind. It is what it is.

Ideally, that is, if I had the sort of life that would be perfect for me, I'd be left to live in my little bubble of happiness, noting the beauty of the natural world, creating in the kitchen, in the garden, through expression of my personal self, and passing on my contentedness to other people.

My husband likes to make the argument that he provides for and protects me through his handling of worldly matters. It's a fair argument and I can't deny the logic of it. I don't have an ambitious bone in my body, for me. I won't get to my death bed and regret the absence of a career.

Apples rarely fall very far from the tree. A few days ago, I had the opportunity to have a discussion with my oldest son about how he sees his future. He is with a girl who he will most likely marry and they will, most likely have children, he told me. He seemed not entirely passionate about this likely outcome and I expressed that thought to him.

'Like I don't have enough people to be responsible for,' he said in his blunt way. I laughed. 'Is that the way it feels, darling? (He rose fast in his career and does already carry a lot of responsibility.) 'I'm happy to go to work and make the money, but I think she'll have to be a stay at home Mum. She can have a little business from home, but I don't want to come home at the end of the day and listen to all her career worries.'

I was smiling away. I didn't stop the flow.

'I had just come home one day last week when the phone rang and it was Mike (the boss). 'G'day', I said to him, "I just walked in the door.' 'Do you feel like walking out again?' he said to me. 'Well, he has kids,' I said, 'it was probably still bath and feeding time. He was projecting his life and feelings onto you.'

'Yeah!' he said, 'I realized at that exact moment that Dad used to sit in the car when he came home and listen to the radio. As a kid I noted that but now I know why.' 'Yes,' I said, 'he was avoiding all the hub bub of family life. It's what guys sometimes do. Why walk into all that chaos when you can listen to the radio in the car. Some guys at  Daddy's work in America stayed at work late for this very reason.'

We were both laughing.

It's no co-incidence that I was a stay at home Mum. It is what we both wanted and what worked for both of us. Everybody needs their time of peace. Nobody finds it easy to change. It is what it is. Those who recognize and accept this do best.

It is what it is

Back in the early 80s I felt moved to buy a book simply entitled 'Emotions'. I haven't spotted it for many years but I think it is still on a book shelf somewhere. Thinking back, I must have been trying to understand my emotional states from a young age.

I do remember in that era feeling my emotions very intensely - love, anger, frustration, happiness. I remember one lunchtime standing at a pedestrian crossing and looking up the hill of Collins Street and feeling a burst of light-headed happiness at simply being alive in that moment, in that spot, on Earth. There was no particular reason for the onset of that emotion. It simply came over me.

I also remember, in that same era, being very disappointed one day by someone's behaviour. I remember going outside in my little garden and sitting on a chair and not moving at all for an hour; just trying, by way of complete stillness, to overcome my deep feelings of discombobulation and despair.

I have made a study of these emotional states, mainly because I aim not to feel life so intensely. I am not trying to mitigate the positive emotions; the swell in my chest when the sun finally made an appearance this morning after weeks of grey sky and rain, or the delight I experienced when on my walk yesterday I came upon a group of young children making a film.

However, I really could do without the derailing emotional moments when I might feel, that if only some people could behave a little more like I wished they would behave, life would be so much better. I hope you smiled when you read that last sentence because I do understand how silly that sounds. But, it would, wouldn't it, be so lovely if people didn't disappoint us?! I've struggled with this so, of wishing for change that isn't likely to come.

I did a meditation with a group last night and in the group was a young man I know who has a touch of Aspbergers. I am not sure if this is typical of the condition but he was saying that he came in for a session with a healer type of person when he realized that the mayhem he had caused in a group of friends didn't trouble him. He realized that the fact that he wasn't troubled by what he had done, didn't feel guilty, wasn't right, and so he chose to do something about it. I think that is quite an evolved state. So many other people would choose denial, or defence, against their behaviour.

It's frustrating to me to feel that sometimes I am speaking another language; that my choice of words are not really going to make a difference to the outcome. I'm just not going to get through to some people. I struggle with the fact that they are not going to change. At all.

Years ago, going through a dilemma, I remember saying, 'Just tell me when it will end. If you can give me a finishing date then I can work towards that.' I meant that I wanted an idea as to how long I needed to hold on. The thought of being in turmoil endlessly was too much, so just tell me how long I need to be brave, and then I can measure it, control it, contain it; make do.

As time has gone by I have come to realize that some things don't actually change because it doesn't occur to people that they need to change. 'Oh, that's Mary' someone will say. Or, 'Jack is always late'. Or, 'Sally always put herself first'. Or, 'Meg would do anything for you. She's always been like that.' If you wait for someone to change to suit your specifications, you'll be waiting a long time.

I sat and contemplated my frustration for a time yesterday. I could feel the frustration sitting in my chest; bubbles of upset that refused to scatter. It became apparent over the day that being still wouldn't help me so I called the dog and off we went for a long walk. It's my own expectations and hope for change that causes me such grief. It's a sense of 'acceptance' that brings me peace; acknowledging the constancy of behaviours.

I understand that communication is considered the key to people coming to a mutually acceptable outcome, but what if only one person requires change; if the only mutually acceptable outcome is that there is no change. Isn't it then official that one person is left to sit terminally with their dissatisfaction? Does the offical status make it better?

Looking for answers, I read that when frustrated it is a sign that the way you are doing something doesn't work, and that this tells you that you need to make a change in the way you are going about it. This makes sense but it doesn't speak to the notion that to expect some people to change is to bang one's head against a brick wall, no matter which strategy you use. They have to want to change themselves, not you wanting them to change. What are the chances?

So, I think the change has to come from within. Accept that some things and some people don't change. Minimize the damage to your mind. It is what it is. That feels so much better.

Thoughts about 'Le Weekend'

I listened to Hanif Hareishi speak on the radio recently. Immediately, I was itching to see the film he had written which has just been released here - 'Le Weekend'. Nick and Meg, a couple from London, around 60 years old I'd say, have decided to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary in Paris.

We're given endless visual clues as to their relationship before they have exchanged words.  On the Eurostar it is clear they are very much a couple, able to predict what the other is thinking. There's closeness there, for sure, but there is also an unnerving frustration with one another. When Nick starts to feel around his body Meg assures him he has the Euros, in an exasperated 'I knew you would do that' sort of way. When Meg catches a glimpse of the hotel Nick has booked (she did say she wanted to return to the hotel they'd stayed at many years ago) her disappointment is clear.

When Nick is unable to secure a room that is not "beige" she simply hails a taxi, leaving Nick scampering after her before she sails off in the taxi without him. One immediately gets the feeling that Nick is trying to satisfy Meg, but it is no easy task.  One also gets the feeling that Nick's best years are (he's a Professor who has not published...) behind him. "Ohhh, Meg, don't do this," he calls out after her. The thing about their relationship is that it is always on the knife's edge. We just don't know, and they just don't know, which way it is going to go.

It's this understanding of 'opposites' in the writing that makes it so watchable as a movie I think. Love can turn to hate and back to love within seconds. Frustration is just a hair's breath away from enthusiasm. Their emotions, the atmosphere and the course of this weekend changes direction endlessly. One example that springs to mind is their choice of a restaurant for their first lunch.

It's abundantly clear that Nick will be happy with anything that makes Meg happy and as they go about their search,  a passing parade of restaurants, Meg announces what is wrong with them. "Too modern" On they walk. "Too empty" On they walk. "Too touristy." On they walk, and so on, until Meg announces that they have found the right one. I recall Hareishi stating in the interview that he wanted to explore various topics, like intimacy, but he wanted to make it light; for it to be funny. I saw many moments such as these very funny, more funny than the audience at large, but maybe that's because my husband and I have done similar things; searched for the perfect restaurant overseas in a similar way. Haven't all couples done similar things?

What is also interesting about the writing is what happens when a third character is introduced. Morgan is a media-star academic from the States who has looked up to Nick as something of a mentor. They meet on the street by chance at a moment when Nick and Meg are being very affectionate. Morgan (played by Jeff Goldblum) invites them to dinner the following evening to celebrate the publishing of his new book. Morgan has plenty of money, a beautiful apartment and a lovely new wife who is pregnant.

When Nick and Meg take their first glance of the chic living room filled with 'the beautiful people' (academics and publishers) I mistakenly think they are enthralled at the possibilities of what the evening might bestow. Every guest has a major achievement of one kind or another to his name. In fact, they are both profoundly uncomfortable and seek out independently the most private corners of the apartment they can find.

It's when Nick is befriend by Morgan's young adult son in his bedroom that we learn that all is not entirely perfect in Morgan's world. His former wife tried to kill herself when her husband left them and although Morgan buys his son airline tickets to visit he is uncomfortable when they are in the same room. When Nick discusses with Morgan how he felt about leaving his wife he glosses over.  "She adores me," he says of the new wife. "Doesn't everyone want to be adored?" And moments later, "but she will see through me eventually." Wow. Such insecurity and vulnerability on display. There's a superficiality on display as well that makes Meg and Nick's relationship, their durability, seem wholesome and right by comparison, in spite of all the cracks.

At the end there's some kind of vague coming together, if you will. It allows you to leave the cinema without a sense of doom. There's hope for a future together without so much angst and "fury", as Meg puts it. Yet, I can't quite reconcile the sexual side of things. A comment by Nick about Meg's vagina makes it clear she hasn't wanted to be touched in years and although there is the odd stray kiss and rub, their sexuality is frozen. Nick only wants and has only ever wanted one woman, his wife, but Meg seeks more - to do things she hasn't done, whether that is to take up tango dancing and leave her teaching job, to have the thrill of leaving the restaurant by the back without paying the bill, or whatever pleases her. In fact, she has gone slightly mad in this process, buying items and meals she can't afford and putting them "on the room". "Its my mantra," she says to the sales assistant in the clothing store at the hotel.

In some senses, the whole situation is an aberration. She has major flaws and so does he. Life isn't ideal for either of them but they are deeply bonded, not just by history and their children, but by some deep mechanism that no other man or woman can put asunder. No-one else has a real chance of breaking their union, now or ever, because they both have strong doses of empathy for one another, and they both have a sense of humor about life and about one another. You just know they won't part.

Personally, watching their relationship unfold on the screen left me a little depressed. I deplore with every bone in my body the thought of aging without a sense of sensuality and sexuality in my life. Meg's "fury" relates to that, in my opinion. She wants a sexual relationship. She's simply allowed  and Nick has also allowed things to get in their way. They argue over whether they should allow their adult son to return to the family home with the wife and baby when this should be their time.  If Nick really wants Meg, then why would he allow it, her mind seems to be asking. Is she also asking herself, I wonder, if he really wants me then why isn't he more forceful about it??

If you really think about this film (if you do see it) Nick doesn't enable a situation where Meg can follow his lead and Meg doesn't allow Nick the opportunity to lead. Meg chooses the restaurants, places to go, exploits they get up to and the sexual tension or lack thereof. She says she is nodding off to sleep when he suggests sex. She attempts a scene where he is on his knees and looking up her skirt, only to walk away and thus humiliating him. She buys all the goods and services they can't afford and he just goes along. Though, he does do the damage to the hotel wall. This is indeed his stunt and she voices no alarm about it.

It's only when she hurts him by mistake and draws blood that he tells her in a deep, no-nonsense voice to show him her breasts. She complies immediately. She looked to me like she liked that instruction and enjoyed the tinge of fear in the air when he was cross with her. But, they didn't explore this dynamic further; were too comfortable in their frustration with one another to do that.

Ultimately though the third party allows Nick and Meg to join forces again. When all seems lost and it seems we can't go any lower she remembers and shares something - a conversation on the phone with Nick recently when she was laughing and engaged and her friend thought it must be a lover, certainly not her husband. She saves the day this time just as he saves the day at other moments. In this way, the relationship is wonderfully balanced.

In a sense, the frustration is directed not so much at one another as at life. When did they grow old? When did they use up their youth? Why can't they have fun; laugh; be frivolous; ridiculous; irresponsible? As they have shared life's journey so too will they share old age; sometimes angry; sometimes frustrated; sometimes empathic; sometimes loving one another and sometimes hating one another. It will go on. There is no other alternative for their love. Wonderful writing and fabulous acting throughout the movie. If only such a film for grown ups were not such a rarity.

Restraint

Somewhere in my reading last week, I read of one woman who was told that she may not touch herself for a week. She was doing remarkably well when on the sixth day she succumbed and had a most pleasurable orgasm. Her thinking was along the lines of, "I need this today. I'll worry about the consequences tomorrow."

Well, first of all, I think being told not to touch yourself for a week is asking a great deal so I give her full credit for lasting six days! Delayed gratification is something I can find difficult, although I also find difficult the consequences too really. I'm not fond of people being very cross with me and on more than one occasion I've berated myself for not just doing as I was asked. However, I can certainly empathize with the thought process that six out of seven ain't bad.

I've been sleeping on my own for the past week and my sleep has been quite disrupted because there has been too much opportunity to let my hands stray. On one night I considered tying my wrists together so that I could get a good night's rest. Fortunately, my husband returned home last evening and whilst I woke up in a similar way in the early morning I mentally acknowledged the desire but also mentally told myself that it was a darn good thing that I couldn't succumb to my desires. I folded my hands together as in prayer, a testament to my resolve, and duly went back to sleep for a couple of well needed hours of sleep.

There's a big part of me that very much likes the idea of orgasm control. Chastity belts come up in my thoughts regularly and I love photographs of a woman restrained into a chastity belt. I read once that a Dominant kept his submissive in a chastity belt (apart from cleaning and so on) for a six month period and that was not a dreadful thought for me; not at all. I feed off such thoughts.

I like the challenge of seven days without touching myself. I can't imagine my mind thinking of a darn thing other than my own desire for pleasure. Perhaps the need fades as time goes on. I very much doubt this myself. On the seventh day, I can imagine myself counting down the minutes. Maybe I'd get on with writing assignments and put pleasure out of my mind, or, maybe I wouldn't be able to write a thing so muddle-headed with the desire for pleasure I couldn't think straight.

Of course, the fact that I've been told that I can't have or do something is a truly enticing notion. I'd like to think I've progressed enough where the verbal instruction would be enough and I could exhibit restraint. On one level, it would be absolute torture but on another, deeply arousing. It would be an extraordinary act of grace to have my hands tied at bedtime and just give me a hand (by taking away my hands) but I do understand the idea is to use one's mind alone to show resolve sometimes.

When the woman in question told her Dominant of her transgression the whole time period started all over again. It lasted until they saw one another again which, I think, made it even a bit longer than seven days and I think she was starting to wonder if her life was truly worth living if orgasms were to be spaced out in this way. I so get that. On the other hand, what was he do? Well, I think he removed his Dominance from her, as I recall, and that's when the penny dropped. (Oh my, do I get this part...) She suddenly realized that delayed gratification was much, much easier than the removal of his services and I think it is this knowledge that allows her to move forward into this new time period of no touching.

I'm in a particularly desirous mindset; a desire to prove my mettle and to enjoy succeeding. I'm keen to get back in the hunt, out with pack and on with the game. I'm feeling decidedly playful and ready for challenge and I truly do think that I might be able to follow such a command, should be it ordered. I do little tests on myself, actually and I tell myself I can't do this or that for a couple of days and see what happens. Well, I can follow my own instructions with some degree of success but then again, I've never said to myself, "This time it is seven days" because I just couldn't do that to myself.

Temperament

When you pick a puppy from the litter or when a child is born, right then you have pretty much all the information you need about the temperament of that animal or child. Our male dog desperately needs regular doses of love and attention and he has an 'almost human' aspect about him. He's needy and he's the one that will whine when I leave them tied outside a store for a minute or two. The female, his sister, is much more independent. She has patience and she defers to her brother always. His appetite is voracious and he's happy to steal her food but in all other ways he's very doting and caring about her. Most of these characteristics were evident the moment we laid eyes on them. They were the last two of the litter and though we came for one dog, of course we went home with both of them

My children's temperaments were discernible immediately. My first son was active even inside me and he came out biting at the bit to get on with life. He was sweet from day one and this is how he has remained: active and sweet; a gorgeous, gorgeous boy; a born leader. My daughter was clearly independent. Impossibly late to be born (but amazingly the obstetrician allowed me to wait to give birth to her naturally) she was independent, feisty, stubborn yet very sweet from day one. She has remained just so.

My third child is a mellow child; loving; happy; specific in his needs and interests from the get go and so he has remained. He persists and lives life according to his own creed; a delicious sense of humor and fun was and remains present. My last child was always particular and always sweetness and light. He needed all things done his way but over time I see him adjusting and the flexibility increasing as he moves in and out of groups. He is a hugger; always considerate; always loving; deeply creative and smart. So, I have been very lucky: four beautiful, loving children.

My daughter has the temperament of her father. What I mean is that she has a trait of his that needed some adjustment. Just like my husband, she has a temper and she likes things done her way. They clash. What a surprise! Over the years, they have had some real ding dongs. They had a 'blue' on our old boat a few years back and the wind was in such a direction that I could hear every word from the house. If someone had asked if I knew who they were I would have denied any knowledge of either of them.

Since she has been living with us over the past few months, the environment has been fairly peaceful. For one thing, she's completely immersed in her new boyfriend and for another, she's really trying to be very sweet to her father; to approach him with caution and to use a great deal of tact and finesse when interacting with him.

Unfortunately, yesterday morning there was a blow out. Let me preface my comments by saying that my goal in life is to keep the family functioning on a even keel. I do lots of tasks to ensure that my husband need not get involved. He'd be lucky to tell you where items in the kitchen are, or how to fill a lunch box and so on because he is not involved and never has been involved in this sort of minutiae. This has worked and worked very nicely.

Yesterday morning was my last day to leave the house by 6.10 am for my special yoga breathing session in the park in the city. My son needed to be at school by 7.20 for a rehearsal and my daughter generously offered to take him before she had to be at her place of employment associated with the post-graduate work she is undertaking. I'd told my son his lunchbox would be packed. However, my husband, in his infinite wisdom decided to work right throughout the night and was having an early snack as I was about to make the sandwich.

"No. No. I'll do that. You get going or you'll be late."

"Are you sure?"

"I can make a sandwich. Go."

I left, with apprehension. The story goes like this, and is a compilation of my husband's and my daughter's version. She could see her brother was about to be late and seeing that my husband was preoccupied said that if he hadn't made the lunch they'd have to go without it. My husband, aware that he had become distracted yet again and not made the sandwich felt aberrant about that and somewhere in there they snarled words at one another and the heat and tension rose until she left for work upset and he remained upset, telling me about her temper when I arrived home.

Clever girl that I am, I said very little and merely listened. I've learned my lesson from past experiences about making judgements over their behavior. But, when my daughter came home that afternoon she wanted to talk and she was clearly still upset by it.

"I've been trying so hard with him but he is just so difficult..."

"I think you hit the 'guilty' button and once that is hit he says things that he doesn't mean. He gets defensive. You know this. You know he won't change."

"I told you that. Remember in the past, I told you that he wouldn't change when you were upset."

I smiled. "Yes, Yes you did. And, you were right. I've accepted him. I've even embraced him. He's a wonderful man with a temper. That is all there is to that."

Now, she smiled.  Just before she went off to her party that evening she found him and came and hugged him. Neither made any effort to say "sorry" both acknowledging it was better to let it go. And, that's fine.

There was one previous clash a month or so ago and that time she went to her boyfriend for an ear.

"You'll never win," he told her.

She told me that and I told her that he was clearly insightful. He was very right.

At first, I wasn't sure about this boy of hers. He definitely needed some rough edges rubbed off him but that is happening very nicely now. Even tempered and calm, he is a fine complement for her. She's definitely a lot calmer since she met him and she's a lot happier now that we have embraced him and he has embraced us, too.

I think that there can only be one person with a temper in any union; only one emotional meatball in the spaghetti. The other needs to have steadiness and an ethereal quality about them if at all possible.

That's when our marriage became so much better too; when I not only accepted that my husband's temper was here to stay but I embraced it. He is a lovely, lovely man with a temper and he probably came out of the womb that way. I may not always manage to remain level headed but then again I'm human and not an angel.

I recently asked my oldest son (my husband's number 1 fan) if he thought Dad could ever find another woman to live with him if something happened to me...

"No way, Mum. You're the one in 10 million."

I told you he was sweet!   

Entrapment

I have always felt a close attachment to males; not just to my husband but to many men in my life: my father, my brother, my ballet master and any one else who would allow me to get close. I have tended to make attachments to men and to get great succor out of knowing their minds. Frankly, I just enjoy their conversation and being around them.

I've tended to worry about this because unlike so many other women I know, I have preferred male to female company. One of the difficulties about marriage for me has been this assumption that underlies my life that I should be forging close relationships with women and not men.

This year, perhaps for the first time in my life really, I have really embraced my time with women. I regularly (weekly) have a coffee with two groups of women, at least, and I find this time incredibly comforting. We tend to laugh a lot. We tend to support one another through whatever the issue of the day happens to be and we are incredibly kind to one another. That is what I love about the time with them. It is not at all demanding and we provide care and approval for one another. As I said to my husband earlier today, they have all had such interesting lives and even though many of them are retired now, (I am the youngest member of my yoga group) they certainly have not retired from life. All their minds are as sharp as a tack and they have embraced me into their little circle as if they have known me all their lives.

This morning, seeing that I was clearly not myself, my husband hugged me and told me that I just need "to relax". I tried to explain to him that men sometimes made it hard for a woman to relax. They expected so much of women. They expected them to take on the worries and needs of men and at the very same moment, relax. I suggested that this was why women found women; perhaps why women entered lesbian relationships late in life sometimes; because they just needed to live life in a more relaxed environment.

I don't think I could be any more clear about the fact that my goal in life is to live it cerebrally and contentedly. I have always aimed to get to a place where the real world mattered much less. I don't mean that I don't care about what happens in the world because I do care very much. I mean that I look for a state of internal peace and a sense of satisfaction with life. I have always believed that we live in our head and that life is what we make of it. We must choose to be happy. We must embrace life and live it well. We only have one life so far as I know.

I believe that men gravitate towards women, towards having one woman to call their own not just because they need a mate to go through life with, but because women instinctively understand this about life. Women hold the keys to a peaceful state and men instinctively get it that to find joy they may need a woman to take them there. Of course, not all women know this and men can be disappointed when they realize this.

There are moments when the going gets too rough around men; the men I choose. They tend to be demanding men; men who ask a lot of women; who worry a bone better than I ever will; men for whom enough will never be enough. They exhaust me; frustrate me; make me question my tenacity and strength. Of course, I cannot live without them. They provide me with what I need in a way that a woman could never do. They call on something within that is intensely feminine and I need that.

My oldest son, who is inclined to write words on cards that bring tears to my eyes repeatedly said this to me on this most recent Mother's Day: "You were always there for me and I will always be there for you."

That is it. Perhaps it is one of my few strengths that I endure; that I go on loving and giving in all circumstances; that I just won't give up; on anyone or anything and certainly not in finding the joy in life. I am emotional. There is just no doubt about that. But, it is seen by only a chosen few - those who read here make up the vast majority. To the rest of the world I am "ethereal".

I have been fortunate to experience true and good friends who seem to innately know how to companion me on my journey. I think they see this gritty side of me: the side that exhibits distress but refuses to give up on a situation and rather than offering me advice, they simply sit beside me (figuratively speaking). I've felt their presence in my life lately even when we have not actually spoken and I have understood when their upset on my behalf has caused their opinions to spill over and be expressed. They know, bless them, that they cannot 'save' me because I respond to my own instincts at the end of the day.

Some one said something to me last night. He said that he knew what he was doing. Such supreme confidence! It impressed me at a moment when I needed to be impressed. And, as I write these words, I feel satisfied to add that I know what I am doing too. My inner compass drives me forward into terrain that is not at all easily navigated.

All I can say for certain is that I both lust for a settled mind at the very same moment that I lust for the company of men who can make that goal so hard to attain. A perfect world would be to live with the company of men and to also have a settled mind. Alas, I am drawn to emotional men; demanding men; wonderful and vibrant men. Poor me. Lucky me.

Feelings

Controversially, my husband has noted on several occasions that the biggest difficulty with dealing with young women out there in the workforce at this time is their feelings. He might call the bank to have an issue corrected only to find that the conversation has launched from the facts of the matter to the girl at the bank's feelings. My husband has not agreed with her findings, has told her so and somehow they are in the land of her feelings. He's too long in the tooth for this sort of thing now. He just wants the job done and move on. Trust me when I say that he can be an absolutely charming man whom women think adorable but if you use the feelings card with him when he wants something done, he won't have any time for it any more.

He is not alone. His associates complain of this matter and when I asked women at a lunch recently how they felt about this, they all agreed. The young woman today was very inclined to take umbrage at simple expression of insistence that the task be done to the customer's satisfaction. My husband has taken to hanging up the phone only to dial the same company until a man answers. He explains the issue and moments later he hears "Not a problem, Sir. Done." Ah! No mention of feelings!

My feelings has been an issue of contention with us over the years. When my husband is in a go-get-it mood, and he often is, he just wants things done and at times he can be short with me. On my good days, and most of them are good, I snuff it off. I can even enjoy it, in an odd sort of masochistic let's -get-the-girl-going sort of way. (I am not on these pages for nothing!) Occasionally, I get upset and I tell him that my feelings are hurt. Or, I might just snap back which always has him look at me as if to say, 'where did that come from?' I wonder!

In any event, a great deal of effort on my part has gone into getting control of my feelings. It is an exceptionally odd moment that this is ever an issue for me out there in the big wide world. My feelings being out of kilter and destructive to me and loved ones occur in the private domain. I might be upset with my husband's tone or my children's inconsideration. My challenge is to stay calm, and not allow the flood of adrenaline to overtake my brain allowing me to react in an out of control way. My task is to stay in control. It's the task I have given myself.

Whilst I have a pass rate on this task, I don't have a High Distinction and that really bothers me. Instead of waiting for the right moment to say something like, "I'd like to talk to you about..... I am a little confused as to why you said..." I tend to feel extreme agitation inside my body and I tend to make hasty decisions, finding it a virtual necessity to react instantaneously. I read lately that this is why people might eat foods they know they should not when they are upset. They are looking to change how they feel. I too am looking to change how I feel but instead of reaching for a chocolate teddy bear, I launch a Scud missile instead and get a momentary improvement in how I feel.

Of course, it only takes minutes for me to question my action but the deed has been done and of course, I have my "righteous indignation" to keep me warm for quite a while. There are moments of sanity. I sent off an email on Saturday (yeah, it's on my mind) and on Sunday I was wandering about the garden when I thought, 'Did I really write I was "humiliated"? Oh boy, that was over the top!!'

It gets worse. It turns out that it was a total misunderstanding on my part and by Sunday evening, I felt very, very silly. And, shameful. The whole day of upset could easily have been avoided for both parties if I had just taken control of my feelings and thought it through and acted sensibly with the end in mine.

I have read enough blogs of submissive women and know enough submissives to feel that my challenges are not uniquely mine. And, it says something of the value, integrity and warmth of the relationship that even amongst all this hullabaloo over the weekend that we managed to find a little humour in the next exchange and I like to think, brought us a little closer. Yes, some things should never have been said, but then some things were said that cleared the air, too.

I do know from long experience that feelings are not just the domain of the female or the submissive. I can most certainly hurt my husband's feelings and an argument with me can leave him terribly upset. Rupert Murdoch once said that the only person who could make him feel like a fool was Anna (his first wife). It is those we care about who have the ability to upset us the most. Our feelings are most hurt when the person (or people) who provide the most stability for us take the ground from under our feet (or at least, we momentarily think they do).

In essence this returns to what Mary said to me - that a passionate relationship is going to have push and pull. It is not a well received idea in BDSM circles but nonetheless it is true. People who care about one another are meant to challenge one another in some ways, to get the best out of one another and that includes the dominant and the submissive.

This whole emotional mine field of our feelings takes place amidst the formality of the power exchange relationship where one leads and one follows; one feeds and one serves, making feelings a very complicated issue to handle. I think there are just moments when in amongst those roles, the issues related to hurt feelings must be addressed and resolved. The skilled dominant will know how to get the submissive back in line and the true submissive will fall back into line without any further ado. Meanwhile, I stay calm. Of course!

Frustration

It pleased me to see upon a search of this web journal that I have very rarely mentioned 'frustration'. I mentioned it in the last post and according to the record, back in March 2009 when I wrote a post about 'anxiety'. That's not bad.

For, you see, I do experience considerable frustration. As I wrote to my husband just now,

"It is a very, very hard thing to live through someone else - for their wants and desires and ways of doing things; their priorities and their interests to be the sole arbiter of what happens; to expect a person to have eternal patience and to never express frustration and thus, by inference to never HAVE frustration."

Rightly or wrongly, I have tried my absolute best to be satisfied with living my life according to my husband's version of the world. From time to time, I mention that it will be great when we can do this or that, but apart from that, I really just nod when he tells me something, accept his decisions, patiently wait for him to attend to something (or not), and in a nutshell, just wait.

I've become good at this - at living according to the desires and decisions of another person; at keeping my frustrations well hidden and distracting myself in order not to be upset that the things that I would love to see take place, do not.

I think I could have gone on with this positive spirit almost forever...until that moment two days ago when I did express a very minor amount of frustration and experienced his wrath that I should do so.

I'm not an angel. I'm not a perfect person. I'm just one human being doing her best to be pleasing; patient, considerate, understanding, calm and patient.

I just can't seem to get over it. I am shattered that he can't apologize for upsetting me so.

I have asked him to look inside himself - to try to understand how hard I work to see the world through his eyes and to put aside my own wishes. For me, this was what it was all about - to make for a life of harmony - to find a way to go beyond the everyday.

I can't seem to bounce back up this time.

The Litttle Bridge

In my younger days (no, I'm not going to define "younger days"!!), I had a tendency towards the dramatic and if someone close to me (read: husband, boyfriend, boss, mentor) upset me enough they might find themselves listening to my "it's been great but it's over" little speeches. I'd be so mad that I felt I couldn't breathe properly until that person was expunged from my life.

Initially, I'd get a surge of adrenaline that had me high on my assertive action. But, within 24 hours I would usually feel remorse and regret. I had burned my little bridge and over something that was probably not a deal breaker in the scheme of things. If I'd kept my head, we could probably have worked something out.

When a bridge is burned, the possibility of return or retreat is impossible, according to the dictionary definition. But, I never let that idea get in the way of recovering a situation and I was never too proud to return to the scene of the crime to say that I think I had made a mistake. I would get angry for sure, but I also knew how to apologize too and to beg for forgiveness. So far, it has always been given, if not before a good telling off about my passionate and perhaps, over the top response.

When you burn something (remember guys, I'm no good at science) it combusts and when it combusts it changes. In other words, the burnt object undergoes a transformation. Now, some would say that all that is left of a burning bridge is a pile of rubble, but I would like to suggest that is not always the case. Sometimes, there is a small little bit of the bridge left to salvage and with hard work and ingenuity the bridge can be salvaged; even transformed into something more special than the original and intact bridge.

Don't believe me? Here's an example of what I mean. My husband and I are close friends with a couple who married and divorced many years ago. The marriage was fraught with issues related to his children from a previous marriage and in the end it was too much for both of them. They went their separate ways and lived on two separate continents. But, the original seed of affection and attraction refused to burn out. He would visit her when he went to the US for conferences and over time he wooed her back into his arms. When he proposed a second time, she said yes.

In front of friends and family in their beautiful garden, a year ago now, they said their vows for the second time. And, a year later, their union is better than it ever was before. It has transformed into one where they work together on their mutual goals; listen to one another and enjoy one another. They have grown as individuals and as a couple and the respect that was missing before is now evident. Not only that, there is no turning back. They walked away from a wreckage and survived. They have been through too much to let their second chance go to waste.

I have transformed now too in so many ways. I'm still passionate but not angry. I still can be hurt but no longer feel a desire to retaliate; to burn my bridge. I seek to understand the other. I choose to settle myself and forgive, reminding myself that this rather odd behaviour is merely an aberration.

Perhaps the hardest component for 'cindi' is that while she may ask a question, she may not receive an answer. Her concern or her upset often remains bottled inside her for the dolli doesn't worry or think very much. This is not an easy limit. The girl Vesta looks to heal and help but without adequate knowledge often the doll is just confused. She must wait, calmly and dispassionately for the dust to settle; for the embers to cool. Rather than allow the bridge to burn she must ensure that it is never set alight; that her bridge stays intact.

Cindi is peaceful, happy, content and full of joy. She thrives. Sometimes, she is confused and a little sad. But, she knows that there will be tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. With the bridge intact and in good order she will use it to make her journey over the troubled waters to firm and peaceful land beneath her feet.

Such is the power of the little bridge.

Sensitivity

Sadness overtakes me. Why have these few words hurt me so? Is it just a spilling over of emotion that will leave me as quickly as it appeared?

How much frustration should there be before it is too much? How hard should one try before the trying overwhelms?

For a girl who wants her spirits to soar, this girl can still be cut to the core.