I'm thankful that I've had a much better day today than yesterday:
Spencer's still on a binge, but we have hardly argued, and he's sleeping right now. We did talk some last night about separating due to the drinking, though I don't know if he'll remember it when he sobers up. It tears my heart out to think of us not living together, but I don't know if I can continue and keep what's left of my mental health that I have.
Spencer didn't mind that I went to see Cary for a while today, either. [However, he wanted a 12-pack, so "he wouldn't go over to Kip's for it."] It felt like the extortion it was but I agreed, because I just didn't want to argue, and was in a hurry.
The time with Cary was a wonderful "mini-vacation" for my body and mind, and Spencer was happy for me when I got home. He was also happy that I brought home dinner lol
Working on a terrible tooth- and headache right now, and will be crashing out soon. I think I hurt my farthest back, right side, tooth on hard pizza crust *rolls eyes at myself* and it's made worse with the constant stress-clenching of my jaw.
I'd like to wake up tomorrow to a clean slate of sorts, between Spencer and me, with some more discussion in the evening of the direction we need to take.
If we can at least keep communicating we may be alright. But the more resentment I feel, the more I want to close off, and that's a feeling I've got to fight if I think our relationship is worth it.
Havin' an early night,
~Pym
Showing posts with label stress. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stress. Show all posts
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
First Experiences, Part III
In searching for ways to experience our chosen lifestyle and meet like-minded people, Spencer registered us on numerous adult web sites [and I think he has since quite enjoyed perusing profiles--especially the accompanying photos--guys are so visual!]
It really does take a lot of sifting through profiles on those sites to find legitimate people or couples with whom one has philosophies and interests in common; most are players or ads. After a lot of profile "screening," a woman with whom Spencer began corresponding would be our first let's-do-something-intimate-at-home encounter.
Sydney really was a sweet person: a single mom, intelligent, very pretty, and open-minded about sex and sexuality. We were invited to visit her at her work a few times to talk in person, and eventually we did invite her over to watch a movie, and see what might develop.
To begin with, this being our first planned meeting with someone made me anxious, even though I liked Sydney as a person. Also, Sydney unfortunately wore a perfume that was awful; it truly turned my stomach. I have no idea how Spencer could stand it, or even how she could wear it! I didn't want to hurt her feelings by saying anything, but by the time the movie ended I was about to be physically ill, and I should have spoken up then, but I didn't want to spoil the evening.
After chatting a bit when the movie was over, we all agreed that we'd try for Sydney to give Spencer a blow-job while I watched, then see if he could make her orgasm--no penetration--we all knew I wasn't ready for that. I did think I was ready for this "lite" encounter, but I felt so ill from the smell of her perfume, and my insides were churning from the anxiety of this new experience, that I was crying before it was all over.
I encouraged Spencer and Sydney to cut it short, and they knew I wanted her to leave--without being physically satisfied herself. Afterwards, I did feel bad for causing the evening to be halted, and I know both weren't happy with me, but it was all I could do to not vomit over the whole scene, which no doubt would have been mortifying.
When I explained the physical effect her scent had on me, Spencer understood, but needless to say, we heard from Sydney only once or twice after that. It was a dipping of our toes in the waters of non-monogamy and a learning experience, maybe for all three of us:
1) Verbalize limits as soon as you feel them
2) Be understanding if your spouse expresses discomfort
3) Don't wear pukey cologne
--Pym
It really does take a lot of sifting through profiles on those sites to find legitimate people or couples with whom one has philosophies and interests in common; most are players or ads. After a lot of profile "screening," a woman with whom Spencer began corresponding would be our first let's-do-something-intimate-at-home encounter.
Sydney really was a sweet person: a single mom, intelligent, very pretty, and open-minded about sex and sexuality. We were invited to visit her at her work a few times to talk in person, and eventually we did invite her over to watch a movie, and see what might develop.
To begin with, this being our first planned meeting with someone made me anxious, even though I liked Sydney as a person. Also, Sydney unfortunately wore a perfume that was awful; it truly turned my stomach. I have no idea how Spencer could stand it, or even how she could wear it! I didn't want to hurt her feelings by saying anything, but by the time the movie ended I was about to be physically ill, and I should have spoken up then, but I didn't want to spoil the evening.
After chatting a bit when the movie was over, we all agreed that we'd try for Sydney to give Spencer a blow-job while I watched, then see if he could make her orgasm--no penetration--we all knew I wasn't ready for that. I did think I was ready for this "lite" encounter, but I felt so ill from the smell of her perfume, and my insides were churning from the anxiety of this new experience, that I was crying before it was all over.
I encouraged Spencer and Sydney to cut it short, and they knew I wanted her to leave--without being physically satisfied herself. Afterwards, I did feel bad for causing the evening to be halted, and I know both weren't happy with me, but it was all I could do to not vomit over the whole scene, which no doubt would have been mortifying.
When I explained the physical effect her scent had on me, Spencer understood, but needless to say, we heard from Sydney only once or twice after that. It was a dipping of our toes in the waters of non-monogamy and a learning experience, maybe for all three of us:
1) Verbalize limits as soon as you feel them
2) Be understanding if your spouse expresses discomfort
3) Don't wear pukey cologne
--Pym
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Moving Backward...
This is going to be pretty much a stream of consciousness post; I'm not going to worry about paragraphs or spelling. I've had such a horrible past two nights that I've just got to get it out or I'm going to scream! I don't even know what details to give but suffice it to say Spencer is truly driving me insane. I think I'm going to end up in a hospital, or I'm going to put him in a hospital: either a rehab one, or because I've beaned him with a blunt object! And I know when he reads this he's going to only see reasons that he should leave; or reasons to do himself in. He'll fail to see another option: GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!
I think he's purposely trying to push me away; either so he can fulfill this self-destructive, self-fulfilling prophecy of "no one loves me or cares about me" or so I can be the ultimate bitch like his last live-in, fifteen years ago. He keeps saying, when he's drunk, you should leave me, you should divorce me. Maybe I should, but I'm not planning on it.
When he's sober and doing things such as going to our counselor, like just last Wednesday, there is always so much hope! But when he drinks, and then gets a Mr. Hyde personality like he has the last two nights, it's just a nightmare!
I don't know what makes the difference between the "good binges" [if they can really be called that] and these nightmare binges. He has such a self-destructive attitude. Friday night he was saying he didn't want to be here [life] anymore; that wait and he'll be gone. He punched the stove, slammed his fist on the counter, we argued, I cried, I tried to go to bed so he'd leave me alone, but he just follows me...talking...and talking...in my ear, practically smothering me while I'm lying there...sometimes saying scary things, sometimes mean things. I had to hold back from hitting him, which I've done in the past out of pure rage. I drank most of my 1/2 pint of brandy, to try to escape and keep calm; I took a 1/2 xanax. Finally he'd leave the room and I'd bawl my eyes out. Then he came back and finally fell asleep.
When he reads this he's, again, only going to see reasons he should leave or kill himself...I'm terrifying of him hurting himself... Or he's going to hold it against me that I've written all I've written. It'll make him look bad. He's said before [sober], I don't want to be that jerk that everyone points to and says, "there's that guy; he's a jerk; stay away from him" but yet his actions [drunk] push him into that category.
And I know this Mr. Hyde personality isn't really him; it's his terrors, and childhood traumas, and his fears coming out, like some kind of toxicity that seethes through his skin...but the real him is Dr. Jekyll, the loving, kind, smart, and funny person I married.
Gotta take a breath here.
I know I shouldn't be drinking either, and there's no excuse except my need of escape also. I want it so I can be calm and just fall asleep. I've had my own suicidal thoughts as well, and was tempted to down more than brandy, but I won't do that; I know how much a suicide in Spencer's family affected him, and I'd never do that to him or to my family.
That's something I just can't understand: he's so tormented by this suicide of a loved one, but he seems to think he can turn around and put me through that same torment and nightmare. How dare he even consider it? And I also can't fathom, knowing how much Spencer went through with an abusive alcoholic dad, how can it be okay to put me, and us, through it today? I know these are simplistic questions and the answers are multi-layered and oh-so-complex, but to just have him realize the irony would be a start.
Whew, I think I'm a bit spent now, but it feels so good to have gotten a lot off my chest!
I want to also add that Friday night, while I was bawling, I was saying inside, "I need a friend, I need a friend!" and after Spencer fell asleep and I got on the computer for a distraction, in the beautiful synchronicity of the Universe, I was message by a friend, Charlie--someone from my home state who I'd only just begun re-corresponding with in the last few months, a friend whom I love very much, and I thank him for listening to me and giving me some laughs and a lot of support.
Of course the next day, Spencer finds Charlie's cell phone number and asks me if I'm going to leave him. No, Baby, I am NOT planning on leaving you. If I ever do leave, it will not be for another person; it would be to regain my sanity and live by myself! I don't want to live with anyone else; I want to live with the man I married, but it's got to be a sane, productive, thriving existence; we've got the love mastered, how come we can't get the other stuff right?
I think he's purposely trying to push me away; either so he can fulfill this self-destructive, self-fulfilling prophecy of "no one loves me or cares about me" or so I can be the ultimate bitch like his last live-in, fifteen years ago. He keeps saying, when he's drunk, you should leave me, you should divorce me. Maybe I should, but I'm not planning on it.
When he's sober and doing things such as going to our counselor, like just last Wednesday, there is always so much hope! But when he drinks, and then gets a Mr. Hyde personality like he has the last two nights, it's just a nightmare!
I don't know what makes the difference between the "good binges" [if they can really be called that] and these nightmare binges. He has such a self-destructive attitude. Friday night he was saying he didn't want to be here [life] anymore; that wait and he'll be gone. He punched the stove, slammed his fist on the counter, we argued, I cried, I tried to go to bed so he'd leave me alone, but he just follows me...talking...and talking...in my ear, practically smothering me while I'm lying there...sometimes saying scary things, sometimes mean things. I had to hold back from hitting him, which I've done in the past out of pure rage. I drank most of my 1/2 pint of brandy, to try to escape and keep calm; I took a 1/2 xanax. Finally he'd leave the room and I'd bawl my eyes out. Then he came back and finally fell asleep.
When he reads this he's, again, only going to see reasons he should leave or kill himself...I'm terrifying of him hurting himself... Or he's going to hold it against me that I've written all I've written. It'll make him look bad. He's said before [sober], I don't want to be that jerk that everyone points to and says, "there's that guy; he's a jerk; stay away from him" but yet his actions [drunk] push him into that category.
And I know this Mr. Hyde personality isn't really him; it's his terrors, and childhood traumas, and his fears coming out, like some kind of toxicity that seethes through his skin...but the real him is Dr. Jekyll, the loving, kind, smart, and funny person I married.
Gotta take a breath here.
I know I shouldn't be drinking either, and there's no excuse except my need of escape also. I want it so I can be calm and just fall asleep. I've had my own suicidal thoughts as well, and was tempted to down more than brandy, but I won't do that; I know how much a suicide in Spencer's family affected him, and I'd never do that to him or to my family.
That's something I just can't understand: he's so tormented by this suicide of a loved one, but he seems to think he can turn around and put me through that same torment and nightmare. How dare he even consider it? And I also can't fathom, knowing how much Spencer went through with an abusive alcoholic dad, how can it be okay to put me, and us, through it today? I know these are simplistic questions and the answers are multi-layered and oh-so-complex, but to just have him realize the irony would be a start.
Whew, I think I'm a bit spent now, but it feels so good to have gotten a lot off my chest!
I want to also add that Friday night, while I was bawling, I was saying inside, "I need a friend, I need a friend!" and after Spencer fell asleep and I got on the computer for a distraction, in the beautiful synchronicity of the Universe, I was message by a friend, Charlie--someone from my home state who I'd only just begun re-corresponding with in the last few months, a friend whom I love very much, and I thank him for listening to me and giving me some laughs and a lot of support.
Of course the next day, Spencer finds Charlie's cell phone number and asks me if I'm going to leave him. No, Baby, I am NOT planning on leaving you. If I ever do leave, it will not be for another person; it would be to regain my sanity and live by myself! I don't want to live with anyone else; I want to live with the man I married, but it's got to be a sane, productive, thriving existence; we've got the love mastered, how come we can't get the other stuff right?
Saturday, January 2, 2010
New Year's Revelations
The first day of my new year I spent in self-inflicted agony after consuming a bottle of white zinfandel and a bottle of pink champagne New Year's Eve...which brings back the question: is Spencer the only one with the drinking problem? I don't want to answer it today, but it is something to think about.
Today's the second day into the new year, and I'm feeling miles better; but now Spencer is down for the count with a cold. It's my turn to care for him as he cared for me yesterday. He was kinder to me in my hungover state than I would have been to him, I admit.
We're doing some much-needed cleaning around our house, including going through years of papers belonging to us and to his recently deceased mom. Shredding and plowing through all this stuff is cathartic.
Something else that was cathartic for Spencer was, on New Year's Eve, while blazing drunk, he kept muttering "I've done you wrong, I've done you wrong." Of course one can't say that and not expect the other person to keep prying as to "what is it you've done??" Being that I was also three sheets to the wind, I figured I wasn't going to care much whatever it was.
It turns out that, before we were actually married but after we'd become a couple, Spencer had some sexual exploits about which I was not informed. He says he cheated but as we weren't married yet, I can't use as strong a word. And since I'd out-and-out cheated in my first marriage, I don't have much of a leg to stand on anyway. I'm just truly glad that he feels better for having told me. And really the timing couldn't have been better seeing as how I was happily toasted at the time of the revelation.
I'm oddly not mad at all. We've been married a few years now and anything before seems so long ago anyway. I did take the opportunity while the air was being cleared to tell Spencer about a couple instances in which Cary and I performed acts I wasn't forthcoming about myself. Spencer knows of all the times when Cary and I have met, but I didn't feel I could reveal that a) Cary and I did anal and b) I swallowed [well at least 75% of it] once with Cary; things that I hadn't done with Spencer in a long time, and I thought it would hurt his feelings that I did these things with someone else.
So those instances are off my chest, and now, too, I've revealed this blog to Spencer. He can read it all he wants, but if he gets angry at my honesty and wants to vent, he can get his own blog.
We'll have to think of a suitable acronym for him: PAYMANDS? Polyamorous Alcoholic Yankee Married to an Anxious Neurotic in the Deep South?
Today's the second day into the new year, and I'm feeling miles better; but now Spencer is down for the count with a cold. It's my turn to care for him as he cared for me yesterday. He was kinder to me in my hungover state than I would have been to him, I admit.
We're doing some much-needed cleaning around our house, including going through years of papers belonging to us and to his recently deceased mom. Shredding and plowing through all this stuff is cathartic.
Something else that was cathartic for Spencer was, on New Year's Eve, while blazing drunk, he kept muttering "I've done you wrong, I've done you wrong." Of course one can't say that and not expect the other person to keep prying as to "what is it you've done??" Being that I was also three sheets to the wind, I figured I wasn't going to care much whatever it was.
It turns out that, before we were actually married but after we'd become a couple, Spencer had some sexual exploits about which I was not informed. He says he cheated but as we weren't married yet, I can't use as strong a word. And since I'd out-and-out cheated in my first marriage, I don't have much of a leg to stand on anyway. I'm just truly glad that he feels better for having told me. And really the timing couldn't have been better seeing as how I was happily toasted at the time of the revelation.
I'm oddly not mad at all. We've been married a few years now and anything before seems so long ago anyway. I did take the opportunity while the air was being cleared to tell Spencer about a couple instances in which Cary and I performed acts I wasn't forthcoming about myself. Spencer knows of all the times when Cary and I have met, but I didn't feel I could reveal that a) Cary and I did anal and b) I swallowed [well at least 75% of it] once with Cary; things that I hadn't done with Spencer in a long time, and I thought it would hurt his feelings that I did these things with someone else.
So those instances are off my chest, and now, too, I've revealed this blog to Spencer. He can read it all he wants, but if he gets angry at my honesty and wants to vent, he can get his own blog.
We'll have to think of a suitable acronym for him: PAYMANDS? Polyamorous Alcoholic Yankee Married to an Anxious Neurotic in the Deep South?
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Stump
I do rather get tired of feeling the stump of my neck for my head, after it's been bitten off...especially when I've done exactly what I said I'd do for someone, and they just hadn't noticed yet...
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Sundays
One more day before going back to work. Spencer had a binge last night with his knucklehead friend Kip. I call him a knucklehead because his personality grates and he's a jerk for the most part, but I should thank him for taking Spencer in at his place for the evening and keeping him out of my hair while they drink. [Man, I sound like a bitch.] And since he's within walking distance I don't have to worry about Spencer driving.
I admit I had my own mini-binge while he was gone [4 or 5 beers]; and yes, I do ask myself the question, why do I deal with his alcoholism with alcohol? Legitimate question. Lame but honest answer: I want to escape for a short time. Sort of the "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" syndrome.
Sunday afternoons and evenings are usually quite pleasant around our place. I must lower myself and thank the fundys for not allowing alcohol sales on Sunday; it at least gives me a built-in respite. Actually I don't give a crap if it's Sunday or Tuesday, I just like knowing there's one day we're 99% in the clear.
Must dash, still work to do around the house; and maybe a chance to chat with Cary ;O)
--Pym
I admit I had my own mini-binge while he was gone [4 or 5 beers]; and yes, I do ask myself the question, why do I deal with his alcoholism with alcohol? Legitimate question. Lame but honest answer: I want to escape for a short time. Sort of the "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" syndrome.
Sunday afternoons and evenings are usually quite pleasant around our place. I must lower myself and thank the fundys for not allowing alcohol sales on Sunday; it at least gives me a built-in respite. Actually I don't give a crap if it's Sunday or Tuesday, I just like knowing there's one day we're 99% in the clear.
Must dash, still work to do around the house; and maybe a chance to chat with Cary ;O)
--Pym
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Ahhh
A few hours peace...it's the day after Christmas...Spencer woke up cranky, so even though I love him dearly I was relieved when he went to spend some time with a buddy. It's like the ol' saying: sometimes I wake up cranky, other times I let him sleep...
After my short post yesterday, Spencer did notice that he'd hurt my feelings when he asked if he could drink -- the crying probably gave it away -- and apologized. The rest of the evening went pretty smoothly as we watched Britcoms and relaxed on the couch.
I'm not sure why I cry so easily...must be the stress. It is stressful living with Spencer, dealing with his dysfunctional family, but I must be the first to admit it's most likely a tad stressful for him to live with me. Here's where I mention my mental health issues:
There have been some bouts in my past of depression, but I'd say my main issues are generalized anxiety and obsessive-compulsive disorder. This does cause Spencer chagrin when I'm constantly checking doors, etc. and continually worrying about something or other. Usually about death. Mine, his, loved ones'.
I'm a master at worrying; think of it as mental origami: any smallish anxious thought can be kneaded, manipulated, folded, spindled, mutilated, into a masterpiece of psychological-textbook proportion. Why I don't go so far as to sprinkle my paxil and xanax on my cornflakes I don't know.
Part of the trade off of me dealing with Spencer's issues is him dealing with mine. At least so far each of our major episodes have happened opposite one another so the other was there and strong enough to support. Must be cosmic. Or is that karmic?
--Pym
After my short post yesterday, Spencer did notice that he'd hurt my feelings when he asked if he could drink -- the crying probably gave it away -- and apologized. The rest of the evening went pretty smoothly as we watched Britcoms and relaxed on the couch.
I'm not sure why I cry so easily...must be the stress. It is stressful living with Spencer, dealing with his dysfunctional family, but I must be the first to admit it's most likely a tad stressful for him to live with me. Here's where I mention my mental health issues:
There have been some bouts in my past of depression, but I'd say my main issues are generalized anxiety and obsessive-compulsive disorder. This does cause Spencer chagrin when I'm constantly checking doors, etc. and continually worrying about something or other. Usually about death. Mine, his, loved ones'.
I'm a master at worrying; think of it as mental origami: any smallish anxious thought can be kneaded, manipulated, folded, spindled, mutilated, into a masterpiece of psychological-textbook proportion. Why I don't go so far as to sprinkle my paxil and xanax on my cornflakes I don't know.
Part of the trade off of me dealing with Spencer's issues is him dealing with mine. At least so far each of our major episodes have happened opposite one another so the other was there and strong enough to support. Must be cosmic. Or is that karmic?
--Pym
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