Paul and I will celebrate our original anniversary on November 5th of this year. We met 11 years ago and were married 8 years ago as of the 17th of this month.
He's got me.
Mar. 19th, 2006 at 4:59 AM
Yes, this is a mush-filled entry again...but I figure this is my journal and, dammit, if I'm happy about something in my life when there's so much to be stressed over the rest of the time, then I'm going to give the positive stuff equal time.
My partner
paulzuzu bowls me over more and more as time goes on. Often there are moments so intense between us that I think I'm going to forget to breathe. Like tonight when, after watching movies, I let loose with some pent-up fears and emotion, and tears began to fall. He knows just what to say and when to say it. He holds me close, showers me with kisses and helps dry my tears with his reassurances.
He loves me. Me...just how I am. No pretenses, no contingencies. He is present and available in my life, and he is supportive beyond words. Last week I didn't see him until Friday because I was under pressure to finish up some tasks and I needed solitude and concentration (this happens on occasion when I'm in the midst of a heavy-duty writing project.) Whereas other men (and I've dated them and been through it) would gripe and moan or put a guilt trip on me that I didn't love them or I was choosing writing over them, Paul understood completely and quietly supported me through the whole week with phone calls and e-mails every now and then. By Friday we were mad to be in each other's arms again and it was difficult to keep our hands and lips off of one another -- not merely from sheer lust (although lust did make its presence known!), but from the need to wash away the ache of longing for one's companion and mate when one has had to endure an unwelcome, but necessary, absence. Next week, I shall be gone to visit my mom and in-laws in Oklahoma and, once again, we will be separated for nearly a week. *heavy sigh* Being so far away from him fills me with fear and loathing.
Night before last we once again talked about how easy and preferable it would be to elope and get married -- just the two of us -- and then have an official handfasting ceremony later with family and friends. Several life considerations prevent us from marrying right now, but as soon as those situations are taken care of, the next day I'm ready to hop in the car, drive to an undisclosed destination and tie the knot with him.
Tonight he took my face in his hands, gazed intently into my eyes (which melted me to the core) and said words to me that no man has EVER said to me like that before. Caressing my face in his hands and staring at me with deep intensity, he made sure I heard every single word he said. No man's ever been that direct or intense like that and said THOSE words (which I shall keep private for now). Before I left after 4 a.m., we kissed and he once again held my face in his hands and gazed deeply into my eyes, his blond hair falling down around his face and shoulders, causing my insides to shiver. He called me his "beautiful bride," and I nearly cried. I'm not that yet, but I will be. Legally, I'm not; emotionally, I already feel that way.
He's got me; I mean, really got me. I didn't plan to fall for him like this. When did it happen and why didn't I fully realize it? This whole thing fills me with joy and fear at the same time. My heart is vulnerable and my soul is open and exposed. He reassures me...tells me he's not going anywhere. "Please don't," I whisper. "I cannot bear to hurt anymore...I've been hurt enough," I've told him in so many words and through so many tears. In the past, I've put so much into relationships that never came to full fruition or that turned abusive and cruel. There are deep scars that have scabbed over and I cannot bear to have them ripped open again. You know what I mean, though -- most, if not all of us, have these deep scars from long-term or intense relationships. He reassures me he won't hurt me. I believe him more than anything I've believed in a long time. I trust him -- implicitly. He is accepting, patient, understanding and gentle.
He loves me:
* Even though I'm not (and never have been) a tiny blonde Barbie-doll type
* Even when I'm being silly and unreasonable
* On bad hair days (which there are a lot of!) and without make-up...he swears he prefers me without make-up, which I find VERY hard to believe
* When I'm ranting and bouncing off the walls...he's the one who calms me down and helps me see things more objectively
* On days when I feel like I'm no more than a pile of feces and I can't do anything right (these days occur often)
* When I'm in my grouchy, prickly, smart-mouthy, sarcastic moods. That, my friends, takes sheer tolerance
The rest of the list could be endless...with all the crap that has come and gone lately in my life -- from friend and family illnesses to deadlines to endless to-do tasks to everyday irritations and expectations -- all I know is that I have two beautiful, wonderful children whom I adore and I also have a man who loves me wholly and without reservation or restraint. He is not afraid to give himself completely...to open up and take that chance on love. Likewise, I am truly, madly, deeply in love with him on a level that surprises even me. We speak of traveling together, of working on creative projects together, of growing old together.
Upon arriving home, I called him to let him know I made it home safely. One day there will be no need for a phone call. One day I'll already be home -- with him. One day we will hold hands, bind ourselves together with words and cords, and pledge to spend the rest of our lives together, he as my husband and I as his wife. I cannot wait for that day. In fact, I wish that day was tomorrow. But alas, that tomorrow will come soon enough. For now, I am already bound to him, heart and soul, as he is to me.
With so much hate, strife and discord in the world, today I will use my journal to celebrate love. A love that is real and concrete...one that doesn't taunt me like promised whispers on the wind, but one I can reach out and touch with my bare hands.
Tis a beautiful and rare thing indeed. In the midst of stress and sadness, this brilliant spark lives. I want to remember this time -- put a permanent record of it in my journal so years later I can look back on this entry and smile as I squeeze my husband's hand and bask in the memory of how our love was born.
Mar. 19th, 2006 at 4:59 AM
Yes, this is a mush-filled entry again...but I figure this is my journal and, dammit, if I'm happy about something in my life when there's so much to be stressed over the rest of the time, then I'm going to give the positive stuff equal time.
My partner
paulzuzu bowls me over more and more as time goes on. Often there are moments so intense between us that I think I'm going to forget to breathe. Like tonight when, after watching movies, I let loose with some pent-up fears and emotion, and tears began to fall. He knows just what to say and when to say it. He holds me close, showers me with kisses and helps dry my tears with his reassurances.He loves me. Me...just how I am. No pretenses, no contingencies. He is present and available in my life, and he is supportive beyond words. Last week I didn't see him until Friday because I was under pressure to finish up some tasks and I needed solitude and concentration (this happens on occasion when I'm in the midst of a heavy-duty writing project.) Whereas other men (and I've dated them and been through it) would gripe and moan or put a guilt trip on me that I didn't love them or I was choosing writing over them, Paul understood completely and quietly supported me through the whole week with phone calls and e-mails every now and then. By Friday we were mad to be in each other's arms again and it was difficult to keep our hands and lips off of one another -- not merely from sheer lust (although lust did make its presence known!), but from the need to wash away the ache of longing for one's companion and mate when one has had to endure an unwelcome, but necessary, absence. Next week, I shall be gone to visit my mom and in-laws in Oklahoma and, once again, we will be separated for nearly a week. *heavy sigh* Being so far away from him fills me with fear and loathing.
Night before last we once again talked about how easy and preferable it would be to elope and get married -- just the two of us -- and then have an official handfasting ceremony later with family and friends. Several life considerations prevent us from marrying right now, but as soon as those situations are taken care of, the next day I'm ready to hop in the car, drive to an undisclosed destination and tie the knot with him.
Tonight he took my face in his hands, gazed intently into my eyes (which melted me to the core) and said words to me that no man has EVER said to me like that before. Caressing my face in his hands and staring at me with deep intensity, he made sure I heard every single word he said. No man's ever been that direct or intense like that and said THOSE words (which I shall keep private for now). Before I left after 4 a.m., we kissed and he once again held my face in his hands and gazed deeply into my eyes, his blond hair falling down around his face and shoulders, causing my insides to shiver. He called me his "beautiful bride," and I nearly cried. I'm not that yet, but I will be. Legally, I'm not; emotionally, I already feel that way.
He's got me; I mean, really got me. I didn't plan to fall for him like this. When did it happen and why didn't I fully realize it? This whole thing fills me with joy and fear at the same time. My heart is vulnerable and my soul is open and exposed. He reassures me...tells me he's not going anywhere. "Please don't," I whisper. "I cannot bear to hurt anymore...I've been hurt enough," I've told him in so many words and through so many tears. In the past, I've put so much into relationships that never came to full fruition or that turned abusive and cruel. There are deep scars that have scabbed over and I cannot bear to have them ripped open again. You know what I mean, though -- most, if not all of us, have these deep scars from long-term or intense relationships. He reassures me he won't hurt me. I believe him more than anything I've believed in a long time. I trust him -- implicitly. He is accepting, patient, understanding and gentle.
He loves me:
* Even though I'm not (and never have been) a tiny blonde Barbie-doll type
* Even when I'm being silly and unreasonable
* On bad hair days (which there are a lot of!) and without make-up...he swears he prefers me without make-up, which I find VERY hard to believe
* When I'm ranting and bouncing off the walls...he's the one who calms me down and helps me see things more objectively
* On days when I feel like I'm no more than a pile of feces and I can't do anything right (these days occur often)
* When I'm in my grouchy, prickly, smart-mouthy, sarcastic moods. That, my friends, takes sheer tolerance
The rest of the list could be endless...with all the crap that has come and gone lately in my life -- from friend and family illnesses to deadlines to endless to-do tasks to everyday irritations and expectations -- all I know is that I have two beautiful, wonderful children whom I adore and I also have a man who loves me wholly and without reservation or restraint. He is not afraid to give himself completely...to open up and take that chance on love. Likewise, I am truly, madly, deeply in love with him on a level that surprises even me. We speak of traveling together, of working on creative projects together, of growing old together.
Upon arriving home, I called him to let him know I made it home safely. One day there will be no need for a phone call. One day I'll already be home -- with him. One day we will hold hands, bind ourselves together with words and cords, and pledge to spend the rest of our lives together, he as my husband and I as his wife. I cannot wait for that day. In fact, I wish that day was tomorrow. But alas, that tomorrow will come soon enough. For now, I am already bound to him, heart and soul, as he is to me.
With so much hate, strife and discord in the world, today I will use my journal to celebrate love. A love that is real and concrete...one that doesn't taunt me like promised whispers on the wind, but one I can reach out and touch with my bare hands.
Tis a beautiful and rare thing indeed. In the midst of stress and sadness, this brilliant spark lives. I want to remember this time -- put a permanent record of it in my journal so years later I can look back on this entry and smile as I squeeze my husband's hand and bask in the memory of how our love was born.
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