Tag Archives: love

Sing With Rapture & Dance Like A Dervish

‘Love is passion, obsession, someone you can’t live without. If you don’t start with that, what are you going to end up with? Fall head over heels. I say find someone you can love like crazy & who’ll love you the same way back. & how do you find him? Forget your head & listen to your heart… Run the risk, if you get hurt, you’ll come back. Because, the truth is there is no sense living your life without this. To make the journey & not fall deeply in love – well, you haven’t lived a life at all. You have to try. Because if you haven’t tried, you haven’t lived.” ~~ Anthony Hopkins, Meet Joe Black

Spring has sprung & we have had some good news at last – just one more operation to get out of the way in October & all should be well.

Running risks, getting hurt, trying, clawing, healing, screaming – all these things are living – but loving – that is still new to me every day & every day I wake up confused… he is still here… he must be mad, purely & utterly mad.
 Ashes & Corsmor

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“Good King of Cats, only one of your nine lives”

What I hear is “I don’t trust myself”.

Let me put this down here so that you can hear me. So it can never be deleted. Established 2013.

What I want from you is friendship. I want the kind of friendship that develops over years. Where trust is given but also earned. Where we know so much about each other that it is comfortable & safe. Where we can spend hours together doing activities & our partners can trust us. I want to be able to talk about anything & everything. I want to be able to talk about politics without one of us getting angry & I want to be able to talk about sex without it becoming about you & me. It is not about you & me. It is about the bond.

It does not matter to me that I am attracted to you. I am attracted to lots of people. I would argue that no one is friends with anyone they are not, on some level, attracted to. It is simple biology. Desire is natural. What happens in our heads is entirely ours & no one can judge that. Dreams are not actions.

You said you find this situation unusual. That I would be honest with Corsmor about how I feel. The proposition that you & I can be close without having to have a sexual relationship, you find new & unusual. Well perhaps it is by today’s standards. Today’s standards of unachievable romantic-movie versions of love, friendship & marriage. To me marriage is about constantly learning from each other because you can be completely honest without fear of recrimination or embarrassment. It’s about accepting the other person & vowing to help them become someone more than they are. I see friendship the exact same way. Real friendship. It’s like a marriage & both are hard work. Sure, most of the time they flow along nicely in a routine but you have to keep a constant vigil on that. It stops being easy if no one cares & no one puts in effort.

So here I am, married, which I always wanted to be but never thought I would be. Me. Married. & Corsmor – married? Do you know how many times I have had to field the question,
“How did you get him to marry you?”
It is somewhat insulting & shows how little they know him. I didn’t ‘get him’ to do anything. We fell in love. We spent many years developing a connection & friendship before we ever became a couple & before ever having sex but we had been committed to each other from day one. We both knew we would spend forever together & we’d go to the ends of the earth to make that happen. And we did. That’s the difference.

You & I both have partners who love us & who we love back. They are significantly awesome people. They are the number one’s. They are what makes both of us special. She comes first & so does he. I respect her & I respect what you have together.

I am committed to my friendship with you in the same way I am committed to my marriage. I am committed to learning about you. To being there when you need me & annoying you when you don’t. It’s not logical in my head. It’s just a bond that we seem to have. A bond that I would like to see become something more than friendship, something like best friends, or brother & sisters. But in reality, it probably has a league of its own.

If this is something that you want – if it’s a desire you share or you see this potential in me, then please, keep talking. If not, just say goodbye & let this end. Go back to how you were before we talked. & be happy. Because I can’t do this if you are scared. I can’t do this if you’re unhappy. & I won’t do this if every day we’re faced with fear. Trust yourself. Trust me. If we don’t have that, then there’s nothing here.

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Tybalt

D-Mode

Well it is Depeche Mode day in London today – the concert of concerts and although I cannot be there is hasn’t stopped me listening to all of their albums all day. To be truthful I did not expect some of the songs to be so hard to listen to. Some of them, like ‘One Caress’, ‘In Your Room’ and ‘I Am You’ take me back to a time so close to my heart, into an area of my past I try not to stray. My heart physically aches when I hear these songs.

Almost all of them link me to a very special man with whom I shared many long nights. One of the darkest & most amazing periods of my life. Depeche Mode was the soundtrack at that time, there was nothing & no one else but him & the Mode. Even when things seemed a total mess, he brought me to a point where nothing in the real world mattered. He became my reality. He took me out of the blackness of depression & brought me into his light. For this, I am eternally grateful.

He heads off to the concert today – his excitement is palpable & I desperately wish I could have been there. The sadness that engulfs me when I think of him, listening to Mode in the heart of London, without me is almost unbearable but inescapable.

Even though we have both moved on to other people & different lives we still keep in contact. I cannot imagine how it would feel for him to be gone… I cannot imagine his (still beautiful) face being gone.

Missing someone is one of the hardest things to feel. Especially when there’s no real way to rectify it. You just have to miss them. You have to wish for them. And then, you have to let go.

I Am You ~~ Depeche Mode

You have bound my heart with subtle chains
So much pleasure that it feels like pain
So entwined now that we can’t shake free
I am you and you are me
 
No escaping from the mess we’re in
So much pleasure that it must be sin
I must live with this reality
I am yours eternally
 
There’s no turning back
We’re in this trap
No denying the facts
No, no, no
No excuses to give
I’m the one you’re with
We’ve no alternative
No, no, no
 
Dark obsession in the name of love
This addiction that we’re both part of
Leads us deeper into mystery
Keeps us craving endlessly
 
Strange compulsions that I can’t control
Pure possession of my heart and soul
I must live with this reality
 
I am you and you are me
I am you and you are me
I am you and you are me
I am you and you are me
 
There’s no turning back
We’re in this trap
No denying the facts
No, no, no
No excuses to give
I’m the one you’re with
We’ve no alternative
No, no, noDepeche Mode 2013

What I Carry Inside

I miss you but I am not sure you were ever really here? I would have really liked to know you all the same. You were never here, & now never really gone.

It is 3 days since they told us that our baby had no heartbeat. That little flicker of life we had been mesmerised by only 2 short weeks before was gone. Run away, put out, disappeared…

I already knew but I had hoped on hope & words from Corsmor that everything was okay; that I was just following worry instead of happiness. He was wrong about that but not wrong to hope.

My instant reaction to the news was anger & my head filled with the throb of “I told you so”. I felt strangely vindicated that all these weeks of growing this baby I had known in the back of my mind that it was slipping away & though I had said it many times no one had believed be. Now I felt angry that no one had listened, when in fact nothing could have been done but to wait & to see.

Vindication quickly subsided when looking into the eyes of a truly disappointed & cruelly devastated Husband. One who hoped so hard & held me so many nights while I cried as I bled, as I cramped & as we hoped. His eyes filled with tears looking into my eyes. Not knowing what to say or to do, being only able to stare at me & clumsily rub my leg.

I got up from the table & entered the change room. I wiped the ultrasound material & spots of blood from my between my legs with a scratchy & stiff napkin. Put my still-warm clothing back on, the pants I had bought prematurely & with excitement for my ‘growing belly’ suddenly seemed so big that they could fit me & this entire empty nightmare into them easily. The numb began to wash over my whole body. I gathered myself in full knowledge that the technician & doctor had just gone to arrange to ‘fix this up’ to make sure we ‘get this out of you’. Like it was a dangerous, diseased growth that must be removed & I began to feel that’s exactly what it was.

Walking out of the change room I asked Corsmor if he was okay. He shook his head & said “I’d like to hug my wife’’ to which I requested he did not as I knew that I had a lot more of this to go through today & could not start the crying now. He understood or appeared to.

The technician came back in, her face ashen & so young, no more than 22, not knowing what to do or say except “you have an appointment at 10:30. You don’t have to see our receptionist or pay just leave & go to the hospital at 10:30am”. As I walked past her I said “thank you” & then instantly wondered what I was thanking her for.

So we went back to our house that to me seemed quieter & bigger than it ever had before. He grabbed me in the hall way & the tears escaped me. The heaving, heavy, snotty crying that explodes from you when you cannot hold it in any more – the opening of a terrifying door I was about to walk through. I closed it. I pulled myself away from him. I sat down & I stared. I had nothing to say. To be honest, this is the conversation that I do not remember. I do not remember what we said to each other in the dim, quiet lounge room while the rest of the world ran about on their Tuesday morning beginning to the business day.

I couldn’t stop moving so I called my sister. She came straight down – living only 4 houses up was a blessing this time.

She came in & knew. I shook my head & said “no heartbeat”. Her eyes, like my Husbands only half an hour before filled with tears. But Lara – she is tough & did not let me see too much. Knowing she is the expert on all things baby (having had 2 beautiful babies many years ago) I asked her “what are they going to do to me”. So she gave me some of the run down on what happens now. Why they do it & what all these strange words like “Curette”’, D&C etc. stand for. She really does know it all. The reality sank in a little that my baby was now becoming a ‘product’ that had to be removed. It was not alive anymore. I was not a mum anymore.

Since I could drink it now as I’d fasted for the ultrasound I made myself a double coffee. Making it was warm, it was familiar, it was normal. It was a comfort.

We sat in our lounge room & calm moved over me. As only Lara can she explained why this happens, why she was sorry for us but we talked about the positives too, we joked, we giggled, I winced at the pain from the cramping I was still experiencing.

Only days before I’d finally stopped bleeding & I had felt really well – healthy. I left the house for the first time in a week. My feet were so clumsy in the car that they slipped on the pedals until I was used to driving again by the end of my street. I went to the grocery store just to wander, to get out. I couldn’t believe how much energy I had. Half way down the magazine aisle I almost fainted. It had suddenly occurred to me that I had stopped bleeding & I felt good because the baby was gone. This was terrifying. The thought that I had suddenly felt well & was smiling because my baby had died was enough to make me sick.

It was then that I knew.

4 days later, here we were sitting in my lounge room talking about how they would remove the ‘missed miscarriage’. How they would take away the dead baby. That I would have to go to the hospital & sit in the maternity clinic with the other fortunate Mums & Dads knowing my baby was dead but still inside me. The emptiness was overwhelming. The numbness was a comfort.

We waited in the full car park as a lady reversed her car. Corsmor said “that was lucky wasn’t it”. I could not help but berate him. “Lucky? Yes I feel so lucky”. He apologised. I felt awful. We walked in,

“I’m Violet Ashes, & I have an appointment” I said

“Oh you’re Ashes, okay, yes, the doctor is in theatre but he will see you as soon as he gets out please take a seat” she motioned at the waiting room chairs

“Thank you” again I wondered why I kept saying this?

We sat… & we sat. The tears came & fell as I watched the beautiful mothers & their round healthy bellies. They all had fuzzy black & white photos of babies to be born & I thought of the photos I had. The baby with no heart, the yolk sack, the foetal pole, our everything; our nothing. I watched their attentive husbands & their smiles. I felt so happy for them all, not begrudging at all. How wonderful it must be, I thought. Do they know how lucky they are?

It was half an hour before the doctor came in. Still in full scrubs & dragging another female doctor with him. He was hobbled. His back looked sore. He made a joke about the long walk to the consult room. I didn’t laugh. We sat in Birthing Room 4. He explained slowly what had happened, the hows & the whys. I heard words like ‘chromosome’, ‘natural’, & ‘25% of women’. I wasn’t really listening. He explained my options. Like any option except ‘get this out of me’ would have been acceptable. For the first time I started to listen. I was shocked. The option of ‘you can wait & hope your body expels the foetus’ & ‘we can give you medication that does that & you will bleed it out’. Was he serious? Does he expect me to unceremoniously & with absolutely no dignity or medical assistance bleed my baby out into the toilet over ‘the next few days’? I was disgusted that this was even an option. As if I had not been through enough. I opted for number 3. Put me under, take it out, & send me home – an abortion. The idiot in my head felt relieved; at least I would not have to deal with right to lifers.

He explained he would have to get me on the end of the surgical register as I had explained that it being Tuesday, waiting until Friday was not an option.

“They will not be happy when I tell them they have to stay late” He said.

Again, shocked, I quipped,

“Well I will swap places with them if they like. I would love to be at work complaining about working late instead of here.”

He agreed.

The next few hours were the worst in my life.

My husband & I were shuffled off into another waiting room. I could not hear what the Doctor said to the nurses except,

“You can take of that can’t you? …”

“Okay, take a seat” the nurse said to us.

We sat & waited, filled out some paperwork. It was quiet. We were quiet.

We sat in uncomfortable chairs, uncomfortable with each other, not knowing what to say. My mind drifted in & out of consciousness. Another nurse came out to ask if I’d been given any instructions & I opened my fist to show her two pills I’d been given by the Doctor.

“Did he tell you when to take them?” she asked, to which I replied,

“No, he said you would ‘take care of that’.” So she left us to call him — more waiting.

After 10 or so minutes she came back & said she would take us through to the next waiting room & a nurse would help me. Corsmor made himself comfortable & I looked for & used the bathroom. A typical hospital bathroom it had the smell of having been used extensively. That acrid scent of dry urine filled my nostrils & the bright fluorescent lights made me look pale.

Only six months prior to this I had been in hospital to remove a benign tumour from my left ovary. It was a terrifying & extensive experience. One I was not sure could ever be topped for sheer terror factor, until now. When I’d been led into surgery that day by a very grumpy nurse she had lost her mind over the fact that I had not taken off my make up (apparently I was supposed to know to take it off despite the fact I’d never been in hospital before). So, knowing this, I took my make up off this time. Most of it was blurred & sketchy now from all the crying – but I removed what I could with paper towel, hand soap & water. The taste of Glycerine filled my mouth – I turned to vomit but having eaten nothing that day I wretched.

Exiting the bathroom I was confronted by another nurse; but I smiled at this for the first time in days. It was a woman I’d known most of my life. Her daughter & I had grown up together in a round-about sort of way. Her face was kind & soft, I was pleased to finally see someone I knew & automatically trusted.

In preparation for my coming abortion I had to put 2 tablets in my vagina in order to widen my cervix. A most disconcerting & inaccurate thing to be asked to do – no real instructions given to me, just insert & wait so that half the job is done by the time the doctor comes to remove the ‘material’ from my womb. Yes, because that’s what really matters here, I thought to myself. Ensuring the surgeon can get home to his family on time & doesn’t have to mess around with me for too long. I’m all about the help. “Thank you…” rang in my ears.

Back in the bathroom again she’d instructed me on how to put on the oversized gown, hat, shoes & dressing gown made of paper. It was so big on me I thought I might disappear in it. Disposable clothing. Just like this pregnancy now felt to me, disposable.

Corsmor grinned a little at me as I came back to him & settled in one of the maroon, 70’s shaped & well-worn recovery chairs. Not long after this the cramping started again. Heavy cramping & I could feel the blood seeping from between my legs into the industrial sized pad the nurse had given me. I began to cry again. Tears, inescapable ran freely down my cheeks. Corsmor looked panicked & I told him he felt so far away. He picked up an office chair & moved as close to me as he could. His strong, twice-the-size-of-mine hands wrapped around mine & he stared at me unable to speak.

I began to tell him how I had known, how I had understood all along that I was losing the baby but that I had wanted to hope so much it was not true. He nodded along to what I had to say like it was an old favourite tune. Insecurities began to swallow my brain & I explained that I expected he might leave me now, not being able to follow through with the birth of our first child. He looked confused, hurt, astonished.

Corsmor is 12 years my senior & with me at age 32 I had always felt this was a race against time. Despite this we had done things the traditional way; the courtship, the marriage & then the baby. This is how we had planned & how we had wanted it. In the back of my mind a crazy lady (& I am sure many of our friends) whispered that he had married me to have his kids because of the age gap this could be the only explanation. Of course! This was obvious! How that lady misunderstood.

Corsmor squeezed my hand so tightly that my nails dug into my palm. He told me how wrong I was. How I was what mattered to him. Not a baby. That if there was a choice between me & the ‘pip’ it was always me. This was new information to me. It was wondrous & it was heart breaking at the same time. Heartbreaking that I had never realised how truly amazing my Husband was & how much he loved me. I was as much a part of him as one of his limbs & I felt so humble.

Tears plummeted down my face, as much from the cramping as from the emotional boxing match I was in. It was truly exhausting. Nurses came & went with more pieces of paper & more signing. More intimate questions about my pregnancy, my health. I cried all the way through the Anaesthetist telling me this was normal, & what the risks were.

The sound of risk sounded thrilling. The thought occurred to me I might not wake up. I embraced this thought. I went numb. I stopped crying & I was all business. Something inside me snapped, or woke up. I am not sure which.

Soon they came to walk me to surgery. A nurse took my arm. I kissed my Husband good bye. My helpless, lonely, hungry & tired Husband had to let me go. I watched him walk out, knowing he had to drive home & sit in silence until they called him to say it was done. & there was that face again. That terrified, only-just-holding-it-together face that he had shown me six month earlier when they had wheeled me away to surgery. I could not think about it & I turned away.

A nurse told me to lie down on the table. My paper gown ripped & rustled as I unceremoniously climbed up. They bickered with each other over their duties & how late they were now that I was on the register. They pricked me with needles, they put sticky tape all over my arms. I lied back staring. I felt like a piece of meat on a chopping block. No one smiled, no one looked me in the eye. I begged the universe not to let me wake up. Let me die.

“Count back from 100” the nurse to my left whispered in my ear. My lips did not move. My mouth was dry & I could not speak. As a cloud of cotton wool filled my memory the nurse on my right removed my underwear.

I woke in recovery with a nurse holding my hand & stroking the fringe of hair on my forehead. “There she is” she whispered. “How do you feel?” she asked

“Sad” was all I could manage before a barrage of tears broke through. I was confused & I was in pain. Nothing felt as if it was real & yet too real at the same time. I was cold & my body shivered. I cried. The nurse sat by me for half an hour. She talked me round to a soft sob.

“The Doctors will tell you to wait to try again but they don’t know what women know. Wait until your next period then try again, you will be very fertile & I’ll see you in here before Xmas giving birth to a healthy baby.” She explained

“I don’t think so. I can’t see me wanting to ever risk this again” I said.

“Is your hubby waiting outside, when did you get married? The small talk had started & I told her about Corsmor. How much I loved him & asked when I could see him. I had never wanted to see anyone so much before. The nurse wiped my tears & brushed my hair with her fingers.

“Let’s brush your hair for your husband & wipe those tears, okay” she said.

The woman in the bed next to me explained to the nurse that she had opted for an abortion because she was single & too old to have a baby. The nurse brushing my hair, her breasts knocking against my arm, breathed in sharply & looked at me with terror in her eyes. There was no escaping the conversation next to me.

“It’s okay, that’s her choice & her right” I said. The nurse looked relieved. Here I was, just had the baby I had wanted more than anything removed & I was making the nurse feel better. No one can ever say that I am not charitable again.

They wheeled me out into the recovery lounge & I settled back into the 70’s recliner.

I do not remember a whole lot from this time. I felt sick & dizzy. Corsmor looking worried & the nurse would not let me go until I drank something. I got myself undressed & dressed in my own clothes in the overused bathroom again & wore another industrial sized pad that no oversized pants was ever going to hide.

Corsmor walked me to the car which he had parked too far away & expressed his guilt. The walk in the open warm air was nice, I never told him that.

The last 3 days have been a blur. Mum, Lara & Bella have visited, flowers from my boss & friends have arrived. The house looks like a funeral parlour. Corsmor has not yet gone back to work & does not let me out of his sight. His ‘unbirthday’ passed on the 28th February & he was miserable. My mum visited with cake but the rest of the world either forgot or stayed away which has only added to my guilt. I feel as if I have ruined his life.

I called my Dad & told him about it all today. He was upset. I couldn’t handle the disappointment in his voice & I hung up.

The anger is just about to come through me in the next week or so – I can feel it welling up inside. This whole process has been nothing short of the worst 8 weeks of my life. What began as something magical & joyful has become clinical & heart-breaking. The words ‘our baby died inside me’, torture me. The heart we saw beat had simply stopped. Even though everyone tells me that there was nothing I could have done, that I did everything right, the guilt the bare fact that I lost our baby that will never leave me. I will never be the same, I will never be that innocent again.

It is unlike me to think of a positive at a time like this. However, the one thing that I have learned in these 8 weeks that I will carry with me forever, the only positive, is exactly how much my Husband loves me. How much he supports me. That what happens to me happens to him too. He feels what I feel & he understands. I understand for the first time that his love is way beyond anything I ever imagined. I may have lost our baby but I will carry that with me, always.

Disappearing

 

Beating a Drum

I have not stopped bleeding since we got back from holiday but today we had an ultrasound & saw Pip for the first time. Floating there, 4mm long, approximately 6 weeks old. We held our breath & there, in the middle of the picture as we watched – it moved. A heartbeat.
 
There are no words to describe this moment. Especially since I had been so positive that the technician would find nothing at all, that my fears were real & I was losing our baby. But there it was, plain to see, a tiny little beat – new & slow, but there nonetheless. The technician said she thought that it may have even just started. Corsmor, holding my hand, could not take his eyes off the screen, & then that shine in his eyes – the relief. I will see those eyes every night when I go to sleep for a long time.
 
Although this is a relief – I am aware that this does not necessarily indicate all is well. But today, it is enough to stand in the middle of our kitchen, hold each other & look at our photo of Pip on the fridge & hope that pretty soon, the door of the fridge will be filled with pictures of love that has its own beat.

Pip

Missing Denial

I have tried to suppress my submissiveness. Why express something that seems no longer valued or required? After over a year of this I am asking why I am denying this part of me. I do not deny all of my submissive tendencies but they’re much more everyday & mundane now. I care for my husband & for our marriage but there’s a piece missing. Something that had become unique, special, secret has lapsed. I miss the mix of pain & pleasure; not being able to speak or move without being asked. I miss watching porn that he chose, I miss the bruises. I miss the wince of pain when I sit down. I miss jelly legs & his gentleness as I exit subspace. I miss the bonding, the trust & the evolution of something entirely between us & no one else. How long does it take before missing becomes needing?

BDSM Eye

Surprise

I attended Tap’s engagement party on Saturday… Surprise….Wedding!!!! Happy husband & bride all smiles 🙂

I never would have thought that my oldest friend & I would get married in the same month in such different ways. She really did look beautiful & so happy. As it should be.

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