Hey, Where’d You Go?

One thing that frustrates me just a little since discovering the world of blogging and reading the writings of everyday people is that once I get interested in a particular blog the writer disappears. They just stop posting. I wonder what happened to them. Something tragic? Or did they simply get bored with the site? You start following a person’s story, get a glimpse into their thoughts and ideas, perhaps you feel you have some things in common, and then you’re left hanging.

I don’t want to be guilty of doing the very thing that bothers me.

When I began this blog it was because I needed to step away from another one I was writing. Also, I’d discovered a new corner of blogging where I soaked up entirely too much information in a very short period of time. It was all very enlightening. I was once again having my view of life expanded and shown another side of thinking with regard to sociology, philosophy, psychological aspects of humanity and the physiological make up of the genders. None of it was classroom teaching, but educational just the same.

After gleaning much of this new information I thought I had something to add to the discussion, so I started this blog. Some of my first posts were written from a bit of anger over what I’d read, I admit this. When the anger subsided and I assessed where to go next with this site, I felt a little lost. There were a couple of things going on at this time that I had to take into consideration.

One thing I noticed was that I was spending a tremendous amount of time in this ‘online classroom’ I’d found, learning of new sites, scouring the writings and gaining more awareness. We all have the same twenty-four hours in each day and my focus was not where it should have been. I was neglecting things in my own relationship with my husband, and he was being way too patient with me. I felt I needed to keep up on a certain amount of information, learn more things and know what others were writing so that the essays I posted here had some value, were an addition to the conversational discussion of like blogs.

Another thing that came up in my assessment of this blog was that when I first started, I stated my position on things much like I would in a debate. When I was fueled by anger it was easy; once the intensity of the anger abated, it wasn’t as easy. I’m not a debater. I can hold my own for a time, presenting clear arguments and I can move people a little closer to my position, but this is not a strength for me. I’m an encourager, nurturer; not a debater. And maybe this is where it all seemed to affect me so much.

Needing to get my priorities in line I had to make some choices. I went back to the blog I’d kept before writing here. The content of it fits what is necessary in my life right now and in my relationship with Dave. I am a submissive woman by nature, I understand that now. I’d tried to bury it for many years, most of my life really, and while it didn’t destroy my marriage, it prevented it from reaching its full potential. I was kept from reaching my full potential, and in so doing limited what I was pouring into my relationship with Dave.

My other site gives me opportunity to feed my strengths of nurturing and encouraging. I get to write about my relationship with Dave from the position where I am most comfortable, being submissive. What I write seems to encourage other women who feel as I do, who are also have relationships in which they want to take a submissive role but struggle such as I do to break away from the societal ideals which are pushed on us and to which expected to conform. Some are trying to submit to men who struggle with taking the lead because of those same societal pressures and ideologies, just as Dave did. I’m not an expert, but I simply share what we went through, the ways I responded to Dave and what worked to bring us to where we are now. For us, life is very good. In fact, right now life rocks!

To keep my focus on what is priority in my life I need to manage my time and my emotions with Dave and I in mind. It meant having to choose where to write and what to share. It also meant where to read and what to read that would either add to or take away from what we want our life together to be. I learned what I needed to for now, to understand more about life and relationships. I will never stop learning, but my priority is my life and the relationship that Dave and I have. How we have grown over the past two years feels incredible. Never in my life have I ever believed that there could be such depth between two people. I want to share that with others; to encourage others to work toward that happily ever after if that is what they desire. But also to let them see where I fail at times and what I do to achieve victory over even small things in their lives; because the small things make big things happen.

So this is where I’ve been. I’m feeding my marriage, reaching into who I am and working toward my potential, including doing what comes more naturally to me; nurturing and encouraging others in their own journey through life. I write about Deferring to Dave; the struggles, the joys, the rewards of living my life the way I always wanted to live it. Some will agree, some will not, and some may agree but not agree with the way I go about it. It makes no matter, it is what I find happiness in, and what fulfills Dave and I.  Writing that blog helps me to evaluate and process life; kind of a journal. If no one reads it, that is fine; it is instrumental in the growth of my marriage and me as an individual.

Then what to do with this site; what about the pages I’ve shared here. Much of what I’ve written here I am pleased with and I feel has good information and some value. Other pieces I don’t feel so confident about, but it is still what I thought and felt at the time I wrote it. I don’t feel inclined to take them down, not now at least. Perhaps I will return to share other thoughts in the future, if time permits, if I have something I feel is of value to say in this forum. I wish to thank you for reading this far, and I will close this post leaving you with something I penned recently which I feel accurately describes where I am, and will hopefully give something for thought for you also. Thank you.

Today

I cannot do anything about the past,

I am not guaranteed anything for the future,

But I have today.

Today I accept myself for who I am.

I look ahead to my potential.

I may not be where I want to be, but today can bring me a little closer to it, or further away from it;

It is my choice today which way I will go.

 

Life, Love and Adjustments

There we stood. The both of us. Middle of the kitchen. Holding onto one another. Tears in our eyes. Rather, I was bawling.

I’d read no more than a page or two of the story. That’s all it was; a story. A book of fiction. I read it out loud to Dave. I couldn’t read anymore than a page or two to him either. It is the story of a man, an older man; burying his wife of many decades. He was begging to go with her. That he didn’t want to be left alone. Without her.

I begged Dave as we stood there. I was begging him not to ever leave me. My heart was breaking in that moment. I could feel the pain, just a small piece of it, of what it would feel like to not have Dave in my life. I would die. If not physically, then emotionally. All of who I am would be buried in that casket with Dave. And I would be a shell.

I’ve been hiding recently. I haven’t written, nor have I read online. Some days I don’t even fire up the computer. I’ve hidden in books; works of fiction. Love stories mostly. Putting myself in someone else’s head so that I don’t have to spend as much time in my own.

This is the first Christmas since my dad passed. It’s hitting me all the more that he’s gone because this is the time of year I would see him. He and my stepmom would ramble up north in their motor home visiting with family for the holidays. They’d usually get to our place just after Christmas and we’d bring in the New Year together. This year there will be no visit. It’s beginning to sink in. I miss him. I didn’t see him every day. He lived far away. It’s just the knowing that he isn’t there. That I cannot pick up the phone and call him.

I know my stepmom misses him very much. More than I do. Reading the beginning of that story I thought of her being alone. Without my dad. I don’t want to be without Dave. I think this is what hits me most.

There is much changing in our lives right now between Dave and I; add in the external elements and it is a daunting reminder of where we are in life and just how swiftly it’s moving. We are beginning to lose our parents. Our children are moving on in another direction. This will be the first Christmas when all of our children will be away. Dave and I will have our first taste of an empty nest holiday.

The dark clouds of depression haven’t descended. I count that as progress; that I’m getting stronger. It feels good. Well, almost. There is the feeling of deep sorrow. But I know that is to be expected. Sorrow comes from loss. I believe it also comes from change. Especially drastic changes. I’ve had quite a few of those over the past year or so. It is why the sorrow I feel is so deep. Some of the changes have come in how I process and feel. I’m not quite sure how to do it. There is no more rage; I haven’t felt that for almost two years. The vices I once used to soothe away pain are no longer options; so I search for alternatives. Right now that seems to be stories. Some I read. Others I have in my mind demanding to be released on paper. I will write them.

Many times sharing too much with others frightens me. The honesty of it, the transparency. Truth be told, I don’t know how else to be. I don’t give up information, but in conversation I will tend more often than not to say what comes to mind. It’s gotten me in situations on more than one occasion. I do better holding my tongue if I suspect it would cause the discomfort of someone else more so than if it would affect only me.

I realized coming here now just how long I’ve been away. Been in hiding. Hiding has seemed to be my best defense at this juncture. If I stay away from people I won’t have to say anything, I won’t have to bare my soul. I’m not very good answering when someone inquires that something is not right with me. I wear my emotions visibly so it doesn’t take a genius to read when something is wrong; I just wish I were better at brushing it off or telling them I’m ok.

I am thankful for Dave. He is by my side, doing what he can to help me. It’s what we do. We are connected. Some days I feel that I breathe only because of Dave; and then I feel guilty because I feel I am putting too much on him. I know there are times he feels a little lost as to what to do. I know that feeling; I’m a little lost myself. It’s something we’re working on together; this time in our lives. It’s an adjustment period. Establishing a new normal. As long as we move together, advancing toward the same goals, we will adjust accordingly, maintaining us.

All the years growing up in New York and living nearby we never did something which Dave wants to do this year—watch the ball come down in Times Square for New Year’s. He wants just the two of us to take off and go. I know he’s doing it mainly to take my mind off the fact that this year my dad’s not here to celebrate with us. That’s who he is. It’s who we are. He feels my pain; I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me sometimes. And maybe that is the thing that helps me the most; knowing that he feels with me. I know he misses my dad also; I can feel his pain. He and my dad always got along great. And over the past few weeks Dave has brought up several memories he has of my dad. It makes me happy when he shares them with me.

Dave will be fifty in a few months. He’s only eighteen years younger than my dad. I don’t want only eighteen more years with Dave. I want more. Over the past year Dave has shared with me things he still wants to do in life. There is a good amount of living still to be done. We’ll never be in our twenties again, but we can work toward being in the best shape possible, be the best we can be, enjoy life in its fullness. It’s who we are, and who we are striving to be. Doing it all together.

For those of you who follow the pages of my writing on both of my blogs you will find these words repeated on each. Though the blogs represent different sides of who I am, this post goes to the center of my life. It is about Dave, and the life we share. We are two who are weaved into one.

He is my love story; my life story. He is my anchor; my rock. I pull myself through each day knowing at the end he will hold me, cradle me if I need, and let me know that he is there. Some days that is all I have to hold onto, that I will lay in the comfort of his arms. I know it will get better. I will be stronger and the sorrow will pass. Right now, it feels good to be held up when I am weak.

I hope to post again before New Year’s, but I hate to make a promise I am not sure I can keep. So I will close this post with a wish for most blessed holiday, no matter what you celebrate this season. Draw your family and friends close, don’t let this year close without letting them know how special they are to you.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

from both of us

Things I Told My Daughter: About Sex and Choices

As parents we try to do all the right things while our children are growing up. We make choices we believe are correct at the time we make them with the information we have at that time. But as with anything else we don’t really see the results until the end, until our children are out in life making their own choices, living their own lives.

As I’ve said before many times, we are each the sum of our own life experiences. The same is true for our children. We teach them what we want them to learn as time progresses, hoping that they will take what we have instilled in them and live it out well into their adulthood. What we fail to understand most is that while we are the main influence on our children, we are not the only influence and our children are going to have experiences we are not directly involved in, therefore the sum of who they are is not going to be exactly what would have been our first choice.

What I’ve come to realize is that my children are not little robots which my husband and I have been able to program to carry out their lives as instructed. No, they are their own person, each of them. And the fact that they make choices that may be different than what I would have chosen for them gives me some sense of satisfaction. This tells me that they have the ability and desire to gather information, weigh out their choices, then make their own decisions based on what they feel is best and not follow the pack, or what someone may push on them. They will not merely follow the herd, of any sort. But they will value information that has proven to be most trustworthy and if you shoot straight with your kids and respect them as the individuals they are, you will be the biggest influence in their lives and they will come to you the most in gathering the information, wisdom and advice that they need.

Here’s where it hits the road, the fan, whatever it is it’s going to hit; it hits here.

My youngest daughter, 19, has been going with a young man(YM) for a little while now. It’s neither of the young men I wrote about in previous posts. This is a young man whom we’ve known for many years; I know his family quite well. For her it is the first of everything; first boyfriend, first date, first kiss. In some ways I am apprehensive. Not because of who YM is, but because my youngest is stepping into areas in which she has definite convictions, but I’m not going to be a fool to think that biology isn’t going to try to press her past those convictions in the heat of a moment.

Such a moment came about recently, and she told us about it.

YM and I don’t want to be alone again. We want to have time to ourselves, but we don’t want to have a chance to be tempted.

Because she spoke to us alone there was some time to formulate thoughts about how to handle this new information. I wish to help my daughter make the best choices for her, while a strong part of me would like to lock her in her room and keep her there. Ok, reality needs to be the focus. She is a young woman who would like to one day marry and have children. That isn’t going to happen locked in her room.

Another part of me feels a bit hypocritical in what I’d like drill into her in the memory that her dad and I didn’t make it to the marriage bed as virgins. We were each the other’s first, and to this day, each other’s only, and we were already committed to one another as I wore his engagement ring before anything got too far; but the truth is that biology and primal instinct took over before the legality of it.

So what do I say without sounding like a hypocrite? What do I tell her and YM that they will not only hear, but listen to and possibly heed?

The next time my daughter and YM were at the house we spoke. This is what I told them:

Sex is not just physical. There is a lot of emotion wrapped up in it also. There are some who try to take sex lightly, more like something recreational. But there are chemical reactions going on when there is physical intimacy, which brings about a certain amount of emotional bonding. When this happens there is a tendency for a person to put a shield around their heart, consciously or unconsciously, to try to block against what they feel. This done over and over again tends to cause a person to eventually not be able to bond in a healthy relationship.

I should insert here that YM had already been in a first relationship which lasted two years and had turned physical some point during that time. The break up was difficult for him and I addressed him directly about it:

How did the physical relationship you had with your last gf affect you?

He answered immediately, getting physical probably broke up our relationship.

Did it break up your relationship, or was the fact that you were physically involved cloud how you saw the relationship and where it was going? And perhaps if you weren’t involved on such a physical level, thus deeper emotional level, would you have seen what clearly were red flags in your relationship sooner and would you have broken up earlier than you did?

YM paused for a moment and thought about what I’d asked him. He agreed that some of the red flags were there but that because of the physical intimacy he didn’t see them. He sees it now because he looks back on it without the cloud of deep emotional bonding brought on by the physical.

I know that you are both committed to not wanting anything physical to happen, and you want to respect each other in that way. I’m all for that. But I also know what can happen in reality. I know how strong the physical pull is. Making the choice to not leave yourselves in a spot where it can happen is good, commendable. It keeps your heads straight.

I’m not going to lecture to wait until marriage. That is what I would like to see happen and I know that both of you have said the same thing. But, if at some time in the future you do seriously consider taking that step I would hope that it would be after a much deeper commitment is made on the part of each of you.

I would also hope that you would come and talk to us, and let us counsel you before anything happens. Allow us the opportunity to talk to you and help you make sure that it is what you want to do next for the right reasons and not something you jump into in the heat of the moment.

Our daughter and YM stood there a moment, not saying anything. I wasn’t sure how my words were received, if I should say anything more, or what else I could say.

You should be a motivational speaker, Mom. My daughter came over and gave me a hug. It was at that moment I felt I hit the mark where I needed to. I didn’t lecture my daughter to live up to standards I found difficult to live up to in my own life. I gave her plenty of room to be human and make her own choices. I also kept myself in that place of most influential in her life. She will seek out future information, advice and wisdom from me without fear of being judged or treated like she has no brain or that her feelings and thoughts have no validation.

I know what I would prefer her choices to be, but I will not delude myself into believing that she is not going to be influenced by her own experiences. I can only do what I can do to establish the best relationship with her I can. She is her own person and will make her own decisions in life. I expect her to own her own and be responsible in the decisions she makes, knowing and accepting that there will be consequences, good or bad, for each that she makes. I would like to earn her respect in what I have to say enough that she will turn to me when she needs help making those decisions.

Over the weekend my daughter and I talked again. She and YM had been talking about our conversation.

YM told me he agreed with what you said. He doesn’t want us to do anything until its right. He wishes he didn’t have sex with previous gf and knows that it wasn’t right. He wants us to wait.

I know this relationship is probably not the end all, be all for my daughter; that she and YM will spend some time together, then perhaps move on and there may be another YM down the road. How many of us marry our first boyfriend/girlfriend? My views are old fashioned, traditional, and I make no apologies; old fashioned works for me. My daughter knows she can talk to me about everything, including sex and I am more confident knowing that she will, and she will listen to and respect my views as I respect her. This is the best I can do for my children. I try not to judge people in general as I don’t wish to be judged by others. In this, then, I cannot judge my own children either. We each need to live our lives as we feel is best for us. My children are adults and they are the sum of their own experiences.

Establishing an Equilibrium

The improvement of one’s mind could entail many things. A main focus for me is taking a more in depth look at the world and the people around me. With modern technology at our fingertips the people around me come from various parts of the globe, different walks of life and diverse cultures. Changing how we see changes how we think, how we respond to what is around us. But we are still in control of what comes in, how it is processed and what we will do with it.

What happens when the rose colored glasses which we may have once donned fall away and we see some things differently? Do we see what is real or do we simply don another pair of glasses? Ones which are the exact opposite of what we were wearing; glasses which are dark, showing us all that is ugly in the world.

Just as the rose colored only showed us what we viewed as good and beautiful in the world, we may now only see black and dark grays and all that is unpleasant around us. We may have walked around with a dumb happy smile on our faces before, completely ignorant of reality, but now a scowl may be worn with a creased forehead and ignorance of reality still exists in our minds; we are still looking out at the world through a pair of lenses instead of with the naked eye.

What we see is skewed. The things we look at only come across partially, filtering out what the lens does not pick up.

When we get to this point we still have so much further to go. Yes, we have learned a different set of facts, but where we once mostly ignored the dark parts of what life is, we now overlook the bright parts of it as if they are almost non-existent. We somehow missed middle ground. We have to lose this fairly new pair of glasses to find an equilibrium we can live with to keep our sanity.

Just as the pendulum swings from side to side, so does our view of life, people and the world depending on where the pendulum hangs.

Many times in life when faced with something new, I could feel myself go from the one extreme to the other. It was a natural offset to rid myself of the old ideas in favor of the new. The problem was that the new ideas were just as radical as what I’d once held, void of any semblance of balance.

Seeing something new, that first wake up call to what was missed in our understanding of how things were, or how we thought they should be is often flooded with emotion, sometimes strong emotion. Perhaps confusion leaves us feeling so vulnerable that we scramble to try to make sense before evaluating all the data. This is when we find ourselves swinging to the opposite extreme.

The truth is we all find ourselves at some time…use whatever analogy you want…either changing out lenses or swinging on the pendulum, and we gather new information. We tend to seek out those who seemingly hold more knowledge about these ideas, these understandings than we do and we soak up everything they say, changing our view. This is a good thing as long as we remember that balance is the key.

Remembering to move forward and not stay where we are on our journey through life is what keeps us growing. It is good to see life through the eyes of other’s for the sake of understanding, but we must keep in mind that it is only one perspective.

We are each individuals.

We are each the sum of our own experiences through life.

We may have some things in common with others and it helps us to have empathy for them, but we need to remember that what it is we share is only a part of the whole. There are so many other factors which make us who we are and even in our commonalities we will view them and feel them differently.

It is why I keep searching, exploring, reaching forth on my journey toward new directions. I am thankful for those I meet along the way, those who may travel parallel with me for a time, and look forward to those I have yet to meet and share the time with.

Taking a little bit of each of those people and experiences with me, they are part of the equation of who I am. And when I reach the end of my journey I hope to look back at what I have done, and where I have been, and who I have met and have no regret.

 

Ingraining Grace: Gratitude

This post has been in the works for weeks. It’s been reworked a few times while I tried to find just the right style this series of posts would best be written.

It’s a subject which has become very personal to me. I’ve spent more time working these principles into my own life; ingraining them into who I am. It’s a bit sad to me when I think that at my age I am only now learning to embrace being feminine and that I have to actively work to be feminine, but I know that the more I do, the more it will be a natural part of who I am.

Growing up I was not taught grace, to be graceful. Drummed into my mind were the messages that I could do anything a man could do, and better. The things I was taught, overtly and covertly, was basically how to be masculine. Feminine qualities were frowned upon. I was not exposed to what would have been considered traditional homemaking skills; these I taught myself as an adult woman struggling to take care of the home I lived in after my husband took me as his wife. I brought no skills of keeping house into my marriage; it was learn by the seat of my pants education.

Grace is something I consider essential to being feminine. There was a time when girls were taught grace as part of what every woman needed to know. Some lessons were learned explicitly, others were picked up more subtly through observing the older women.

Since this is Thanksgiving I thought it appropriate to begin with the ingraining of gratitude. It is not as if I never uttered the word ‘thanks’ or wasn’t thankful for what I had in my life, but I am talking about that deeper level of gratitude that just about humbles a person.

It started out with a conscious reminder to say thank you to my husband, especially in the smallest things. I’m not sure he knew how to respond to those first attempts I made; they probably sounded out of character for me.

Beginning with those two little words. I don’t remember what it was for; maybe changing a light bulb or battery. A small start. A conscious acknowledgment.

Thank you. Eye contact. A smile.

He looked puzzled, gave a mumbled response, a shrug of his shoulders.

While changing the oil, mowing the lawn I step outside to watch him a few moments. When he looks up, takes a break I slip the two small words in.

Thank you.

He nods and responds.

We stop for dinner, or purchase something at the store; I look at him straight making sure he sees it in my eyes as they leave my lips.

Thank you.

He grins and answers.

Small conscious steps. Showing gratitude. Working toward becoming a woman of quality; his woman.

Just two simple words expressing much.

Thank you.

Realization of how often I’d not been using them, or not as they should be used. But each time now I continued to use these small words impacting big, on both of us.

For me these words brought realization of how much I took for granted. The more I used them the more I saw just how much I’d been given, provided and blessed with. Every day deliberate intention to use the words was another day I become conscious of some other thing I’d overlooked and took for granted, and another opportunity to say the words again.

Thank you.

The words have become automatic. No thought. With ease. I want to tell him. I need him to know I am thankful for all he does, all he is. I see it in everything about him.

Thank you.

In him I could see the words reflected. He not only hears them, he feels them. He expects them now, and I am too happy to give them. Just two simple words, eight letters, with a huge impact on the one who uses them sincerely and the one who receives them. A small gesture. A huge acknowledgement.

Thank you.

Progressing over time beyond just two words, in my actions, the look in my eyes; these things confirm what I want him to know.

Thank you.

In the afterglow of our intimacy I lay in his embrace, the words tumbling from my lips. Seemingly inadequate; just the smallest token, lacking sorely of just what I desire to express to him.

Thank you.

 

I want to take this opportunity to also wish a wonderful Thanksgiving to all who are celebrating today, as I also say thank you to those who have read these pages, possibly adding their own comments. I am humbled that anyone would find interest in the thoughts I tap out on the keyboard; my only hope being that you would find some small benefit from them. Thank you.

 

 

 

When You Know It’s Working

Last month my youngest turned nineteen. This will be the last year I can claim to have a teenager. I’m sure there are a few more grey hairs to mark the occasion. It’s a good thing the blond helps the grey to blend in quite well.

I had to decide what to serve in the way of cake. I knew that nothing I would go out to buy would fit into the Paleo way we are eating. We’ve been doing great, staying on course eating healthy and I didn’t want to veer off. I pulled out a newly acquired Paleo cookbook and made chocolate cupcakes with mocha frosting. They came out pretty good. I didn’t tell anyone that the frosting had a base of avocado until after they ate the cupcakes, by then they’d already decided the cakes were good so I didn’t get any complaints about it.

I feel proud of the progress we’ve been making toward improving ourselves and focusing on being the best we can. Just about all the blogs I read these days are bluntly honest, but they are also written by people who are working to achieve quality in their lives and passing along the information they have which I am thankful to read and glean from.

One of the terms I’ve seen around often is ‘fake it till you make it’; I couldn’t agree more. The mark of true change and knowing the work you’ve put in is paying off is when it begins to come natural; almost ingrained. Making the cupcakes as opposed to purchasing something that would probably throw our bodies into sugar shock at this point is one way I can see the progress.

The other day I got another measure of how far I’ve come when I mentioned to my son that there were bags of softener salt in the car that he could help his dad carry in. I wish I could remember the exact words I’d used but I cannot; it was that automatic. A short time later my husband came to me to tell me about the comment my son made to him when he went out to help with the salt. He told his dad, “Mom asked me to come out and help with the salt…she didn’t get all authoritative and bossy like she used to.” I don’t even know how to comment about that; the significance of his statement that perhaps I am softening, not as hard around the edges.

The other night my husband woke me in the middle of the night for…um…reasons. It was the second time in the past few months he’s done this. No complaints from me, no turning down my husband; if anything I felt thrilled to please him at any time he needed, even out of a sound sleep. This is a  definite 180 from the person I was even two years ago. I understand my husband’s needs so much more and it’s not a problem to tend to them.

It seems to all be falling into place, the healthier lifestyle, softer, more feminine demeanor, being the wife my husband should have instead of just accepting what he can get, what should be expected of me. It’s been a tough couple of years to get to where I am now, but to see these things in myself and be at a point where I don’t have to consciously remind myself of an appropriate response, but to have it occur without thought is a win for me. It lets me know that what I’m doing is working and that I’m on the right track. It’s one thing to automatically think what was my usual default, stop myself, rethink how I should respond and then do it. It’s something completely different to respond then think back on that response and realize that I didn’t need to change anything in my mind; that I have a new default to the situation.

So ‘faking’ femininity until its coming across naturally, consciously and consistently making the best food choices, making a habit of exercising to the point that my body feels ‘off’ if I don’t exercise, and responding properly in my relationship to my husband is beginning to show without thinking about it; a new default in my mind. It’s nice when you know it’s working.

I don’t have a finish line in mind; what would I do if I got to it? I hope to always move forward, continue making improvements and building a quality woman within me. It feels rather good. But I wouldn’t have gotten here without that first step.

Finding Strength to Fight

Wanting to walk away and bringing oneself to walk away are two entirely different things. Maybe I should, I’m not sure. Am I strong enough to stay? At the moment I’m angry enough to stay.

I was seriously ready to just pull down this site. Just walk away from all the blogs which I read on this part of the net. What am I doing reading here anyway? Do I have anything to add here? Are my experiences or what I know of worth to pass on.

Over the past several months I have learned more reading here than I’ve learned in the last twenty years or more, and that’s with attending community college for a couple of years. I have a mind, a brain, and it works. God gave it to me and I need to use it; to think for myself. I can figure out right from wrong, and I’ve learned so much of what is wrong that I’ve been blind to.

At the same time it’s been difficult to read many things because I tend to feel things deeply, emotionally and some days I weep (I’m such a girl in that way.) This was perhaps the biggest reason to not only stop blogging, but to stop reading altogether. Maybe I could just put my head back in the sand and go back to being blissfully ignorant.

Then I read this email sent to lgrobins over at Unmasking Feminism;

 Your views on women are abhorrent and disgusting.

There is no way you are happier as a subserviant housewife than I am. I have a college degree, I make my own decisions, have a job, and control my future. I see you used to do that at one point. Then you decided to get married, but I am not sure how you translated that into becoming second class and subserviant? Lots of married people are happy with the wife having equal say in the relationship. You will always be second class, and place yourself there. If you really think women were happier before feminism you are sorely mistaken- or do you think that women are so sinful and awful we do not deserve to be happy? Or do you think that women, yourself included, are so stupid that we need a man to make choices for us? That he needs to be my Captain because i cannot do it myself, because YOU cannot do it yourself? Do you think yourself that stupid? Or is it some “God’s way” bullshit?

The email can be read in its entirety here.

This is what has me angry. Because it wasn’t an attack just on one woman, but on any individual, male or female, who dares to step out of line from the agenda that has been push fed down the throat of every American child who walked the halls of public school in the last several decades, and attended University as adults; including, as I’ve recently learned, some who identify themselves as Christian based.

For so many years I thought it was just me having to deal with a mother who just wasn’t happy with my choice in life. Even though Mr. D and I had our problems I stayed home, schooled our children, took care of our home, canned food from the garden or local farmers, prepared meals from scratch, sewed clothing and other essentials, built some of our furniture, etc. Does anything in that denote the stupidity as mentioned by the writer of the email? Mr. D brought home enough to provide for our family and I stretched it so that we never felt like we lived along the government definition of the poverty line. We never felt it. We didn’t have all the gadgets which many of the families we knew enjoyed, but life was good. Still is.

The honest truth was I never felt lacking, nor did I feel second class, except when my own mother set about to try to “educate” me about my condition, as defined by her. Being raised entrenched in feminist ideology the lessons didn’t seem to stick so well with me. I was and still am a disappointment to my mother. She would constantly tell me much of the same things written in the email above; ask me when I was going to do something for myself, telling me I couldn’t be satisfied being just a mother and a wife. She never understood I was quite satisfied and content being where I was, doing what I was doing.

Early on in our marriage my mother, step father and brother came to visit Mr. D and I where he was stationed with the military. I was excited to cook a big meal for everyone and prepared it all from scratch; having taught myself skills I’d not acquired growing up. Everyone loved it. From that point on I’d noticed that very rarely when they came to visit would I be able to cook. I’d shopped and planned to make a meal, but was often told we were being taken out to eat. There were times when my mother would visit alone that I would cook and we’d eat together around our table at home, but never when my step father was along. I’d learn many years later that my step father’s repeated comments of how much he liked the meal I’d prepared just rubbed my mother wrong in many ways.

Up until recently I thought it was just her. I’ve learned over the past several months of reading and researching online that it wasn’t. Reading the email above just makes it more so apparent that there is a much wider fight going on than just what I’ve fought with my mother through the years.

I don’t know if my voice or my words mean anything or makes any difference. I do know that if I set an example of shutting up and putting my head back into the sand, I will always have to deal with the hate exhibited by the likes of the writer of that email and my mother who will always try to ridicule, cut down and make me feel ashamed. If I don’t stand on what I know is right, then that is when I should feel ashamed.

The simple fact is that I am not attacking them, nor do I want to attack anyone personally. If I attack anything its skewed policies, biased and unfair laws, and false ideologies just to get started. If feminism wants true equality and choice for women then why am I called second class for my choice? Those who do attack personally only show that they feel they have no control; they lash out in anger and in fear.

I don’t have it all sorted out yet. I’m still learning, unraveling the confusion, and gathering information. These pages help me sort it out. Perhaps that which I had to grow up with and dealt with from my mother whose venom hurt deeper than what any stranger could ever inflict on me but didn’t take me down; perhaps because of that I am strong enough to deal with backlash for speaking up and for what I say. I will not always get it right, I’ll just keep trying.