Found a gift in my illness
I finally found a definite gift in my illness. I know the big payoff is learning to recognize and correct tension. I don't have faith that I can successfully do that, so it's not currently very cheering. However, I've realized another bonus. I don't have to wear absorbents in my undies anymore! I've spent the last few months clenching those pelvic floor muscles for all I'm worth, trying to wait to run to the toilet for nothing, prevent small sharts, control the spasms and slow the process, and generally operating them with great focus.
Now years ago, when I was sexual (I do miss it but I don't know how to revive it with him. He's got no sensuality due to his baggage issues. Will he some day? Probably not. If I can just awaken a sense of adventure in him I'll be satisfied! So anyway, years ago I had pretty good control of my pelvic muscles. At a very young age I came across an article in a woman's skin mag about them, explaining where they were, what they felt like, how to clench and release. It was posted as a way of being more sexy. Well I was about 12 yrs old and sexualized (privately only, nobody else knew) already. I blame my voracious reading and access to wildly inappropriate material. I wondered for awhile if someone had raped me young and I'd suppressed it. Now, however, no, I think I cannot hide things from myself, have yet to see any evidence of molestation in the family, and just don't think that was included in my childhood complaints. Nuff said. If I have memories some day that were repressed, well I'll deal with that. So anyway, I avidly began practicing these new "kegel" exercises. Soon it hit the news as good for women for childbirth, to prevent leaking in old age, and fighting back ache, as well as being good for sex! Throughout my young adulthood I maintained these and even read about how the ancient Indians were fully versed in this physical fitness. I read it in the Kama Sutra that there are seven rings of muscle, each can be controlled individually! So I did reach a point where I could feel it and control it. But then I got single, then married to someone who only thrusts, does not make love, has no sensuality, only ruts like a dog for thirty minutes. So well, between the ten years celibacy and my obesity, then the last ten years of a frigid marriage, my kegels sat abandoned and atrophied. Remembering them to avoid peeing when I cough or laugh or sneeze was not really the same as the frisson of sexuality that can strike a woman multiple times a day and encourages remembering. Now, however, I've had a boot camp for kegels. I can feel all seven rings again! LOL
I wish I could share what I know about sexuality with Dan but he can't even stand a caress or deliver one. Like the fear and sorrow, how can a person have empathy if they can't allow themselves to feel the feeling? How can you make love with no empathy? He's sixty already, could he possibly learn that still?
Well as I say, I'll be satisfied if he gains some sense of adventure, and quits raging. Yes, the raging, that is a big one. He started again saturday evening. I corrected him, but paid a huge cost of stress doing so and it took three fucking hours for him to come round and hear me. He doesn't even see himself starting these things! I mean, we're sitting here chilling in our respective stations, separately. He turns around with a "WHY" followed by a complaint followed immediately by an answer, the same old fucking answer I could kill with a baseball hat, "because they are evil and corrupt and going to kill us all or stick us in work camps!!!! They want the whole planet for themselves!!!!" I mean, the paranoia is intense enough just describing it makes me tense up! He keeps going back there no matter the topic or who brings it up or how. Everything is "the govt is out to get us" and "the shadowy world controllers are poised to take us all down" and "how dare they tax me?" He insists that he's doing something against it by railing in the living room, slowly killing his wife with stress. No matter how often I point out that he's not making a difference. He just takes that as me criticising and putting him down when I mean it most honestly. Yelling in the living room does NOT change anything, affect anything, fix anything, tell anyone anything. Nothing. This man doesn't even comment or post on social media. Nothing. Not a tweet, a g+ like, not even comments on the insane fear mongering youtube videos he enjoys! Exactly HOW are you not laying down and taking it? By yelling at ME?
So three hours of trying to hammer that point into his head while he argues that his anger is unavoidable and lists the things he's mad about to prove his point, getting mad all over again.
Seriously, is this something I'm expected to endure from the first week of our wedding for the rest of our lives? I refuse! Ten years is enough!
Boy didn't I relive that again just now. Breathe. Ham Sah Ham Sah in the nose, slow out the mouth.
deeper, slower, keep control, till this passes.
I mean, why should I be doing this and he's just getting away with raging and creating this stress? My sense of personal threat and outrage increase the stress for me too.
Of course, I can't expect anyone to give a damn why my marriage to "that really good man who made a good living" failed. They'll just blame me. There's a multitude of blames, after all, from being too shrewish to being too picky, to being too inconstant. Nobody can understand what it's like to have someone raging routinely in the corner and feeling entitled to emotional echoing and encouragement from the only other human in the room. Because I don't stoke his fires with him, he calls me unsupportive and argumentative. I've taken to telling him that if he's not satisfied, he can leave, that if he doesn't like talking to me, talk to someone else and shut up.
Nice marriage, eh? How is this my fault? How do I escape the stain of being to blame without abandoning my life story and either refusing to talk about myself to others, or lying to them to hide it? Well I guess, if they are strangers, they don't need to know why I'm divorced. These days everyone knows how it goes, even most kids.
Still, it's all just so overwhelming. I wish he'd clue up. But he's crazy, you see, and I can't know if that crazy is mechanical, through long-term brain damage, or can be fixed via neuroplasticity and pure effort. If he doesn't put in the effort, we'll never know, since we can't study him or examine his brain or do anything except try the only option open, making an effort.
I still remember the day he turned on his threat anger directly at me. Fuck me, mate, you're not allowed to do that at all. No no. That tells me you're not to be trusted physically either, don't you see? I was telling him that he had to face his fears or he'd never cure his anger and he took it as personal slander. To suggest that he's a coward! Well, that's insult of the highest order, Madam, the highest, and to answer it, pistols at dawn!! Well, that's the approach he took. I guess I was too right. I mean, who's he think he's fooling? He's a rank fucking coward of the worst sort!! I've noticed for years and known for sure for several years. I'm not going to go painting his shirt fronts yellow and sending him out to be shamed, not even metaphorically. No no, the only use for the information is to attack that anger, shore up that courage, teach him to be brave!!! I mean, it's either he learns to be brave or I leave, really. I can't stay with a man who lets cowardice make his decisions. He should know that, but he doesn't know it's cowardice. He's lived with his fears in the disguise of righteous fury for so long it's a battle just to prove he's being fearful.
At least he doesn't excuse fears like previous men in my life. I mean, something about me just draws the cowards. From the meek obedient girly boys to the stiff upper lip lackeys, they've been scared men over and over again. I never before had one that didn't know he was scared. However, most of the previous not only knew they were afraid, but kept that fear shored up with reminding themselves of the things they fear.
Geeze people, that's no way to be brave!! You want to be brave? Well you put those fears out of your mind!! I find the best method is to try and plan for it a bit, then accept that you're doing to have to endure what you cant' prevent. Dan keeps saying that accepting what does not please you is the same as agreeing. I can't figure out how to explain why it isn't. It certainly looks like it. I guess.
But last night I did have a moment of brilliance. Or the night before? I lose track. Anyway, I said "if you have a problem with someone, the first step is not to fight them. That should be the last step. First, you must say to yourself "how can I be extremely generous with this person?" If you can find a way, then you make a friend who, instead of obstructing you, will aid you. I find this works almost every time. Once in a while the person is actually intentionally trying to grief you. Step two is "how can I go around this problem? Do something else? What else?" Thus far, the first two steps have worked in pretty nearly every problem except so far, Dan giving me stress. If you can't find an alternate route and you can't turn the obstacle into an advantage, then you try to hunker down all stubborn and endure it. Let it wear itself out on the impassive shell of your stubbornness. That works really well most times. If that causes you damage, and you can't repeat previous steps to check for changes in the situation, then finally you can stand up and fight. Dan is an example of it coming to that, but rarely do I find fighting to be necessary.
Well he got really quiet after I told him that. Not argumentative, not agreeable, just thoughtfully quiet. I guess he had to admit I was wise, but of course he wouldn't do so out loud. I don't think one telling will hammer it into his thick chicken shit skull though, so we'll see.
If I could just find his sense of courage, but he always relies on his own strength as his only rock, and that's a weak place to stand. I've stood there. No matter how strong your will, it doesn't build the same confidence as feeling like you've got someone tough in your corner.
Arguing with this man ensures he doesn't feel like I'm in his corner either. How can I be when he's painted himself in, colour "paranoia purple."
So anyway, I'm at least getting my pelvic muscles strong again.
Now years ago, when I was sexual (I do miss it but I don't know how to revive it with him. He's got no sensuality due to his baggage issues. Will he some day? Probably not. If I can just awaken a sense of adventure in him I'll be satisfied! So anyway, years ago I had pretty good control of my pelvic muscles. At a very young age I came across an article in a woman's skin mag about them, explaining where they were, what they felt like, how to clench and release. It was posted as a way of being more sexy. Well I was about 12 yrs old and sexualized (privately only, nobody else knew) already. I blame my voracious reading and access to wildly inappropriate material. I wondered for awhile if someone had raped me young and I'd suppressed it. Now, however, no, I think I cannot hide things from myself, have yet to see any evidence of molestation in the family, and just don't think that was included in my childhood complaints. Nuff said. If I have memories some day that were repressed, well I'll deal with that. So anyway, I avidly began practicing these new "kegel" exercises. Soon it hit the news as good for women for childbirth, to prevent leaking in old age, and fighting back ache, as well as being good for sex! Throughout my young adulthood I maintained these and even read about how the ancient Indians were fully versed in this physical fitness. I read it in the Kama Sutra that there are seven rings of muscle, each can be controlled individually! So I did reach a point where I could feel it and control it. But then I got single, then married to someone who only thrusts, does not make love, has no sensuality, only ruts like a dog for thirty minutes. So well, between the ten years celibacy and my obesity, then the last ten years of a frigid marriage, my kegels sat abandoned and atrophied. Remembering them to avoid peeing when I cough or laugh or sneeze was not really the same as the frisson of sexuality that can strike a woman multiple times a day and encourages remembering. Now, however, I've had a boot camp for kegels. I can feel all seven rings again! LOL
I wish I could share what I know about sexuality with Dan but he can't even stand a caress or deliver one. Like the fear and sorrow, how can a person have empathy if they can't allow themselves to feel the feeling? How can you make love with no empathy? He's sixty already, could he possibly learn that still?
Well as I say, I'll be satisfied if he gains some sense of adventure, and quits raging. Yes, the raging, that is a big one. He started again saturday evening. I corrected him, but paid a huge cost of stress doing so and it took three fucking hours for him to come round and hear me. He doesn't even see himself starting these things! I mean, we're sitting here chilling in our respective stations, separately. He turns around with a "WHY" followed by a complaint followed immediately by an answer, the same old fucking answer I could kill with a baseball hat, "because they are evil and corrupt and going to kill us all or stick us in work camps!!!! They want the whole planet for themselves!!!!" I mean, the paranoia is intense enough just describing it makes me tense up! He keeps going back there no matter the topic or who brings it up or how. Everything is "the govt is out to get us" and "the shadowy world controllers are poised to take us all down" and "how dare they tax me?" He insists that he's doing something against it by railing in the living room, slowly killing his wife with stress. No matter how often I point out that he's not making a difference. He just takes that as me criticising and putting him down when I mean it most honestly. Yelling in the living room does NOT change anything, affect anything, fix anything, tell anyone anything. Nothing. This man doesn't even comment or post on social media. Nothing. Not a tweet, a g+ like, not even comments on the insane fear mongering youtube videos he enjoys! Exactly HOW are you not laying down and taking it? By yelling at ME?
So three hours of trying to hammer that point into his head while he argues that his anger is unavoidable and lists the things he's mad about to prove his point, getting mad all over again.
Seriously, is this something I'm expected to endure from the first week of our wedding for the rest of our lives? I refuse! Ten years is enough!
Boy didn't I relive that again just now. Breathe. Ham Sah Ham Sah in the nose, slow out the mouth.
deeper, slower, keep control, till this passes.
I mean, why should I be doing this and he's just getting away with raging and creating this stress? My sense of personal threat and outrage increase the stress for me too.
Of course, I can't expect anyone to give a damn why my marriage to "that really good man who made a good living" failed. They'll just blame me. There's a multitude of blames, after all, from being too shrewish to being too picky, to being too inconstant. Nobody can understand what it's like to have someone raging routinely in the corner and feeling entitled to emotional echoing and encouragement from the only other human in the room. Because I don't stoke his fires with him, he calls me unsupportive and argumentative. I've taken to telling him that if he's not satisfied, he can leave, that if he doesn't like talking to me, talk to someone else and shut up.
Nice marriage, eh? How is this my fault? How do I escape the stain of being to blame without abandoning my life story and either refusing to talk about myself to others, or lying to them to hide it? Well I guess, if they are strangers, they don't need to know why I'm divorced. These days everyone knows how it goes, even most kids.
Still, it's all just so overwhelming. I wish he'd clue up. But he's crazy, you see, and I can't know if that crazy is mechanical, through long-term brain damage, or can be fixed via neuroplasticity and pure effort. If he doesn't put in the effort, we'll never know, since we can't study him or examine his brain or do anything except try the only option open, making an effort.
I still remember the day he turned on his threat anger directly at me. Fuck me, mate, you're not allowed to do that at all. No no. That tells me you're not to be trusted physically either, don't you see? I was telling him that he had to face his fears or he'd never cure his anger and he took it as personal slander. To suggest that he's a coward! Well, that's insult of the highest order, Madam, the highest, and to answer it, pistols at dawn!! Well, that's the approach he took. I guess I was too right. I mean, who's he think he's fooling? He's a rank fucking coward of the worst sort!! I've noticed for years and known for sure for several years. I'm not going to go painting his shirt fronts yellow and sending him out to be shamed, not even metaphorically. No no, the only use for the information is to attack that anger, shore up that courage, teach him to be brave!!! I mean, it's either he learns to be brave or I leave, really. I can't stay with a man who lets cowardice make his decisions. He should know that, but he doesn't know it's cowardice. He's lived with his fears in the disguise of righteous fury for so long it's a battle just to prove he's being fearful.
At least he doesn't excuse fears like previous men in my life. I mean, something about me just draws the cowards. From the meek obedient girly boys to the stiff upper lip lackeys, they've been scared men over and over again. I never before had one that didn't know he was scared. However, most of the previous not only knew they were afraid, but kept that fear shored up with reminding themselves of the things they fear.
Geeze people, that's no way to be brave!! You want to be brave? Well you put those fears out of your mind!! I find the best method is to try and plan for it a bit, then accept that you're doing to have to endure what you cant' prevent. Dan keeps saying that accepting what does not please you is the same as agreeing. I can't figure out how to explain why it isn't. It certainly looks like it. I guess.
But last night I did have a moment of brilliance. Or the night before? I lose track. Anyway, I said "if you have a problem with someone, the first step is not to fight them. That should be the last step. First, you must say to yourself "how can I be extremely generous with this person?" If you can find a way, then you make a friend who, instead of obstructing you, will aid you. I find this works almost every time. Once in a while the person is actually intentionally trying to grief you. Step two is "how can I go around this problem? Do something else? What else?" Thus far, the first two steps have worked in pretty nearly every problem except so far, Dan giving me stress. If you can't find an alternate route and you can't turn the obstacle into an advantage, then you try to hunker down all stubborn and endure it. Let it wear itself out on the impassive shell of your stubbornness. That works really well most times. If that causes you damage, and you can't repeat previous steps to check for changes in the situation, then finally you can stand up and fight. Dan is an example of it coming to that, but rarely do I find fighting to be necessary.
Well he got really quiet after I told him that. Not argumentative, not agreeable, just thoughtfully quiet. I guess he had to admit I was wise, but of course he wouldn't do so out loud. I don't think one telling will hammer it into his thick chicken shit skull though, so we'll see.
If I could just find his sense of courage, but he always relies on his own strength as his only rock, and that's a weak place to stand. I've stood there. No matter how strong your will, it doesn't build the same confidence as feeling like you've got someone tough in your corner.
Arguing with this man ensures he doesn't feel like I'm in his corner either. How can I be when he's painted himself in, colour "paranoia purple."
So anyway, I'm at least getting my pelvic muscles strong again.