Fall Into Me

There's a country song that I really, really love. It's called "Fall Into Me", and Sugarland sings it. It's so soft, and so poetic, and gentle, and I just really love everything about it. There are other songs with that title, but this one...this one is my favorite.


Steven is so often my safety, my security, such a strength in my life. I have nightmares. Horrible night terrors that leave me sobbing and panting to catch my breath, covered in a thin sheen of sweat and trembling. Inevitably, when my dreams get the worst of me, when I can't drag myself awake, out of the depths of my own subconscious, there's his voice, and his hands, and his chest and shoulder, pulling me out. His arms that wrap around me, strong and sure, and so, so safe and very present.

He is so often my sanity. Working as a CNA is definitely a passion of mine. It's not my forever goal, but, for right this minute, I love the ability to care and give to people sick and miserable. But, it is draining. And, when I come home exhausted, frustrated, and upset--It's Steven. Forcing me to open up, to let him hear all the things that scare me, infuriate me, break my heart, or make me laugh. It's him, goading me into a better state of mind and tucking me into bed with our boxer before he goes off to work.


He's patience. When I just HAVE to call him, just to hear his voice--it's always there at the end of the line. Whether I call at 1 pm or 3 am, I'm confident he'll answer and respond to whatever nonsense reason I've come up with to cover the fact that I'm actually that needy. And then, it's "I love you, baby. Going back to sleep--I'll see you when you come home. Can't wait."

Our personalities are so opposite--I'm usually bouncing off the walls, distracted, hurrying, excited, spazzing, happy, hungry--in full gear until I fall into bed. He's chill. Nothing really flusters him, and it takes more than a poke with a sharp stick to make him angry. I panic, he's calm.

But, over the course of time, I've come to realize I want to be that strength(albeit in a different way) for him. I love to rub his back when he gets home, because I know it bothers him. I want to hear about his day--the people he loves at work, and the others that he...well, he doesn't love them. :) I want to be able to snug him when he's upset, to tease him into laughing. Corny though it may be, I want to be that song for him. I'm not usually a lyric poster---but, geez, this song:

 

 

When the weight of the world bears down so strong,

You leave footprints on the street

And there's too many miles to face

Without a few more hours sleep--

When the storm clouds overhead

Won't shed any rain to quench your thirst---

 

I want to be the one you reach for first.

 

When your faith is stretched so thin

That you can see straight through your soul--

And you can't find a nickel to buy a smile

Because your pockets all have holes--

You wanna shut the door and hide before

The day can get much worse.

 

I want to be the one you reach for first.

 

Fall into me--

My arms are open wide

And you don't have to say a word.

Cuz I already see

That it's hard, and you're scared,

And you're tired and it hurts,

And I wanna be the one you reach for first.

 

 

I wanna be the bottle

You been drinking with your eyes

Or the road you run away on,

You've been running all your life.

The third row pew that you last knew

As a child in church--

 

I wanna be the one you reach for first.

Fall into me.

My arms are open wide,

And you don't have to say a word

Cuz I already see

That it's hard, and you're scared,

And you're tired and it hurts,

And I wanna be the one you reach for first.

 

Before you turn the key

Before you fall asleep,

Before you drift away to fight

Those demons waiting for you in your dreams...

Before you, arms are stretched wide open,

Before you're reaching to the sky,

Before you're searching for direction

For all the answers to your whys.

 

Fall into me,

Oh, my arms are stretched wide open

Because I already see,

That it's hard, and you're scared,

And you're tired, and I know it hurts.

That it's hard, and you're scared, and you're tired, and it hurts...

And I wanna be, the one you reach for first.

 

 

 

Admittedly, I think prayer is something that should come very first, but my heart for Steven is this. That when he needs someone, it's me. That when he's angry and just needs to vent, that it's me. When he's sad, and his heart is breaking, it's me. That, in my crazy, all over the place way--I can be his strength, like he's mine. He loves me, beyond all reason. Through all my faults, in all my hard times, through accusations and fear and bad dreams, he loves me. And, I want to constantly be knowing him better, to find better ways to help him, better ways to love him. And, this song just really, really resonated with me. Love it.

 

Corny?

 

Probably.

 

Cheesy?

 

Probably.

 

Honest?

 

Undoubtedly. 



Blown Away

Can I just say, sometimes, my husband blows me away.

My real dad...he's a character. Honestly. Throughout my life, he's been a lot of things. A druggie. A hillbilly. An alcoholic. Crazy as all hell(really, certified and everything--he's quite proud of it). He's also been my constant encourager. He loves with a heart of gold as big as the whole of the USA. He always has something to say, usually couched in language more colorful than any rainbow.

When I thought I couldn't do it, he was there, telling me that he and my mom were too smart to have raised a dumb kid, and for me to get out there a try. After all, "What's the worst that could happen? You f*** up? Big deal, everyone's done it."

When I thought Steven and I were never going to make it, he listened to me rage and cry and watched me throw things and let me shoot far more than I should have. Then, when my hurt and fury was spent, he informed me that love wasn't something that was "fallen into"...it was something both parties had to work for and towards, and was a struggle til the day we died. He assured me that's why he had Yorkies and not a woman, but if I was quite finished, I should probably head home and work on loving the man I was with.

When I was dead broke, he told me that, if he had money, he'd give it to me-- but, as it was, I could join the club, and welcome real life through my door, and helped me laugh through the stress.

I was an oops baby, for sure. My mom and dad were already divorced; but, every time he talks to me,(at least once a day), my dad has told me at some point that "You were wanted. You were hoped for, and waited for. You may be a lot of things. But, one thing you are, always--is loved."

He tells me that I'm a blend of him and my mother, and married to Steven--and that makes me some kind of "unholy trinity"; he's one you just have to meet--and you can't help but laugh every time you're with him.

Now, my dad never graduated high school. In a lot of ways, his education level doesn't pass second grade. He's not stupid. He's not. He just didn't finish. Didn't figure he'd ever need to, I reckon. Now, though, he's desperate for a job, and he can't get anything without his GED.

He tried telling us he couldn't do it.

That he didn't even "have a base of knowledge for ya'll to work with."

And, ya know--he's on his way over here, anyway.

For Steven to sit down and work with him, work with him til he gets it. Because my Dad needs to feel like he's done something. He needs to feel good about himself again, and he wants this.

And, I can't think of enough ways to thank my husband, who loves my Dad, and myself, beyond all reason.

You guys were right--why borrow trouble? He's good to me. I love him. He loves me. And, you guys--you all are great. A constant source of encouragement and advice. Thank you all, so, so much.

When Ya Just Wanna Say, "They Started It"...

This could turn out to be a very long, rambling, confusing story. And, it's just as well, because I feel very confused, and very spent. I don't understand totally where my feelings are, or what they mean, or why I'm having them.

Steven and I have a couple friend--let's go with Marc and Jenni, to make it less confusing on that front. Marc and Steven have been best friends since they were little--they went through boy scouts together, we moved in together a week before they got married, they practically lived at one another's house growing up. And, quite frankly, the two of them are so scarily similar in so many ways it's not even funny.

And, then, there's Jenni. We all four went to school together, but ran with different circles, so I only knew her as a running partner in track. When Steven and Marc would hang out, though, they often wanted their women with them, so she and I started being very good friends. Now, though, I find her company exhausting. She's extremely critical, and it just wears me out. Before Steven and I were married, we were wrong because we were sleeping together before marriage; that was the first thing, and I could kind of go with that.

But, then we got married, and we bought a house. The colors were awful, I needed a folding table in the laundry room, the bedroom was too small, and she didn't like the paneling in the dog's area.

They are in the process of buying and remodeling a house that's bigger than ours, but is in far worse shape, so now I'm going about my schooling wrong.

I shouldn't be shooting for NP license after my RN, because it's 'crazy' wanting to work in a hospital for the rest my life. Also, (we work in the same hospital, doing the same job, mind, she just works days to my nights, 4 North to my 4 South), I should switch to days, despite the pay cut, because the people who work nights are 'lazy' because we don't give baths.

And, to top that off, I should go down to part time and make Steven pick up an extra job, like she's doing to her husband, because going to school full time and working full time is 'stupid.' Not that I'm 'really going full time. I mean, seriously, Grace, your school is only four days a week, mine's five.'


Her relationship with her husband also makes me sincerely uncomfortable. When we go to the men's softball games(they play on the same team), she wants to leave, and wants me to go with her. 'It's so HOT out here, Grace! I just want to LEAVE.'

"Jenni, your husband is batting."
"OH, it'll be over in just a second anyway, there's not really any point in watching. See, there? It's already over."

They get in these horrible, us-before-DD-and-then-some fights, with holes in the walls and coffee tables that crash to the floor, glass shattering to accent the sounds of the yells. They argue some in front of us, and it's always so uncomfortable to me. Steven and I have been talking about them a lot recently, because I've been less willing than usual to go help them set up their house.

Their relationship has baffled us, the lack of respect on both sides stunning us, and worrying us for their future. But, and maybe it's just THAT time of the month talking, but last night, I had the uncomfortable 'who are WE to judge that relationship' feeling. After all, he's cheated, and I've gone out driving with a guy friend of mine deep into the night, leaving Steven sick jealous. We've argued. He's lost his temper, I've thrown things. Granted, all of these things have been more than a little while back, but still...

Who are we to say we're different?

They argue, scream, punch walls, cold silences--but they've never looked away from the other. It's always only been them, since they were married.

And, what if I'm just deluding myself, that we're doing better? It feels that way, but, if you'll remember, the first time I caught him cheating--the post just prior was a huge breakthrough for me. I felt like we were doing the best we'd ever done, that we were turning a corner in our relationship...and all the while, I wasn't enough. Why is this time different? How do I know that it is? What if I'm just fooling myself?

Last night, when he and I talked, he lay beside me on the bed in the dark and kissed the side of my face. "We're working on us, Grace," he told me. "We're really working on openness and communication. Both of us. We've made mistakes, it happens. We're working on it."

I'd asked him if he thought we were going to make it, if we could do more than survive with our relationship, if we were going to thrive. There was no hesitation. "Yes." But, what if I had asked him that question last May? Would there have been hesitation then? Could I even tell a lie from the truth?

After a long moment of silence, he leaned his head against mine and said quietly, simply, "I'm sorry." A heartbeat, two, a breath.

"For what?"

"Hurting you. This should never have been something you had to worry about."

I lay in bed, still enough to count his breaths, thinking last night. And, you know what I've decided? For some reason, today, I'm hurting. I don't understand where all this is coming from. I don't know how to deal with it. He's been so good to me lately. He's treated me like an angel, tells me how excited he is that I'll be off more now for school, that he'll have my evenings instead of the hospital. That we'll make it. When I got upset over the money situation, he held me and rocked me.

"Just spank me already," I snapped. "Get it over with."

"Mm, mm," he answered. "I don't think you need spanking. I think you need holding."

He's been the kind of leader I've always wanted out of him...and yet...

What if this is all fake? And, I'm just too stupid to see it, just like before?

Shameless Stolen Tagline

I don't know how many of you read The Dish With Ward and June--but, you all really should, lol. It's always a very inspiring read; it seems often to touch on a subject that I really needed to "hear" right then.


Today, it was based off the tagline "Let's stop competing against each other, and work on completing each other."

School starts at the end of the month(I promise, I'm getting somewhere with this), and I'm going to only working three nights a week. Granted, they'll be weekends, but..since I normally work 5-6 nights a week... I normally have a fair bit of bonus and over-time pay. The more I've thought about this, the more I've stressed. How are we going to make it? Should I try to keep picking up? School has to come first...but, just HOW first? And, then, I start to budget. Not going to lie...I've budgeted clear through June of next year.

For the chick who's used to chunking money back in to our Emergency Fund(Savings), and extra towards debt, the idea of not having any extra is a terrifying thought. And, yet, instead of leaning on Steven, and letting all his, "Hey, we're going to make it. This is why we're going to school. It's going to be tight, but hey--you married the king of making hurt work. We can do this," get through to me...I've fought. I've snapped. My attitude has been in the toilet. I've been spanked more in the last two weeks than I have in the last three months. It's been crazy.

But, last night, I think we came to a sort of resolution, one that was only hammered home by June and Ward's post. Steven and I were arguing; I asked him if he needed to use my car for the next day's work. It's not our preference, either one of us--but, my car sips gas, while his chugs it.

"No," he said, stretching out on the bed, eyes half closed, ready for sleep. "I got gas this morning." A moment of dead silence.

"How did you do that?" I asked. Maybe he didn't sense the danger in my tone.

"Out of our account, why?"

"You broke budget!" I accused, instantly incensed. After all my hours of sitting and crunching numbers! How dare he! Get gas for his car!! What??

"Grace, I had to have gas," he reasoned.

"No! No, you didn't!! We had a PLAN! You were supposed to use MY car! Then, we wouldn't have NEEDED gas!" I felt tears threatening. To be fair--I'd called him at 2:30 that morning, from work, and asked if he minded me hanging with some of the work crowd that morning. In doing so, I completely forgot he was going to take my car. And, since that's actually his night time, he didn't care about cars or anything else but the inside of his eyelids. Can't blame him...I'm the same way during the day.

"You had your car," he defended, his eyes finally coming all the way open.


"That doesn't matter! You should have remembered to tell me no!" It makes me cringe to think how I sounded. Even now, hours later, sitting on the very sore bottom that tantrum earned me. Afterwards, he was very sweet, very snuggling, very logical.

"Grace," he said. "We're doing alright. We get paid soon, and we still have money. We can't help it when unexpected expenses come up. You needed to go to the doctor. You couldn't possibly have budgeted for that. And, we can't just not get gas because something comes up. I know you're worried. I know things are going to be tight for a while. I know you aren't used to this, but there are going to be checks where we're not doing anything but making it. And, that's ok. We're in college, trying to pay for a house and everything else. But, we're going to have to work together on this. We won't have a choice. We can't fight against each other, or compete, or throw around who makes more or less money. We're going to need to pull together and make this work. And, we can. We're going to be alright."

Much as I hated to admit it then, I hadn't been unduly spanked. I was perfectly atrocious, and honestly, he probably barely covered the offense. My stress has been working quite hard to shove us apart; I've picked up 4,5,6 shift runs, and will only  see him for several hours a week. And, as he reminded me last night--we're both looking forward to the shift switch. I can't wait to see him most nights. He can't wait to see me most nights, and to have me in the bed when he goes to sleep.

All that to say--I may need reminding later: but, for now, I want to work on completing, not competing.

Hugs and Loves for Emily

Jacked this picture from Susie, not even going to lie.

Heart breaking for Christina and Jim and Emily. Sending my thoughts and prayers and warm feelings and loves to that family!!

I know this has made for a rough fourth of July for them, and I'm praying that things will start looking up in a huge way, starting with today. May little Emily be blessed in every way, and come busting out of that ICU, wanting to know why she just can't have a bear in real life.

Loves.

I Must Have Been Blind

After some of my favorite bloggers went quiet, I guess I opened my eyes and looked around. I'd seen mention of an article, but, since everyone who mentioned seemed to be violently opposed to it, I felt I should just ignore it and move on. After all, for all of our differences and different places and different writing styles, we're a tough little community.

I don't doubt that I have friends here who support me.

I don't doubt that, while he's certainly not always been perfect, I have friends here who support my husband.

Likewise, our journey--both the journey of marriage itself, the journey of relationship itself, and our bumpy road of DD.

I assumed that this article would be blown off with a ferocity. After all, what did it really have to do with us? With our little community that shares its ups and downs and worries and fears and joys?

I underestimated. I didn't realize the extent of damage an article could do. After seeing it churn up the community that I love, I decided to see what it was all about.

I was appalled. Sickened. Disgusted. That woman's lack of research--or her prejudice towards the research she had--was striking. I was furious, upset. I still am.

I couldn't decide if I wanted to go private with my own blog. After all, the immediate, gut reaction is to grab up all the writings of your life, the things that share your struggles, and put your most difficult moments on show, and tuck it away.

After some deliberation, I've decided, at least for the moment, to not respond that way. I completely understand and support the members that have. I, however, feel that, for myself, that would be letting this stranger win over me. There are others who've struggled like I have. Who have been cheated on, and who have used DD as a tool towards working through that and other problems and towards a better and more peaceful marriage. Who want to use DD as a tool towards a stronger relationship. Domestic Harmony, as one of my favorite bloggers put it. And, for them, I want to leave my blog up. I know how much strength and encouragement I derived over the years from reading others' and seeing, "oh, wow, hey, they've been there! Look, they can't hold still, either! Man, her husband made a mistake...but, she forgave him, and they were able to move forward, stronger."

I need to talk to my husband about this whole situation. He's at work, and I've not had a chance to discuss this situation with him. But, I wanted, first and foremost, to say that this is my heart for blogland:

That we would take this like we do any other struggle and prejudice thrown our way and move on stronger.

That we would band together as a community and support one another.

That there would be healing for the hurt and damage this stupid article has done.

I'm not sure whether or not I'll be allowed after talking to Steven to stay public. As always, feel free to shoot me an email.

And, more important than all that stupid article nonsense---

Thinking about Christina and her beautiful family, and sending all good thoughts and encouragement and prayers her way.

Loves!

Oops!

I know that it's awful to laugh when you're in trouble. But, sometimes...sometimes, you just can't help yourself.

The other night, after a rather frisky encounter, we were lying in bed; I rolled over and looked at Steven and asked one of the questions that he rather dreads.

"Did you feed the animals today?" He thumped his head back against the pillow. Now, let me be clear: I normally do it. I don't much like the way he does, and it stresses me out, wondering whether or not my babies got fed. That being said, when I ask him to, I expect it done....but, I still ask, just in case.

"Not yet," he grumbled.

"Not even first breakfast?" I gasped, eyes flying to my phone to check the time. 8:30 pm! "Honey, they're probably starving!" In a t-shirt that hung to my knees and little else, I dashed out to the garage to get the dog food.

But...ya know, that bag was SUPER heavy. I don't mean a little bit, I mean I picked it up and grunted my way out the garage door, trying to get it around to the front yard. Unfortunately, this took me bending over--which I realized in the garage. Not wanting to flash my panties to our new neighbors, I went back inside.

"Honey, you're going to have to do it. The bag's just super heavy, and I need your help. Besides, you were supposed to have fed them today anyway." He groaned. He grumbled. He whined. He told me to take the bowls to the dog food, one at a time.  "Fine, then!" I snapped, finally at my wit's end. "I'll just get it myself!" It was dark, I reasoned. Who was gonna see anyway?

So, I went back to get the dog food and proceeded to drag the bag around towards the porch. Just for reference. Our new house is connected to an off the house garage via a kind of deck that has two layers. Directly in front of the building is nothing but woodlands. Directly behind is a ridiculously steep hill; a trailer with a sweet little old man living in it adorns the top. On either side of our house is another. The deck, however, is blocked by the garage and the house.

I had made it half way to the porch when the door inched open, and Steven stuck his head out. "Hey," he said. "Give me a minute, let me put some clothes on, and I'll come get it. Just come back inside."

"No," I said adamantly. "Look at the boys...they've already seen the food, and they need first AND second breakfast before we go to bed. I'll just take care of it, and you can do it next time. IF you've even fed them the times you've said...this bag is awfully full for you to have fed them the last two days."

He rolled his eyes. "I fed them! Maybe not as much as YOU feed them, but I fed them! Now, come back inside. I'm serious. I'll take care of it. I should have fed them, and I didn't but I will." I glanced at the boys. All three were dancing around in front of the gate, eyes trained on the bright red bag in my hand.

"No. I'll just do it. YOU go back inside. I'LL tend our pets." He growled. Like, actually rumbled down deep in his chest. I fought back a snort. "And, close the door," I instructed. "I don't have jammie bottoms on under this, and with the garage light, the porch light, and the kitchen light all coming through the doors, the whole deck's lit up."

"Grace," he said, irritated, "You're pushing it. I'm serious, you're about to get yourself spanked for not listening. I'm telling you. I'll take care of the dogs. I'm sorry I didn't do it earlier, but I'll get it now. Come back inside."

"No," I shrugged, feeling very matter of fact.

"Grace..."His tone was laden with warning. "If I have to come out there, I'll spank you all the way to the bedroom before we even get started...come inside. Now."

"You can't come out here, you're..." and the door flung open, and he stormed outside. Stark naked. His hands on his hips, fire shooting out of his eyes--under normal circumstances, he might have made quite an imposing picture...but, with all the lights spotlighting the deck, and him buck naked...I felt a traitorous giggle forcing itself up out of my throat...I clapped my hands over my mouth.

"Back inside," he snarled, pointing towards the kitchen door. I lost it. I started laughing and didn't stop until I had been bent over the bed for a hot minute. I quit then...but, I will say, I've teased him about it mercilessly since...and now, even he sees the humor...