… was very personal. ST did not stop to take pictures during it. His focus was singular — taking care of me.
We talked beforehand. I thought I was all cried out, but dammit, I wasn’t. I guess I never am.
He was concerned, very caring, and asked me what I wanted. I said, “I’ll tell you what I don’t want. I don’t want you to handle me with kid gloves.”
“No. I won’t shatter.”
I just wanted to go someplace else for a while. He knew. He took me there.
We did not banter tonight. He did not scold. It wasn’t necessary.
Afterward, I couldn’t move for a long time. He lay on the carpet next to my chair, let me recover. Eventually, I scooted off the chair onto the carpet next to him and put my head on his chest. And there we stayed. I didn’t fix my clothes, I did nothing. Just felt the burn and sting and let my breathing settle back down.
Quite a while later, he got up. I stayed prone on the carpet, and he took a picture then. Of course, I was mostly faded. But I don’t get much more relaxed than this.
I’m not sure how I feel about last night’s blog. Part of me is rather embarrassed by it. Still, I don’t wish to delete it. It was honest.
Thank you for all the supportive comments. Funny how they ran the gamut, with the two polarities ranging from, “Don’t do it, you don’t need it” to “Go for it.” I know cosmetic surgery is a hot button topic, and some people are fiercely against it. Here’s my take: I don’t like it when it’s used as a panacea; when people think it will fix their lives. It won’t. I don’t like it when it’s done to extreme and people are left with freakish frozen masks. I hate the idea of Botox; I just can’t wrap my head around shooting poison into my face.
HOWEVER. Life is not easy, and like it or not, looks do matter. If someone has something or another that is fixable, that would make them feel better, more confident, whatever, if it were addressed, then I’m all for fixing it. If they can afford it, if they are safe about it and do their research, if they had their heads screwed on straight beforehand… more power to them, I say.
But I’m cannot condone paying for things I can’t afford to pay for. No matter how much I want them. I just can’t. So I have to work this out some way, or let it go.
John sent me flowers today. I came home from the gym and found them on my doorstep.
It’s now 24 hours since I wrote my last blog. Nothing has changed in those 24 hours; my situation and my feelings are the same. But thanks to the love of two wonderful men and some supportive friends, I’m at peace with unresolved problems. Those damned nattering negative voices have been stifled.
No matter how sad, scared or crazed I get, I don’t lose sight of what I have. Even through my tears, I’m aware that I’m lucky in so many ways.
So drowsy. I believe I will sleep well tonight.