can we talk

guess what i'm doing today.

absolutely nothing.

since the plan was to be in nebraska by this time, this month, raring to go for the family reunion, i'd already swapped shifts with a coworker and put in my hours. i've felt mighty useless, having to take the day off but have to admit ice cream for breakfast and lounging in my pj's til 1 in the afternoon has its perks.

i'm in abit of a mood today. some of it's leftover from our 2 hour therapy session with *ed*. some of it's just me. some of it is dissatisfaction. some sadness thrown in, at rearranged plans. i miss my family.

the david crowder song "all that i can say" is my theme song, here lately.

its been a busy week, topped off by mother nature overstaying her welcome. while i'm thinking about it, can i just say i heart carson kressley possibly with more enthusiasm than is socially acceptable. it is in my personal opinion that lifetime's how to look good naked is one of the finest tv shows every created in the history of the world.

i would carry him in my pocket if i could.

i'm a sucker for analogies and a great quote or one-liner. "Letting go is kind of like monkey bars. You need to let go in order to move forward".

that said, i passed my test. woot! but the momentary joy i experienced when opening the letter, quickly faded with the knowledge that it could be up to yet another year before i can even go.

hurry up and wait . bleh.

all of a sudden, after all our foiled attempts at teaching the value of honesty to our daughter, my child has been injected with truth serum on steroids. unfortunately, it's oozing out of pores i never expected. "mama. i just used way too much toilet paper......ummmm, i acidentally just spanked runtz really hard. like twice......i just want to tell you that i licked that spoon before i put it in the mashed potatoes....."

frank's also finally learned how to jump into the litter box. it was inevitable, i suppose, and would appear his favorite snack is now kitty litter. would anyone like a dog.

i was sitting here in my hot-rollers last night, trying to kinda verbalize what i was really wanting to say around these parts. turns out, there's no easy way to just spill it. why in hot rollers? because for some reason i felt the need to un-frumpify myself for our therapy session. it's corny, but i've always felt prettier, more feminine, when my hair is curly. i've never been one of those versatile women that can pull off any chic hair style or color. damn them. but i feel like i'm at least qualified to attend that beauty race if i spritz some curls.

our first counseling session as a couple was filled with 2 heavy hitting hours of so much*stuff* that i couldn't even begin to delve into here. yet for all that good, the one thing that stood out the most in my mind was just a dumb, ugly little phrase.

right before we left to leave, ed asked me point blank: "why do you think jason loves your body? you're no twiggy. you have breasts and curves." "you've got some weight on you."

ugh. that statement has stuck to me like a heavy breakfast of oatmeal on a humid day.

he trailed off into this story of a woman he'd counseled and her body issues and blah,blah,blah ~ i really wasn't paying attention, because he'd caught me totally off guard. he brought it back around to the statement that jason" loves that i'm not perfect because i'm just right. i'm comfortable. soft. that he wasn't looking for a wife. he was looking for a mom he could have sex with. someone to take care of him. transferrance."

now i know i could be and probably am blowing it entirely out of proportion but the truth is, it kind of wounded me. more so, because it was completely off the subject matter at hand. we'd been discussing the rape and how i feel differently towards men in general, how it relates clear back to my childhood.

the thing is, while i am every womans champion to love yourself, my own battle with body image walks a fine line between love and loathing. often.

its just that, without trying to over-rationalize, i don't even think that issue corresponds with what ed's going for. i don't think i hold onto those extra pounds cuz i "don't want to be desired or don't want to enjoy sex, because i feel like i'm not worthy or don't deserve love". you can go ahead and cue ever cliche you can think of, right about here.

do i love my curves, you betcha. do i adore the extra flab thats hung around since childbirth? no....nope, i don't. but most days, i do just fine, chipping away at getting healthier. most days i kinda like myself. alot of the time, i even think i'm one fine, hot mama.

so i just think it kinda sucks that it ever even entered our conversation. its like going to the doctor for a broken toe but being tested for diabetes.

all of a sudden, i felt exposed. and not a little defeated. i wondered if that's all he had noticed. all he had focused on, during our conversation, that i need to lose a few pounds. he'd obviously noticed i had boobs. kinda hard to hide those suckers. i've sat here and doubted myself and even jasons attraction to me ever since. and i've wondered, entirely too much, what physical impression i leave with the people around me. do you see my heart or do you see the double chin and the flabby mid-section.

after it had sat there and festered for a couple days, i got up the courage to casually ask jason what he thought he'd meant by that. unfortunately, the answer i got from my adoring husband was akin to that one time i'd asked him if he thought it was normal for a period to last longer than 8 days. he thought i was taking it entirely too personally ~ he'd taken it as a suggestion to him that he needed to be careful of my feelings toward my body and sex and intimacy after the rape.

anyway, its bothered me. what can i say. and maybe it was nothing. or maybe it was supposed to bother me. maybe that was his intention. after all, he's a therapist. he's supposed to be intuitive and get you to dig a little deeper. maybe he was trying to push me.

all its really made me feel like is a big fat hippo, tho.

:sigh:

our session last night took a turn down a road i really didn't expect to go down. with my first therapist, she'd been more concerned over me being retraumatized by continuing any form of contact or friendship with candace. her prescription was cold, hard closure. ed, being the pastor he is, feels otherwise. 'gave me an assignment to get in contact with candace. ask her forgiveness for me not being there for her. to show her unconditional love.

can i laugh out loud. please.

i see the goodness in what he's trying to say. i do. and i know it in my heart to be true. but digging out my trusty blunt-edged spoon, just so i can stab away at this wound even more? makes me physically sick to my stomach. i can't see myself holding a conversation after everything she's done and said to me. i can't see myself reaching out. picking up the phone. dropping by. this is where my buddhism by osmosis could kick in aaaaany minute.

ridiculous as it sounds, i got caught up in the whole myspace phenomenon when it started, back in the day. matter of fact, kept a blog there for nearly 3 years. it was a quick and easy way to stay in touch with local friends and not have to put forth any more effort than an instant email. more importantly, however, it was an outlet for my writing. but that all came to a dead halt after the rape. and i can honestly say candace and k are the reason i deleted the entire thing and moved here. after all, how do you maintain letting go and getting on with life, if the person(s) that wounded you so badly are right there in your face.

i'm no saint. certainly no martyr. but i tried so hard. sooooo hard after all this happened, to keep my stuff together. to maintain a friendship, if you can call it that. to try to be the glue to hold us all together and get to healing. and i got slapped in the face. over, and over, and over again.

asking me to become a part of her life again? i don't know if i can do that.

and i wanted him to tell me why, when the rest of them get off scott-free.

ed mentioned softly that God is using me. he reminded me how many times Jesus was slapped in the face, and took it.

but just then? you can call me selfish. but i wasn't so sure i wanted to be used anymore. today, looking at our session objectively, and piece by piece, the painful truth is i do want this to be used for good. i do want joy to come out of so much sorrow. but today, like last night, i'm still very hurt, and that doesn't walk away easily.