ON ENGAGEMENT: AN UPDATE (Part 3)
The Stages of Change?
So right now to me it feels like we are in this Contemplation/Prepartion line straddle place.
Sometimes I feel vomitous. That's my anxiety. I breathe. Back away from the idea that is bugging me. I note that topic area is going to be a vultured one. Circle around closer and closer circles before I can do the thought pounce on the fucker and pin it down and own it.
I'm not going to avoid it. But I can't take that one on board straight on. I cannot walk over to the Thought and think it all out in a direct way. I need to sniff it out a bit. It's not avoiding. It is hunting.
I like to hunt. Sometimes I chase Shiny Thoughts around in my head for pleasure in a meandering way. Sometimes I know what I want to think about and how I'm going to think about it and I know I am not going to have fun thinking it out because it is vomitous. But oh, am I going to have fun
hunting it down and owning it. Because on the meta-level? It IS fun. I like owning my own mind. Even the dark corners.
It's like being a huge Meta Project manager. And the Meta Project consists of many Large Projects inside it.
If at the end of the year it's time to show work to date? I'd be content with WHAT work to date?
Nnnnrgh. I have to ask him now and I have to ask myself. WHAT work to date? The specs please!
See? I'm engaged.
This is hard. Gives me a headache. And it makes me laugh. Because my friend G. told me -- he feels same. Like horrible-wonderful on the one hand. Whee. Other times he sometimes wonders why he bothers with it all. So much work. Such a drag. But then... yeah. The irresistable ding.
He said he could tell me stories to make my hair curl and then stories to make my chest explode. I laughed and agreed. Did we tell the stories? Nope. No need.
Those who need to know, know, Those who don't? Don't.
(That friend is a Jedi Player I'll always wonder about. And that so satisfies. Having a Wonder person is a good thing. You get to run the tongue over the teeth for a good mulling over what iffing of the pleasant kind when you want to daydream.)
But the Jedi Player I've got in DH?
Last night (10/8) there was a small noteworthy shift in this process. I stopped asking "Could you? Would you?"
I asked "Can you? Will you?"
He said yes. I can. I will.
I asked him why, again. Always again. I keep reality testing.
He said because for me? He'd do it. He'd go there.
I said I wasn't interested in him doing things for me. He's overindulgent and spoiling of me and I know it and he knows it. He's a sucker for the kid too. Kid can wrap her daddy around her finger just like mama can.
Of course, I'm pleased, who wouldn't be? But that's not all tiers and all stages of lift off required for this mission.
I asked if he'd do it for HIM.
He said yes.
I asked him if he'd do it for US.
He said yes.
(Ugh. Horrible man. Yay!)
Then I asked -- is this in the best interest of the relationship? He doesn't know yet.
Now I have to sit here and run the tiers on my own end. Would I do for him? For me? For us? Is it in the best interest of the relationship? Listen to the wheels spin. Rummm....rummmm.....rummmm.... And there it comes. The vomitous.
Do WHAT? What shape? What color? Aaaaahhhh! I don't like not knowing-ness!
I always think he's crazy.
He says yes. And he holds to it. He just trusts me generously. So then I have to rise to the expectation of his trust and deal with it -- being trusted.
Mrs Married to Crazy Person Who Wears Heart on Sleeve: He's mad. Lunatic.
And I rise to the expectation of course. Not like I'd behave any less.
But still. He's mad. Lunatic. Ahhhh!
I'd feel a lot better if he'd be more qualifying at me. Something like "Alright. Yes. With terms."
He says that. "Yes. I can. I will. Under the right conditions. YES."
That's why I pester him. I'm pleased to be trusted. I'm pleased to be trusted generously. Implicitly. But I KNOW that job. The married wife job. That job I can do. I also know the job of being a hinge in a trio of dating single free agent independents.
I don't know the job of being married but open hinge-ness. I can't know the job in advance. It's on the job training, dude. Similar job but a whole other load. Sink or swim. High risk for high highs.
Gimme the job desc. I want to apply for the job. But I'm me. I want the conditions! The spec!
It must be had at some point. It must be mapped out and discerned. But don't give it to me right now. I feel vomitous. And that's a vulture one, not a direct line one.
Last night in the dark. Not in his armpit but in his ear? (My comfort level tells are SO obvious if you know them. Inches could mean MILES in my inner universe.)
Me: Can you? Will you?
DH: I can. I will.
Me: Tell me again. You make my toes curl.
Him: (low laugh, nuzzling my head.) No, I don't, darlin'. I make your heart curl.
Me: Ugh. Make my heart curl is RIGHT. Ack. (More! More!)
Him: Are you after soulgasms through your ears?
Me: More! More! Ears! Yay!
Oo. How I love to hear his laugh.
Hang Time at the Forge. The other one.
There's the negative point on life pendulum swing. Where there's just too much yucky. There's the positive hang time at the forge where there's too much yummy.
Us swinging back and forth spinning and weaving double helix thread of Life Shared.
Life keeps flinging waves our way and we take it and surf it just fine.
I fucking love to FLY with that man.