For those of you who have followed me in the past, I know my regeneration seems to happen on a regular basis, followed closely by a crash, an absence, (short or long), and yet another phoenix-like rebirth. It makes it hard to trust a blogger, when she periodically goes missing, comes back and promises she’ll stay, only to turn around and disappear again. I’m like a very bad girlfriend. And though it probably isn’t fair to use mental illness as an excuse, I’m going to. Between the bi-polar disorder, waxing and waning libido, marital issues, and exhaustion, I just haven’t been a very reliable writer.
So, it’ll take some time to earn your trust back, my dear readers. I know this.
It’s been a rough several years in our household. My marriage has teetered on the brink of divorce more than once. But, we’ve held on, mainly because we love each other more than anything in the world. It doesn’t make it easy to live together. And, believe me, there have been plenty of times when both of us thought it might just be more humane and loving to take our shit and go in opposite directions.
The problem is two-fold. We have a kiddo who really needs two parents (or maybe it’s a matter of us not being capable of parenting this child on our own). And…well…we just can’t seem to let each other go. Maybe what we have could be called co-dependence, but honestly, I think we’re just soul-mates – bound together to ride the wind and waves of whatever hurricane life decides to throw at us.
Eleven years, my friends, is nothing to scoff at. So here we are.
Over time, my story will come together again. Starting over with a blog can be daunting, especially when I am leaving behind a blog that has history, a following, and a particular tale to tell. But, like any good jigsaw puzzle without a picture to follow, I’m sure you will find the corner pieces, assemble the frame, and then fill in the middle.
I want to tell a new narrative this time, and leave behind all the shit. Of course, I’m not dumb enough to believe the “shit” ever really goes away, but I do believe it is possible to write your own story in a way that is authentic and also healing.
Beyond that, what is my purpose here? My goal is to share my messy, beautiful struggle to be in love and lust with the same man forever.
Anyone who’s been in a long-term relationship can back me up here when I say that keeping the spark alive is not always easy. My hope is that maybe, as I find my own feet as a 40-something wife, mom, and professional, my readers will find some nugget of truth that resounds in their own life. Maybe just knowing that someone else is struggling in a similar way will be enough to get you through. Or maybe you’ll just be entertained by my clumsy attempts to simply BE in this marriage (and this life) in a way that does not harm either of us and actually benefits both parties involved.
My former blog, The Lustful Literate, was a jumbled mess of personal experience, fiction, poetry, op-ed, reviews. Much like my life, it was all over the place. I want this site to be something similar but simpler. I want to focus on living an erotic life – which means finding my passion. I also want to keep it positive, highlighting what’s working, questioning what isn’t, learning and sharing what I find out.
But simple and positive doesn’t mean easy. Marriage, for me, has rarely ever felt easy. It has, however, always felt right…and necessary. And there have been lots of happy moments in between the madness. I’ve had loads of plans to “fix” it…to be a “better wife.” But, I’ve never succeeded. Mainly because I’ve never committed everything I have to doing it. I’ve gone about it in pretty much all the wrong ways…most of the time.
Like the good book nerd I am, I’ve read dozens of books. I’ve also watched videos, joined chat rooms and discussion boards. I’ve gone to doctors, taken medications and hormones. I’ve gone to counselors. I’ve gone to homeopathic doctors and acupuncturists and massage therapists. I’ve talked to friends…my mother…myself…my alter ego…my dog. Shit, I’ve even talked to the sky above, while on my knees, hoping for guidance. I’ve had counselors tell me (and us) to let it go and move on. I’ve had doctors tell me to accept that sex is not important in my life, and that Mr. D should either accept that or leave. But mainly, I’ve felt broken…and disappointing. I know he’s hurting because his soul needs are not being met by the one person in the world whom he holds in deepest trust.
But here’s the crux. For all that wishing and asking and hoping for a better marriage…I’ve actually DONE very little. And it’s the action that counts, not the sitting around planning and devising and thinking, and reading, right?
As I sit here, in my super unsexy pajama pants, alone (kid’s asleep and husband’s out of town), drinking a glass of wine, warding off the desire to just spend all night designing this website instead of writing or actually coming up with an action plan, I’m aware of my inclination to get lost in the details.
What it comes down to is this: my husband is a simple man. He feels connected to me through sex. I think this is what it’s like for a lot of men, and probably some women, too. A good sex life gives him everything he needs to be the superman the world expects him to be, because a good sex life, for him, involves much more than sex. Sex is the vehicle, which can take many shapes. Right now, this vehicle is not in the best condition. I don’t desire sex as much as he does, and haven’t for years, so I don’t think about it as often…which means I don’t initiate. This leaves him feeling undervalued and undesirable. Not my intention…but that’s the result. My job is to pull this dusty, dented Volvo of a libido out of the garage and give it – not just a tune up…because that won’t be enough – but a complete overhaul. This baby needs new wheels, a new engine, and a paint job.
However, I don’t have time to wait for the vehicle to be perfect. I gotta roll with the wheels I’ve been given. I might be slow, but he’s been forgiving.