Last week I was feeling like I had to build myself a new
world, so lost that I wasn’t sure where I fit in in the universe. It is amazing
what a good no and a good yes can do!
I’m not driving up to my sister’s for Christmas. It seems
like I should be able to do it, but the idea gives me a stomachache. What I
need most in the world is rest, and it seems like this winter break I am going
to get it. Luckily, since modern times are sometimes awesome, it only took one
post on the family facebook page and I was free. Christmas Eve and Day might be
sad without my niece and nephews, it may bring out the divorce grief, but if it
does, I’ll be safe at home where no one will be impatient with my emotions. I
may be gleeful or somber, jolly or sobbing, but no matter what I will be warm
and at home.
I’m glad to have acknowledged that things are different this
year and made taking care of myself the highest priority, even if it means a
lonely couple of days. Plus, I’ve never been to my own church for Christmas, so
I’m looking forward to that. Making the choice to stay home felt amazing, and
I’m proud that whatever else has happened, I’ve made myself a happy place to
live.
In the process of tweet-bragging about my choice, I somehow
accidentally dialed Mr. Sweetface, the rope-top friend who tied me to his wife
a few weeks back. I texted to apologize for the misdial and somehow that led to
him asking me for a playdate on Saturday. I gave him a resounding yes, bought
some lacy new underpants, and was delighted to have visions of spanky snuggles
dancing in my head as the last week of school before Christmas eked loudly by.
The next nice thing that happened was that my mom’s yearly
wreath arrived. I opened it on the porch, not wanting it in my apartment, and
was about to put it on the curb for someone else to find when I had a change of
heart. It was all pearly white, with ribbons that said “hope” “joy” “love” and
“peace.” It was too nice of a wreath and too nice of a gesture. I called and
apologized for our fight, and she apologized too.
I think it’s time to change what I expect from my mom, to
accept her genuine attempts at being loving, even as I distance myself from
confiding in her. She’ll never be the trustable comfort I’ve always wished
she’d be, she’ll never approve of my shenanigans, and it’s time to just let
that be okay.
Sweetie, who happened to be over dropping off the car for
the weekend (We’re sharing the car while I save up for my own. It’s not too
bad.) helped me hang up the wreath and then went home.
Saturday I cleaned the house as much as I could and managed,
for the first time since Sweetie moved out, to do the laundry and groceries by
myself. For some reason, I’d been having a mental block about it—don’t know why
I express grief through chore-aversion, but I’m glad I’m getting past it.
Mr. Sweetface was the first guy I’ve had over since the
apartment became just mine, and the first (spoiler alert) man I’ve had in my
bed since the year 2000. He was such a good choice. Though we both got good and
spanked, it was mostly about warmth and snuggles, getting to know each other
and feeling sleepily festive. He’s the one who helped me string Christmas
lights over my headboard.
The thing about that playdate was, it was so easy. He is a
spa day of a Dom and a sweet boy of a bottom, (So glad god made switches!) an
emotionally generous talker who had me completely at ease. I remarked on my
lack of anxiety or fear but started to think I should make that less
remarkable, to stop being surprised by kindness and just keep letting it come
to me.
There are moments sometimes when things are just working,
when can feel the current that runs beneath things, when I feel life taking me
forward without struggle or worry. Could be the endorphins or the chocolate I
ate while spanking him, but I think it might be Christmas spirit—a new kind of
Christmas, especially for me.
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