Roger wanted me to comment on my last post's comments. He also wants to put in his two cents on Cassie. I’ll see if he’s inclined to post on here at some point in the near future; if not, I’ll fill you all in on his views the next time I post.
In my support of Cassie, I am in no way condoning dishonesty. My point of view is this: If readers stop reading her site, simply because they say they’re angry because they were “betrayed,” then I think they’re being a bit dishonest here, too.
If you’re reading her blog because you feel close to Cassie, or feel like you can relate to what she’s going through, then you are getting what the author wanted you to get. I really think that people need to approach ALL online blogs as fiction, until the author can prove otherwise, which I think would be near impossible for him or her to do and remain safe as a blogger.
That includes my blog as well, of course. I’m not saying my work here is fiction, I’m just saying that you never know who is writing what. I could be a 75-year-old man with a house full of cats and a parrot I call “Goobers.” You never know. And I think most of you blog readers are smart enough to weigh that over in your mind whenever you go online. If not, consider yourself warned by me.
Not everyone is as they seem. Even if they are telling the truth in their blogs, I am 100% certain that YOU ARE NOT GETTING THE WHOLE STORY. If you can accept this, then by all means, continue reading the blogs. If you can’t, you need to remember that there are a lot of dishonest people in the world. And most people have computers. The logical leap here is that there will be a lot of dishonest people online. For this and so many other reasons, you should take everything your online “buddies” or “friends” tell you with a grain of salt.
Cassie, or PK, I am still a fan of your blog. I enjoyed reading it, and yes, I was hoping it was all true. The reason for that is that I was hoping Roger and I could grow up to be like you.
I feel that way about a lot of the blogs I follow. So many of you have such insightful things to say, or FUN stuff to do with your husbands, boyfriends or other spankers, that I get to wishing I lived your life sometimes. Usually when Roger is grouchy or I’m in one of my snits or we’re both so overworked and tired we can barely spend time together. But even when I'm wishing I were someone else, I'm wishing I could live that person's life with Roger there beside me. That is why I feel blessed.
Anyway, that’s my two cents. And I hope all of you get to hear from Roger soon. He reads this blog, so maybe you can coax him out of hiding? Though if my nagging doesn’t work, I don’t know what will… ;)
With best wishes and hope that you're all being safe,
Zelda
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
I have a question for you!!!
Maybe you follow other blogs that are of a similar nature, like the ones I've listed under "Links I Love." Could anyone out there tell me what happened to Cassie of Cassie's Space?
I've not been reading my blogs regularly, and really don't have much time these days to catch up, but I thought maybe someone who reads her site also reads mine.
If you know, please let me know. The blog went private when I was out of town then I tried it again yesterday and it was back up again.
Someone fill me in? I always loved that site.
I've not been reading my blogs regularly, and really don't have much time these days to catch up, but I thought maybe someone who reads her site also reads mine.
If you know, please let me know. The blog went private when I was out of town then I tried it again yesterday and it was back up again.
Someone fill me in? I always loved that site.
Spanking tradition
Yes, yes. I know I've been remiss about the blog. All is well, just haven't had time or energy to blog lately. Forgive me.
But I came across something on Wikipedia that I just HAD to share.
As some of you may have gathered, I'm not Christian. I was raised as a Hindu, but a nominal Hindu at best.
With the Lenten season upon us, and with many Catholic and Episcopalian friends, I became curious about the holiday, its traditions and its significance. So I turned to the Internet.
After reading up on Lent, I turned my curiosity to Easter. Yes, I know all about the pretty eggs, but was fascinated to read up on how it is celebrated in other parts of the world. Much like Christmas, which has its own unique flavor wherever it is observed, Easter is as varied as the colors of Spring.
Here's a snippet of what I found out from the
Wikipedia Easter article:
"In the Czech Republic and Slovakia, a tradition of spanking or whipping is carried out on Easter Monday. In the morning, men spank women with a special handmade whip called a pomlázka (in Czech) or korbáč (in Slovak), or, in eastern Moravia and Slovakia, throw cold water on them. The pomlázka/korbáč consists of eight, twelve or even twenty-four withies (willow rods), is usually from half a meter to two meters long and decorated with coloured ribbons at the end. The spanking normally is not painful or intended to cause suffering. A legend says that women should be spanked in order to keep their health and beauty during whole next year.[40]
An additional purpose can be for men to exhibit their attraction to women; unvisited women can even feel offended. Traditionally, the spanked woman gives a coloured egg and sometimes a small amount of money to the man as a sign of her thanks. In some regions the women can get revenge in the afternoon or the following day when they can pour a bucket of cold water on any man."
I wonder how Roger would feel if I poured cold water on him this Easter Sunday???
But I came across something on Wikipedia that I just HAD to share.
As some of you may have gathered, I'm not Christian. I was raised as a Hindu, but a nominal Hindu at best.
With the Lenten season upon us, and with many Catholic and Episcopalian friends, I became curious about the holiday, its traditions and its significance. So I turned to the Internet.
After reading up on Lent, I turned my curiosity to Easter. Yes, I know all about the pretty eggs, but was fascinated to read up on how it is celebrated in other parts of the world. Much like Christmas, which has its own unique flavor wherever it is observed, Easter is as varied as the colors of Spring.
Here's a snippet of what I found out from the
Wikipedia Easter article:
"In the Czech Republic and Slovakia, a tradition of spanking or whipping is carried out on Easter Monday. In the morning, men spank women with a special handmade whip called a pomlázka (in Czech) or korbáč (in Slovak), or, in eastern Moravia and Slovakia, throw cold water on them. The pomlázka/korbáč consists of eight, twelve or even twenty-four withies (willow rods), is usually from half a meter to two meters long and decorated with coloured ribbons at the end. The spanking normally is not painful or intended to cause suffering. A legend says that women should be spanked in order to keep their health and beauty during whole next year.[40]
An additional purpose can be for men to exhibit their attraction to women; unvisited women can even feel offended. Traditionally, the spanked woman gives a coloured egg and sometimes a small amount of money to the man as a sign of her thanks. In some regions the women can get revenge in the afternoon or the following day when they can pour a bucket of cold water on any man."
I wonder how Roger would feel if I poured cold water on him this Easter Sunday???
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
The sting is back
Well, it's back. The spanking pain, that is. The other night, he just used his hand, lightly too, I might add, and I was squirming, trying to avoid the sting. C'est la vie.
I'm thinking it must be hormones. There is no other reason for it to vary from day to day like this. But who knows? All of you think it was due to my head space, but nothing has changed. I'm still not getting disciplined, just spanked. For fun.
One thing that was funny: When he was spanking me with his hand, he put on a gruff voice and tried to make me fear him. But it made me laugh because it sounded like someone reading a fairy tale and doing the voice of the big, bad wolf. But boy did he blow my house in that night!!!
Cheers,
Z.
I'm thinking it must be hormones. There is no other reason for it to vary from day to day like this. But who knows? All of you think it was due to my head space, but nothing has changed. I'm still not getting disciplined, just spanked. For fun.
One thing that was funny: When he was spanking me with his hand, he put on a gruff voice and tried to make me fear him. But it made me laugh because it sounded like someone reading a fairy tale and doing the voice of the big, bad wolf. But boy did he blow my house in that night!!!
Cheers,
Z.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
No more pain!!!
I'm in an odd situation. Spankings don't hurt anymore. Seriously. Roger can whack away all he wants, with various implements, and it's like a walk in the park for me. I've never had this kind of pain tolerance.
OK. I exaggerated a tiny bit. Nothing hurts EXCEPT the back scratcher. That still scorches. And we haven't tried switches lately, so I'm not sure about them. But if I had to bet, I'd say they probably still hurt too.
But why don't the belt, hand or paddle sting anymore? He swung about as hard as he could while still staying safe, and it was like I could feel it a teensy weensy bit, but certainly not enough to even merit an "ouch." And why does the back scratcher still drive me into pleading wails? This is a puzzle.
Hormones? Can't be, since I've been spanked on every day of my cycle in the past and never experienced this. Too much spanking? Not that either, since it's been a bit of a rare event lately. That's right, folks. I've been GOOD! And not just ordinary good, I've been so sickly sweet that Cindy Brady would have mocked my saccharine disposition. So the spankings have all been fun ones, but it's no fun when they don't hurt!!! It feels like he's playing patty cake back there.
And it's not nerve damage either, since I can feel everything is just fine back there. And if it were nerve damage, the back scratcher would at least be a bit less effective. I don't get it.
The only explanation that my non-scientific brain has come up with is that I am in a peaceful place right now: My back is doing well, Roger and I are both mellow and not fighting, plus my mother has been leaving me alone. So, with the psychological distress removed, the physical distress is less distressing. Does that jive with any of you guys? Or am I missing another explanation that is a better fit?
Roger is rather surprised by it as well. He was also surprised that I hid the back scratcher. Will the man never learn? If he uses the back scratcher (which he found hidden under the mattress), I will be reminded of how much that thing smarts. And I will be forced to take action. So it magically disappeared tonight. And I thought I had him foiled, since he couldn't spank me into telling him where it was. But the evil man has figured out another weapon.
He goosed me. For those of you who don't know what goosing is, it's sort of like tickling, but much worse. And he wouldn't stop until I told him where the blasted thing was. Next time, it's going down the garbage disposal. Roger says I'll get an hour's worth of goosing if I break the disposal, so maybe I need to cut it up into tiny little pieces. This is turning into a battle of wits.
But seriously, why doesn't spanking hurt anymore?
OK. I exaggerated a tiny bit. Nothing hurts EXCEPT the back scratcher. That still scorches. And we haven't tried switches lately, so I'm not sure about them. But if I had to bet, I'd say they probably still hurt too.
But why don't the belt, hand or paddle sting anymore? He swung about as hard as he could while still staying safe, and it was like I could feel it a teensy weensy bit, but certainly not enough to even merit an "ouch." And why does the back scratcher still drive me into pleading wails? This is a puzzle.
Hormones? Can't be, since I've been spanked on every day of my cycle in the past and never experienced this. Too much spanking? Not that either, since it's been a bit of a rare event lately. That's right, folks. I've been GOOD! And not just ordinary good, I've been so sickly sweet that Cindy Brady would have mocked my saccharine disposition. So the spankings have all been fun ones, but it's no fun when they don't hurt!!! It feels like he's playing patty cake back there.
And it's not nerve damage either, since I can feel everything is just fine back there. And if it were nerve damage, the back scratcher would at least be a bit less effective. I don't get it.
The only explanation that my non-scientific brain has come up with is that I am in a peaceful place right now: My back is doing well, Roger and I are both mellow and not fighting, plus my mother has been leaving me alone. So, with the psychological distress removed, the physical distress is less distressing. Does that jive with any of you guys? Or am I missing another explanation that is a better fit?
Roger is rather surprised by it as well. He was also surprised that I hid the back scratcher. Will the man never learn? If he uses the back scratcher (which he found hidden under the mattress), I will be reminded of how much that thing smarts. And I will be forced to take action. So it magically disappeared tonight. And I thought I had him foiled, since he couldn't spank me into telling him where it was. But the evil man has figured out another weapon.
He goosed me. For those of you who don't know what goosing is, it's sort of like tickling, but much worse. And he wouldn't stop until I told him where the blasted thing was. Next time, it's going down the garbage disposal. Roger says I'll get an hour's worth of goosing if I break the disposal, so maybe I need to cut it up into tiny little pieces. This is turning into a battle of wits.
But seriously, why doesn't spanking hurt anymore?
Saturday, December 27, 2008
A very good night
We had a very good night last night.
Roger and I had planned to go to the movies, but upon arriving at the theater, there was a line out the door for tickets and we decided to go home and rent a movie instead. We chose "Giant," which we both had seen, but it had been so long and since it's a classic, we didn't mind watching it again. For those of you who haven't seen it, it stars Rock Hudson, Liz Taylor, James Dean and a very young Sal Mineo. I highly recommend it to anyone.
But while watching the movie, we were also able to address issues that have come up between us over the years. There's a scene in the movie where Rock Hudson is discussing politics with his male friends and his wife, Liz Taylor, attempts to join in. The movie takes place in Texas, and Liz's character has come from Maryland, where the culture is very different. She is used to discussing politics, has a strong mind and equally strong opinions and is not afraid to speak them. When her husband tells her that politics is "men's business" and not to trouble her pretty little head about it, she retorts, "you mean my pretty little EMPTY head?" which embarrasses him in front of his buddies.
After a few pointed remarks, she huffs off to bed with the other women, but when Rock comes upstairs, he wakes her and tells her in no uncertain terms that he was ticked off by her behaviour. Roger and I both glanced at each other here. If this were one of "those types" of movies, she would have received a spanking at this point. Sadly, that didn't happen. She apologized for her behaviour, but Rock gets in a huff and puts on his shoes and hat and attempts to leave. Liz's tone changes, becomes softer, and she tells him "Honey, take off your hat and come to bed." Rock makes a few more angry comments, but she eventually talks him back to bed and they make up.
Roger paused the movie at this point and turned to me.
He explained to me how beautifully he thought she handled the situation. Liz did not concede that Rock was right in denying her the right to participate in the political discussion. She did not give up her assertion that Rock was wrong. But she avoided an argument that could have stewed for days by not allowing it to progress to an even bigger fight. Nor did she patronize him or make him feel belittled by her self riteousness. An argument, an especially valid argument, was not allowed to endanger her marriage. And Roger expressed a desire to see us work out our fights in a similar way.
I agree with him. I would love to be able to fight, then drop it and make up before it gets out of control. This is an area in which we need to work. But what touched me was that Roger never said that her position was not valid. He can concede that we both may have legitimate points but that we often spend too much time in asserting how right we are to focus on the important thing, which is to end the argument and make up. I am especially guilty here, since when I think I'm right and have been wronged, I often can't concede that he might have a point as well. In this case, Liz was definitely the one with a more valid gripe, but Rock had been humiliated by his wife's shrewishness in front of his buddies, and that can be emasculating. Roger would never want me to shush and stay out of "men's business," but we have had similar arguments on completely different topics which might have been resolved as easily if I could let go of my desire to beat a dead horse and keep insisting that I was right and he was wrong.
I love that my husband was able to find such an inocuous example to show me how he wished we could fight. Of course, we both would rather not fight at all, but that's a bit unrealistic. If I could find my own way to say, "Honey, take off your hat and come to bed," I think we'd both realize in the morning that the fight really didn't rise to the level of a days-long war that many of our fights often fizzle into. And if I had been in Liz's place, I would have been furious. It's not like it wasn't a real fight, with real marital issues at stake. But it wasn't the type of fight that was worth ending a marriage over, and when you let things escalate, that's often a risk that you take.
Roger also read my blog last night. My last post piqued his curiousity, since when we are in the midst of a fight, I often can't concede his side. But on reading my post, he said that it looked as though I not only saw his side but agreed with it. Why, if I can see his side, won't I concede when we are actually fighting?
The answer to that is that it takes me some time to get over the fight and process my thoughts. I'm not entirely rational when I'm arguing (neither is he, which is probably why we're fighting to begin with!), but once I've calmed down, I can be a bit more impartial and admit to my mistakes. It was nice to be able to talk this over with him, and I feel like this blog has actually helped give him a better idea of where my heart and mind are. We were both calm when we talked it over and we also were able to fully listen to one another, which is something that never happens during a fight. The anger just gets in the way for both of us. For me a bit more than him, I'm afraid. But last night was really, really productive and I feel like we were able to say everything with a good dose of love, which made the tough stuff a bit easier to swallow. The conversation continued into bed, where we lay in each other's arms and continued to express our problems in a very loving way.
We also took a ten-minute break from the movie to stretch and for me to change into my pajamas. He was on his computer when I was done, and I went up to him and told him I needed a spanking. That I was getting "uppity," which is one of the words he teases me with when he wants to give me a "just because" spanking. Know what he said? He told me that I was topping from the bottom and that it wasn't up to me to decide when I got a spanking. I retorted that if I was topping from the bottom, it just proved that I was "uppity" and needed a spanking. He said that he was not inclined to give in to that type of behaviour. You have to understand, all of this was being said with smiles and it actually had a flirting quality to it. Not at all serious. And eventually, I got my spanking.
And it was a real spanking, like I needed. He lectured me throughout, asking me if I planned to continue being "uppity" for the rest of the night. It hurt so badly that I was promising to be good for the rest of my life at this point, but he continued to spank me, asking me if I would do as I was told from now on. "Absolutely," I swore. "If I ask you to do something, are you going to obey me?" "Yes, sir!!!" I shrieked. "Will you obey me right away, or will you take your time about it?" "Right away! Please stop!!!" "Well, I'm not so sure you won't get uppity again, so I think this spanking needs to begin in earnest now, instead of these little love pats I've been giving you." I moaned with dread at this point. He continued spanking a little longer, then asked me the same questions all over again. I gave the same answers, but something in my tone must have convinced him, because this time he let me up.
It was the most disciplinary "just because" spanking I had ever had, and it felt fabulous.
It didn't feel like a spanking he was giving me just to satisfy my need for a spanking, it felt like a REAL spanking, which was just what I needed. Usually "just because" spankings hurt, but there's no lecture, no pleading on my part. If I tell him I've had enough, he usually stops. And the spankings are never so unbearably hard. That usually works for me, but the type of spanking I got last night felt even better. I was punished without having to act up, and punished THOROUGHLY. The lecture adds so much, and being completely out of control also helped. If I had been snarky, disobedient or truly "uppity," he would have handled it the exact same way, and I love that I didn't have to do any of those things to get this result. I've heard of "maintenance spankings" that others practice, but this was the first time I got anything that even resembled a maintenance spanking. With all of the troubles we've been having lately, the last thing on earth I want to do is act up, and this was a way for me to have my disciplinary spanking needs met without harming the progress we've been making in our relationship. Once again, I felt like I have a husband who really "gets" me. He knew exactly what I needed, without my having to ask, and delivered the spanking perfectly.
Have I mentioned before how much I love this man?
Anyway, just wanted to share with all of you. It really was a very good night.
Zelda
Roger and I had planned to go to the movies, but upon arriving at the theater, there was a line out the door for tickets and we decided to go home and rent a movie instead. We chose "Giant," which we both had seen, but it had been so long and since it's a classic, we didn't mind watching it again. For those of you who haven't seen it, it stars Rock Hudson, Liz Taylor, James Dean and a very young Sal Mineo. I highly recommend it to anyone.
But while watching the movie, we were also able to address issues that have come up between us over the years. There's a scene in the movie where Rock Hudson is discussing politics with his male friends and his wife, Liz Taylor, attempts to join in. The movie takes place in Texas, and Liz's character has come from Maryland, where the culture is very different. She is used to discussing politics, has a strong mind and equally strong opinions and is not afraid to speak them. When her husband tells her that politics is "men's business" and not to trouble her pretty little head about it, she retorts, "you mean my pretty little EMPTY head?" which embarrasses him in front of his buddies.
After a few pointed remarks, she huffs off to bed with the other women, but when Rock comes upstairs, he wakes her and tells her in no uncertain terms that he was ticked off by her behaviour. Roger and I both glanced at each other here. If this were one of "those types" of movies, she would have received a spanking at this point. Sadly, that didn't happen. She apologized for her behaviour, but Rock gets in a huff and puts on his shoes and hat and attempts to leave. Liz's tone changes, becomes softer, and she tells him "Honey, take off your hat and come to bed." Rock makes a few more angry comments, but she eventually talks him back to bed and they make up.
Roger paused the movie at this point and turned to me.
He explained to me how beautifully he thought she handled the situation. Liz did not concede that Rock was right in denying her the right to participate in the political discussion. She did not give up her assertion that Rock was wrong. But she avoided an argument that could have stewed for days by not allowing it to progress to an even bigger fight. Nor did she patronize him or make him feel belittled by her self riteousness. An argument, an especially valid argument, was not allowed to endanger her marriage. And Roger expressed a desire to see us work out our fights in a similar way.
I agree with him. I would love to be able to fight, then drop it and make up before it gets out of control. This is an area in which we need to work. But what touched me was that Roger never said that her position was not valid. He can concede that we both may have legitimate points but that we often spend too much time in asserting how right we are to focus on the important thing, which is to end the argument and make up. I am especially guilty here, since when I think I'm right and have been wronged, I often can't concede that he might have a point as well. In this case, Liz was definitely the one with a more valid gripe, but Rock had been humiliated by his wife's shrewishness in front of his buddies, and that can be emasculating. Roger would never want me to shush and stay out of "men's business," but we have had similar arguments on completely different topics which might have been resolved as easily if I could let go of my desire to beat a dead horse and keep insisting that I was right and he was wrong.
I love that my husband was able to find such an inocuous example to show me how he wished we could fight. Of course, we both would rather not fight at all, but that's a bit unrealistic. If I could find my own way to say, "Honey, take off your hat and come to bed," I think we'd both realize in the morning that the fight really didn't rise to the level of a days-long war that many of our fights often fizzle into. And if I had been in Liz's place, I would have been furious. It's not like it wasn't a real fight, with real marital issues at stake. But it wasn't the type of fight that was worth ending a marriage over, and when you let things escalate, that's often a risk that you take.
Roger also read my blog last night. My last post piqued his curiousity, since when we are in the midst of a fight, I often can't concede his side. But on reading my post, he said that it looked as though I not only saw his side but agreed with it. Why, if I can see his side, won't I concede when we are actually fighting?
The answer to that is that it takes me some time to get over the fight and process my thoughts. I'm not entirely rational when I'm arguing (neither is he, which is probably why we're fighting to begin with!), but once I've calmed down, I can be a bit more impartial and admit to my mistakes. It was nice to be able to talk this over with him, and I feel like this blog has actually helped give him a better idea of where my heart and mind are. We were both calm when we talked it over and we also were able to fully listen to one another, which is something that never happens during a fight. The anger just gets in the way for both of us. For me a bit more than him, I'm afraid. But last night was really, really productive and I feel like we were able to say everything with a good dose of love, which made the tough stuff a bit easier to swallow. The conversation continued into bed, where we lay in each other's arms and continued to express our problems in a very loving way.
We also took a ten-minute break from the movie to stretch and for me to change into my pajamas. He was on his computer when I was done, and I went up to him and told him I needed a spanking. That I was getting "uppity," which is one of the words he teases me with when he wants to give me a "just because" spanking. Know what he said? He told me that I was topping from the bottom and that it wasn't up to me to decide when I got a spanking. I retorted that if I was topping from the bottom, it just proved that I was "uppity" and needed a spanking. He said that he was not inclined to give in to that type of behaviour. You have to understand, all of this was being said with smiles and it actually had a flirting quality to it. Not at all serious. And eventually, I got my spanking.
And it was a real spanking, like I needed. He lectured me throughout, asking me if I planned to continue being "uppity" for the rest of the night. It hurt so badly that I was promising to be good for the rest of my life at this point, but he continued to spank me, asking me if I would do as I was told from now on. "Absolutely," I swore. "If I ask you to do something, are you going to obey me?" "Yes, sir!!!" I shrieked. "Will you obey me right away, or will you take your time about it?" "Right away! Please stop!!!" "Well, I'm not so sure you won't get uppity again, so I think this spanking needs to begin in earnest now, instead of these little love pats I've been giving you." I moaned with dread at this point. He continued spanking a little longer, then asked me the same questions all over again. I gave the same answers, but something in my tone must have convinced him, because this time he let me up.
It was the most disciplinary "just because" spanking I had ever had, and it felt fabulous.
It didn't feel like a spanking he was giving me just to satisfy my need for a spanking, it felt like a REAL spanking, which was just what I needed. Usually "just because" spankings hurt, but there's no lecture, no pleading on my part. If I tell him I've had enough, he usually stops. And the spankings are never so unbearably hard. That usually works for me, but the type of spanking I got last night felt even better. I was punished without having to act up, and punished THOROUGHLY. The lecture adds so much, and being completely out of control also helped. If I had been snarky, disobedient or truly "uppity," he would have handled it the exact same way, and I love that I didn't have to do any of those things to get this result. I've heard of "maintenance spankings" that others practice, but this was the first time I got anything that even resembled a maintenance spanking. With all of the troubles we've been having lately, the last thing on earth I want to do is act up, and this was a way for me to have my disciplinary spanking needs met without harming the progress we've been making in our relationship. Once again, I felt like I have a husband who really "gets" me. He knew exactly what I needed, without my having to ask, and delivered the spanking perfectly.
Have I mentioned before how much I love this man?
Anyway, just wanted to share with all of you. It really was a very good night.
Zelda
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Happy holidays!
I want to wish every one of my readers a very happy holiday season and hope all of you are safe, loved and very content.
I just returned from a six-week trip to India, where I rested, healed and recovered from a very difficult time. The trip was very needed and went well, with the exception of the terror attacks and missing Roger intensely. The attacks hit very close to home, since the Taj hotel, which was targeted, was a watering hole for many of my friends and those of my parents. When the terrorists began the siege, we knew that several people we knew were trapped inside, and then slowly learned of three deaths: One from smoke inhalation and the others from being gunned down by the bastards. Needless to say, we were devastated by the deaths of some very dear friends. I grew up in Manhattan, but no one I knew had been hurt on 9/11. This time, they managed to hit closer to home, even though I was thousands of miles from my home.
The Taj hotel was a place where at any time, day or night, I could walk in and find someone I knew within five minutes of being there. This was an especially hard time for me, and it was made even harder by the fact that Roger was not there for me to lean on.
In truth, I've been dreading this post. Not because I dislike blogging: I find writing this blog to be cathartic, but because I've been dreading what I was planning to write. Roger and I have been through a miserable few months, and I wasn't sure if I was going to write about it or not. I decided to go ahead and do it.
We've been fighting, making up and fighting again. The dreaded word, "Divorce," has even come up. We're not thinking of splitting any more, but for a time, it looked like I was going to lose him. And it was all my fault.
It started with a mini crisis over my laptop. I was having difficulty with it and since I need it for work, it was especially worrying to me, since in this economic climate, I didn't want to give my boss any reason at all to let me go. I was unable to do my job for several days, and eventually had to get a new laptop, but in the meantime, I lost my temper with Roger several times. And he had done nothing really wrong: All he was trying to do was help.
The first temper fit resulted in a spanking with a switch and me spending a half hour in the corner. The third one was so vicious that Roger said I was as bad as my parents and that he wasn't sure he could keep taking my abuse. That was when he suggested that we may have to divorce, since he could only take so much. It may sound extreme, but he was justified here. If there was any chance that I was turning into either of my parents, I wouldn't want to be married to me either.
I come from a pretty messed up home. My father is an alcoholic and my mother has both a short fuse and a violent nature. They have money, but are severely lacking in other areas. To give you an example, when my mother lost her temper as we were growing up, the nanny would have to take me and my sisters and lock us in a bedroom so that she wouldn't harm us. I'm not talking about spankings here: When Mom hit us, she would whack away at anything she could get her hands near: faces, ears, arms, legs, whatever. She once broke a wooden hairbrush on my older sister's head.
As a result, we were all damaged in one way or another. I turned out fairly OK for the most part, but my older sister has been anorexic since high school and my younger sister is obese and addicted to pain meds. I was dangerously thin in high school, even lost my period, but have been prettu much all right after years of therapy and Roger's love and support. But I have never witnessed a functional, healthy relationship up close and have a tough time with marriage because of this.
Roger, on the other hand, comes from a warm, tight-knit family. Yes, they have problems - who doesn't? - but his parents were married for nearly 40 years before his dad died and he had always been very close to both of them.
One of the things that surprised me most about his family were the holidays. I never knew that there were families who actually had HAPPY holidays. I thought that the whole "families together at Christmas and happy about it" thing was something that was made up for movies and television and that most people were stressed and miserable when forced to be together at this time of year. Why else would suicide rates spike at this time of year? But Roger's family gets together each year and genuinely looks forward to the holidays.
The year I was 11, my family got into a fight over how to decorate the Christmas tree and it became so out of hand that I actually attempted suicide with my mother's Valium. Every year, when we were forced to be together, it was stressful, spiteful and very upsetting for me and my sisters. Now, as adults, we spend Christmas, Thanksgiving and New Years as far apart from each other as we can, often on several different continents. In fact, this year was the first Thanksgiving I spent with my father since I graduated from high school 14 years ago. It was just the two of us, since my sisters aren't speaking to him or my mother.
My mom was definitely worse than my dad. He basically checked out with the alcohol and is only guilty of being emotionally distant and leaving us alone with an insane woman. She, on the other hand, was emotionally and physically abusive, and that still hasn't stopped. When I call her tomorrow to wish her a merry Christmas, it will be the first time we've spoken in 6 months. I have had to cut her out of my life because I can't take the stress any more, especially when I have real problems to deal with: Like my back pain, surgery and marital difficulties.
Want to know the funny thing? She actually thinks she's a great mother! I don't know if she really believes that or if it's just another one of the many lies she tells, but it always makes me shake my head in disbelief. She will lose her temper, then forget all of the horrible things she said or did, then deny it ever happened. Whenever my sisters and I talk (which isn't often, since we don't like reminders of that time in our lives and we each are living reminders of the war zone that was our childhood), we always are in complete awe of how horrid our mother can be, even now. She lies to each of us about the other, and tries to lower our self esteem by telling us how much better each of our sisters is. I went through most of my life believing that I was the screw-up in the family, that my sisters were better daughters and better people than I could ever hope to be and that my parents were both ashamed of me. This is the love I have known.
Which makes it very hard for me to show love to those around me. Roger feels unloved by me, and I am not sure how to fix that. When I lose my temper, I can hear my mom in my voice and my words echo things she has said to me. Roger says no one has ever talked like that to him in his entire life. And these hurtful words are coming from his wife, the woman who loves him more than anyone else in the world. I hate myself when this happens, and I have tried so hard to change, but when I get stressed, I become a different person, someone I am disgusted by.
DD doesn't work here. Roger feels like DD is something that is so intimate and so filled with love that it is difficult for him to force it on me when I am in a rage. It also feeds my temper sometimes. He does try to do it, and even started with DD in this last conflict, but it gets to a point when it goes beyond that.
We have been struggling with my temper since Day One, and it actually is a lot better than it was. Like my parents, I used to lose it over little things, minutiae. But that hardly ever happens now. But even with real issues, when I'm in a genuine crisis, I don't want to lash out at the one person who is truly on my side in every possible way. Roger is my hero: The man I look up to, my rock. I want to be more like him, especially when it comes to his placid nature, his patience and his goodness. He is the most ethical man I know. It kills me that I treat him like this. I want to stop, but it's a tough thing to overcome.
This temper is most likely in my genes and it also was such an integral part of my formative years, that I've found it very hard to kick the habit, so to speak. Thank god he forgave me this last time, but I'm not sure he'll stick around to keep taking this kind of abuse if I keep doing it. Also, we want kids. If I do this to Roger, who is practically a saint when it comes to patience, imagine what I might do to a child. I know I would never hit my child, but words can last way beyond the pain of a beating. I know that because I can remember every painful detail from my youth. I don't want to be a mother like the one I had. But if I'm still doing this after 8 years of "Roger therapy," there's a chance that it will never fully go away.
I may return to therapy. I know I need it, but something keeps holding me back. I have a therapist and can make an appointment with her whenever I want, but I haven't made the call yet. Writing this post has helped, believe it or not. But this is a hue issue and I know that it will take more than just writing to solve the problem. I am doing my best these days to make Roger feel loved, respected and cherished, but it's not at times like this that I worry about. I worry about the times when my guard is down, months from now, when this last fight is a distant memory. If something stressful, scary or upsetting happens then, will I keep my cool or lose it again? I hope I will have learned my lesson, but I've thought that before and it has happened more times than I would like.
My only consolation is that with my mom, it's a daily thing. Constant abuse. When I do it, especially now, it's a very rare thing. But I wish it didn't happen at all.
I hope you all don't think less of me for sharing this. I think a lot less of myself, reading it on my computer screen and seeing my faults written so plainly in black and white. I know I've mentioned in previous posts that I have a temper, but now all of you know that I'm not talking about a normal temper. I'm deeply ashamed of it and would give anything to rid myself of it. Prayer and therapy seem the most likely ways to fix this, but if any of you have suggestions, I'm all ears.
Again, I wish each of you a very merry Christmas, Hanukkah, New Year's, Kwanzaa, Winter Solstice or whatever holiday you celebrate. And thank you for reading my blog and waiting for me while I sorted out all of my many problems. I feel blessed to have you as my online friends.
Love,
Zelda
I just returned from a six-week trip to India, where I rested, healed and recovered from a very difficult time. The trip was very needed and went well, with the exception of the terror attacks and missing Roger intensely. The attacks hit very close to home, since the Taj hotel, which was targeted, was a watering hole for many of my friends and those of my parents. When the terrorists began the siege, we knew that several people we knew were trapped inside, and then slowly learned of three deaths: One from smoke inhalation and the others from being gunned down by the bastards. Needless to say, we were devastated by the deaths of some very dear friends. I grew up in Manhattan, but no one I knew had been hurt on 9/11. This time, they managed to hit closer to home, even though I was thousands of miles from my home.
The Taj hotel was a place where at any time, day or night, I could walk in and find someone I knew within five minutes of being there. This was an especially hard time for me, and it was made even harder by the fact that Roger was not there for me to lean on.
In truth, I've been dreading this post. Not because I dislike blogging: I find writing this blog to be cathartic, but because I've been dreading what I was planning to write. Roger and I have been through a miserable few months, and I wasn't sure if I was going to write about it or not. I decided to go ahead and do it.
We've been fighting, making up and fighting again. The dreaded word, "Divorce," has even come up. We're not thinking of splitting any more, but for a time, it looked like I was going to lose him. And it was all my fault.
It started with a mini crisis over my laptop. I was having difficulty with it and since I need it for work, it was especially worrying to me, since in this economic climate, I didn't want to give my boss any reason at all to let me go. I was unable to do my job for several days, and eventually had to get a new laptop, but in the meantime, I lost my temper with Roger several times. And he had done nothing really wrong: All he was trying to do was help.
The first temper fit resulted in a spanking with a switch and me spending a half hour in the corner. The third one was so vicious that Roger said I was as bad as my parents and that he wasn't sure he could keep taking my abuse. That was when he suggested that we may have to divorce, since he could only take so much. It may sound extreme, but he was justified here. If there was any chance that I was turning into either of my parents, I wouldn't want to be married to me either.
I come from a pretty messed up home. My father is an alcoholic and my mother has both a short fuse and a violent nature. They have money, but are severely lacking in other areas. To give you an example, when my mother lost her temper as we were growing up, the nanny would have to take me and my sisters and lock us in a bedroom so that she wouldn't harm us. I'm not talking about spankings here: When Mom hit us, she would whack away at anything she could get her hands near: faces, ears, arms, legs, whatever. She once broke a wooden hairbrush on my older sister's head.
As a result, we were all damaged in one way or another. I turned out fairly OK for the most part, but my older sister has been anorexic since high school and my younger sister is obese and addicted to pain meds. I was dangerously thin in high school, even lost my period, but have been prettu much all right after years of therapy and Roger's love and support. But I have never witnessed a functional, healthy relationship up close and have a tough time with marriage because of this.
Roger, on the other hand, comes from a warm, tight-knit family. Yes, they have problems - who doesn't? - but his parents were married for nearly 40 years before his dad died and he had always been very close to both of them.
One of the things that surprised me most about his family were the holidays. I never knew that there were families who actually had HAPPY holidays. I thought that the whole "families together at Christmas and happy about it" thing was something that was made up for movies and television and that most people were stressed and miserable when forced to be together at this time of year. Why else would suicide rates spike at this time of year? But Roger's family gets together each year and genuinely looks forward to the holidays.
The year I was 11, my family got into a fight over how to decorate the Christmas tree and it became so out of hand that I actually attempted suicide with my mother's Valium. Every year, when we were forced to be together, it was stressful, spiteful and very upsetting for me and my sisters. Now, as adults, we spend Christmas, Thanksgiving and New Years as far apart from each other as we can, often on several different continents. In fact, this year was the first Thanksgiving I spent with my father since I graduated from high school 14 years ago. It was just the two of us, since my sisters aren't speaking to him or my mother.
My mom was definitely worse than my dad. He basically checked out with the alcohol and is only guilty of being emotionally distant and leaving us alone with an insane woman. She, on the other hand, was emotionally and physically abusive, and that still hasn't stopped. When I call her tomorrow to wish her a merry Christmas, it will be the first time we've spoken in 6 months. I have had to cut her out of my life because I can't take the stress any more, especially when I have real problems to deal with: Like my back pain, surgery and marital difficulties.
Want to know the funny thing? She actually thinks she's a great mother! I don't know if she really believes that or if it's just another one of the many lies she tells, but it always makes me shake my head in disbelief. She will lose her temper, then forget all of the horrible things she said or did, then deny it ever happened. Whenever my sisters and I talk (which isn't often, since we don't like reminders of that time in our lives and we each are living reminders of the war zone that was our childhood), we always are in complete awe of how horrid our mother can be, even now. She lies to each of us about the other, and tries to lower our self esteem by telling us how much better each of our sisters is. I went through most of my life believing that I was the screw-up in the family, that my sisters were better daughters and better people than I could ever hope to be and that my parents were both ashamed of me. This is the love I have known.
Which makes it very hard for me to show love to those around me. Roger feels unloved by me, and I am not sure how to fix that. When I lose my temper, I can hear my mom in my voice and my words echo things she has said to me. Roger says no one has ever talked like that to him in his entire life. And these hurtful words are coming from his wife, the woman who loves him more than anyone else in the world. I hate myself when this happens, and I have tried so hard to change, but when I get stressed, I become a different person, someone I am disgusted by.
DD doesn't work here. Roger feels like DD is something that is so intimate and so filled with love that it is difficult for him to force it on me when I am in a rage. It also feeds my temper sometimes. He does try to do it, and even started with DD in this last conflict, but it gets to a point when it goes beyond that.
We have been struggling with my temper since Day One, and it actually is a lot better than it was. Like my parents, I used to lose it over little things, minutiae. But that hardly ever happens now. But even with real issues, when I'm in a genuine crisis, I don't want to lash out at the one person who is truly on my side in every possible way. Roger is my hero: The man I look up to, my rock. I want to be more like him, especially when it comes to his placid nature, his patience and his goodness. He is the most ethical man I know. It kills me that I treat him like this. I want to stop, but it's a tough thing to overcome.
This temper is most likely in my genes and it also was such an integral part of my formative years, that I've found it very hard to kick the habit, so to speak. Thank god he forgave me this last time, but I'm not sure he'll stick around to keep taking this kind of abuse if I keep doing it. Also, we want kids. If I do this to Roger, who is practically a saint when it comes to patience, imagine what I might do to a child. I know I would never hit my child, but words can last way beyond the pain of a beating. I know that because I can remember every painful detail from my youth. I don't want to be a mother like the one I had. But if I'm still doing this after 8 years of "Roger therapy," there's a chance that it will never fully go away.
I may return to therapy. I know I need it, but something keeps holding me back. I have a therapist and can make an appointment with her whenever I want, but I haven't made the call yet. Writing this post has helped, believe it or not. But this is a hue issue and I know that it will take more than just writing to solve the problem. I am doing my best these days to make Roger feel loved, respected and cherished, but it's not at times like this that I worry about. I worry about the times when my guard is down, months from now, when this last fight is a distant memory. If something stressful, scary or upsetting happens then, will I keep my cool or lose it again? I hope I will have learned my lesson, but I've thought that before and it has happened more times than I would like.
My only consolation is that with my mom, it's a daily thing. Constant abuse. When I do it, especially now, it's a very rare thing. But I wish it didn't happen at all.
I hope you all don't think less of me for sharing this. I think a lot less of myself, reading it on my computer screen and seeing my faults written so plainly in black and white. I know I've mentioned in previous posts that I have a temper, but now all of you know that I'm not talking about a normal temper. I'm deeply ashamed of it and would give anything to rid myself of it. Prayer and therapy seem the most likely ways to fix this, but if any of you have suggestions, I'm all ears.
Again, I wish each of you a very merry Christmas, Hanukkah, New Year's, Kwanzaa, Winter Solstice or whatever holiday you celebrate. And thank you for reading my blog and waiting for me while I sorted out all of my many problems. I feel blessed to have you as my online friends.
Love,
Zelda
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