Thursday I didn’t post. I had the longest of days. Stress levels going up and down. Stuck in the car for almost 10 hours. My back was screaming arias by the time I got home. Fresh tattoo. I am on lockdown while I heal, but I wanted snuggles so bad that night. Our Lady Sara of Lord messaged and said if she was closer she would come snuggle me. I liked that thought. She has the tininess so I would end being the big spoon, I like being the big spoon.
I had also mentioned not wanting to kick the hornet’s nest that is Wolfling so I was just going to suck it up and hug a pillow.
She was confused. I was too tired to explain.
I’m still tired but here goes.
Wolfling lives close, geographically he should be a first responder for when I have the urge to cuddle. But he is not.
I am unable to ‘need’ him. Just want, sometimes.
I’ve said to him more than once ‘do you even know what the word gentle means?’
The answer a resounding no (growled rather than spoken) with a devilish grin.
He pushes all of my boundaries, buttons and thresholds.
Wolfling gets a free pass. For a few reasons. Who he is, how he is and what he has been through.
And one more thing.
I am tough as fuck, mostly. But I have my moments. The law with him is I have to be able to maintain composure. Always. Unfaltering, unwavering strength.
He’s a pusher. He needs to push and push and tease and taunt and disappear and reappear. It’s just his way. Some days his jabs are downright vicious and I can’t deal. And the idea of admitting I ‘need‘ him would open me up to further torment. I can’t do it. That isn’t his job. I am the adult. I give, I don’t take. My job is to answer when he calls. My patience satisfies him in a way my words can’t.
I get something out of being with Wolfling. It pleases me when he comes back on his own. It satisfies me in a way that words can’t. Freewill is such a beautiful thing to behold.
I have been quit on so many times by people, I cannot, will not do unto others. I have to stay.
In the past this has been problematic. We will get to Sisterwife another day when I am ready to roll around in that muck, she gets her own article. But not today, just to say I was so stubborn about staying in my marriage I let another woman move into my house and sleep with my husband. It was gross and I am deeply ashamed for allowing myself to get that low. The girl I was seems like a stranger to me now.
That girl wouldn’t have been able to handle the ghosting Wolfling or any of these other non-corporeals I have surrounded myself with. Not one bit. Nor the teasing, the waiting, the understanding and forgiving. None of it.
There is another reason Wolfling gets a free pass.
I have gone into my birth defect at great length, but in case this is the first time you are hearing about it I have Poland’s Anomaly. I have had several reconstructive surgeries on my chest as I was born without pectoral muscles on one side and never grew a tit.
During the time of ‘Sisterwife, I got my boobs re-done again, for the 4th time this time with an implant on the other side as well. I struggle with an eating disorder and the up down weight gain plus breastfeeding my kiddo had left my ‘normal’ breast, um…just not good. Sisterwife had fake tits, I wanted them too, so did Ant.
The timing couldn’t have been worse. I was mid very deep depression. I was miserable and as a result I didn’t heal properly. I didn’t believe in miracles and I hated everything ever. I am unhappy with how they look. They are crooked as fuck.
I mentioned this to Wolfling in a moment of weakness, how I am insecure about it and contemplating another surgery. I regretted it the second it fell out of my mouth. I’d let my guard down.
I braced myself for some righteous teasing.
Instead, he took my hand and put it on his side. Said “can you feel that?”
He took my other hand and had me run them down his ribs on both sides simultaneously.
My palms reading the braille of his skin and bones and sinew. Both sides read differently. I hadn’t noticed before.
I hadn’t ever had anyone react that way to me and my deformity. I have heard some horrible shit spew out of ex hubby’s mouth about it. And best case scenario was always an ‘it doesn’t bother me’.
This was so much different.
This is a 23 year old with a horrible penchant for tormenting me taking my vulnerability over something and matching it to his own.
Ya. He is a ghost.
Haunting always seems like a negative word, but it isn’t.
Not all ghosts haunt.
Some keep you company until you can trust the living once more.
I read that yesterday and burst into tears. It’s the truth. Mine anyways.