A night to remember

I was a little stoned as I shed my clothes and slid between the sheets. Laying back, I snuggled into my pillow, trying to shrug off the chill of autumn. My nipples brushed against the flannel sheet, and I found myself tracing my fingers in the same fashion. A chill ran down my spine, and I reached for my book. No use, he would be in as soon as coffee was ready for the morning. I smiled to myself, at the simple predictable things that made me happy. I never have to make coffee again since I taught him to do it.

I read my book for about 10 minutes, enough time to get drowsy. When he came to bed, I simply set my book down, turned out my light, and happily snuggled into his embrace. It feels nice to be held once in a while.

I felt his finger trace down my side. Could that just be a twitch? Lips brushed my neck, and I filled with longing. He was taking his sweet time, and the suspense was painfully sweet.

The rest of the details don't need to be written, but suffice to say i wont soon forget that night.

Rambling thoughts

I really dont think other peoples minds are as scattered and vibrant as mine. If they are, I must be a much weaker person. I am bipolar, and I know what to look for regarding that, but I am also medicated. I know, meds dont fix everything. I of all people agree with that, but like I said, I know what is the bipolar and how to respond to it. It seems that every time I sit to write, I can think of a million things to complain about, a million ways my day was "completely ruined" and rarely do I first think of the happy things.

Today for example, I could complain that I had to get up with the kids, even tho I was sick yesterday. I could complain that I did all of the housework that was done today, even tho I still am very achy. I really want to complain that I havent been babied one little bit since Ive been sick.

But even as I reread what is written, I see how petty it all is. If those are the worst aspects of my day, well, Ive had a pretty good day.

I have a lot to say. I want to write often, but I always stop, in fear of what people will think. When I think about it, I have to laugh. One person has a link to my blog, and I know she isnt going to judge my thought. Not after years of being so non judgmental. I havent been overly social lately. With anyone. My bi polar moods sometimes swing so fast, I dont like to have anyone catch the wrath of it. I know it makes my moods spiral to be anti social, I know that even a simple conversation with the check out clerk at the grocery store can boost my mood. I am a people person. I need people. But I fear myself. My mother worded it right. She said to me "I think sometimes I am accidentally inappropriate." That is a perfect way of describing it. Sometimes I am inappropriately angry, over simple silly things that strike a wrong chord. Sometimes I am overly open, spilling more details about certain topics, that other people really didnt need to know. Occasionally I catch myself, think about it, and do it anyways. Not because I dont care about social graces, but because I want the listener to understand EXACTLY what I am trying to convey. I always regret this "quirk" about me showing up.

Today wasnt a great day, but it wasnt a horrible day. It has the potential though. My dear darling husband is due home any minute, and with my mood so precariously balanced on this side of sane, one can never predict how I will feel. Chances are I can make it through the night without causing a fight. Chances are also that I will have hurt feelings before dinner. Perhaps I am too sensitive. Let me rephrase that. I am too sensitive, but I have yet to find a way to dull my emotions any more than they are.

Impossible choices

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am not satisfied with my sex life. Let me clarify. The sex we have is always, without fail, awesome. I can count on one hand the number of times we have had substandard sex in the 9 years we have been together. I'd say thats a pretty good track record. My issue is the frequency. When we first got together, we had sex multiple times a day, despite his 16 hour rotating shiftwork schedule. As time went on, and we married, it slowed down to a normal pace. Several times per week. Nothing to complain about, right?

2 years ago, his desire stopped. I can now count on one hand the number of times we have had sex this year. I feel (do not read "he makes me feel" because I do not believe in that) ashamed of my sexual desires. I believe he truly has no desire. I know he is not cheating on me (he has no time, trust me).

So, what is my impossible choice? I have discovered the cause. He drinks. A lot. 200-400ml of whiskey per night. Thats 7-14 shots per night. Thats ridiculous. I did not see this as a problem because he doesnt drink until the children are in bed. He still gets up and goes to work and makes a living. He is good at his job, regularly getting internal "rewards" from his company for his attention to detail and efficiency. He is a great father, balancing firm discipline (which i lack) and loving fun with them. My mother even said she was wrong about him being too hard on the children the last time she visited. But his one escape, his one happy place that is truly his own, is causing me constant stress and unhappiness.

He doesnt treat me poorly when he drinks. I actually see very little difference in his behavior between sober and drinking (he says he doesnt get drunk...). But I havent had sex in almost 2 months. It is driving me crazy. He says thats I obsess about it, that I should be happy with all the other wonderful things in my life (and I am! I know my life is one to envy...at least i envy it sometimes hehe) But I am a woman....at the beginning of my sexual "peak"....and i can do nothing. (And trust me people, doing it yourself doesnt cut it after a while...)

So what do I choose? Try to take away his happiness? Or live the rest of my days unwillingly chaste?