Musing Moments 106: A Letter to My Blacksmith


I was supposed to see my blacksmith tonight.

That one sentence holds so much weight for me that I don’t even know how to being forming thoughts to express how I feel.

We haven’t seen each other since the beginning of December. He’s had to work double shifts due to a hiring freeze at his work. He’s been fighting through burn out. My schedule hasn’t helped matters. It’s a complex situation and so while we’ve wanted to spend time together we haven’t been able to.

Finally, though, tonight, we were supposed to.

And yet we didn’t.

I’ve been tapped out at the end of my days. They’re fun, long, intense. Training is going amazingly well. I’m doing outstanding. My brain is a puddle of goo by the time I get home. I haven’t been sleeping as much as I should, my body still adjusting to 4 am and 5 am mornings. I’m exhausted by 5 pm even though I rarely am able to sleep before 11 pm.

I feel like a slacker because I haven’t gone to the gym or dojo since Friday. Almost a week.

Add to that the therapy session I had this afternoon and all of the chores I still needed to get done before our evening together. The lack of time to decompress from any of it…

We decided to reschedule for another evening where I would be more able to fully enjoy our time together and even though I’m grateful for his understanding I hurt. I’m angry. At myself. Because after four months of waiting for everything to work out I cancel.

It’s confusing, the swirls of emotions. Different colors and sensations dancing around, never staying still.

I wish this didn’t feel like a failing on my part. I wish it wasn’t tainted with thoughts of, “If I was adulting better I wouldn’t be so overwhelmed.”

Those thoughts don’t change the fact that I am, though.

I’m overwhelmed. Mostly with worries.

I’m worried about my training. I’m worried about not sleeping enough and being too tired during the day. I’m worried about falling behind. I’m worried about falling short of the expectations I have for myself, of the expectations my trainers have for me. I’m worried about not living up to the image my classmates and friends have of me.

I’m worried about the building anxiety of returning to the dojo. I’m worried about not being able to afford my membership because of finances. I’m worried about having to sacrifice my goals because I let myself get into the same situation I seem to always find myself in.

I’m worried about mistaking giving up with self-preservation. I’m worried that I need to hold on just a bit longer, believe and have faith for just a few more weeks and then things will be better. I’m worried that my past makes me jaded and that I’m not being fair to Warren.

At the same time, I’m worried he’s taking advantage of me or that our friendship doesn’t mean enough for him to not break it. I’m worried about being able to afford rent in October.

I’m worried about my dynamic with Big Bad overshadowing my dynamic with my blacksmith because I do think that is a very real concern.

I’m worried about a lot of things and I know that worry would have spilled over into tonight if my blacksmith and I had met.

I feel all of these worries, all of these wounds, so intensely right now. I’m grateful for the space and understanding to let me deal with them. I’m angry that I needed it. Disappointed even though I’m trying so hard not to be.

Maybe it’s all because I am tired. Maybe sleep will help. Maybe another weekend, one of solitude, will help. Time. Space. Decompression.

I have plans to fix the dojo/gym issue. I have options to explore with the financial issues. All I need is more time in regards to my training to allow my nerves to ease and settle.

But none of that could have happened tonight. Tonight I’m still a stressed mess and I ache because of it.

I’m not failing. I’m not disappointing anyone other than myself and I know that. It’s a sharp, cold pain, though. Icey. Isolating. An ache in my chest, a thin sliver through my heart chakra.

I know I already apologized and expressed my gratitude but I need to pour all of it out on this page, bleed all of it into my keyboard the way I couldn’t do through our text messages.

I’m sorry.

I know you don’t want me to be. I know you said you didn’t mind, but I’m sorry. This wasn’t how I wanted the night to go. I don’t mean to keep us apart for longer. I’m sorry my training started when it did and that the effort of keeping everything together feels like a lot.

I’m sorry I still miss my mom and that I hurt due to my grief.

I’m sorry that normal days still feel heavy and that some mornings I still wake up and wonder what the point of all of it is. I’m sorry that sometimes I’m tired from surviving.

I know you love me and I know I’ll find you through every life and I know this moment in time is temporary. I know it’s not my place to feel ashamed, and yet, the only thing I can feel is sorrow for having in some way failed you.

I will work through these feelings. I will address the worries I have and resolve them. I won’t let them stand in the way of our time together again.

I promise.


Daily Post 002: When You’re An INFJ And You Try to Write A Normal Post…


This is going to be a normal post. No crazy dreams. No life revelations. No anger or depression or anxiety.

Just a normal post about my normal days, which is most likely boring, but right now I’m totally ok with that. I’ve felt a marked difference in myself these past three days since being back in Orlando, and I’m completely content with what I’ve done with my days and the direction I’m headed in.

I had alone time today. Like actual, “the apartment is empty except for me” alone time, and yes, it was as fantastic as it sounds. Like, angels were singing and god rays were shining through the window at the sheer holiness from the act of the apartment door closing behind Warren as he left me in total solitude.

It started last night when Warren asked if he could possibly borrow my car today. He had been communicating with a guy through a subreddit and had a potential interview. Since his truck isn’t all that reliable he wanted to know if he could take my car to make sure he got there and back safely. After talking through the situation I agreed to let him use it.

I’m happy for him. He seems in better spirits, and if he gets the job he’ll be making significantly more, so the chances of me getting paid back increase considerably. There’s also the prospect of him having to move about three hours away for the job, which will alleviate the stress I’ve been feeling over having a roommate.

I feel like I should apologize for my lack of wanting a roommate, but it’s been three days and the trash bag he said he would take out only just now made it’s way to the outside trash. It wouldn’t be hard for me to do it myself, but taking out the trash is one of two chores he agreed to do. The other being to sweep the top landing of the stairs so the hardwood floors don’t look like they’re carpeted due to the dog fur.

I really don’t think it’s wrong of me to stick to my guns and want those two things taken care of when I’m paying for everything in the apartment and doing the rest of the chores. I also don’t think that’s being too much of a neat freak. It’s trash. Take it outside the same day the can gets full. The only reason to not do it in my mind is laziness, which is frustrating and something I really don’t have much patience for.

But yeah, maybe all of that will get fixed on its own. I’m hoping this helps Warren with his apathy. Even if it doesn’t work out maybe it will give him the spark he needs to actually do things with his life again. I know the breakup with Amber is still something that weighs heavily on him, but if you don’t like where you’re at in life than being stagnant isn’t going to improve the situation.

Going back to the “being alone” thing. It was amazing. I knew I had missed it, the feeling of being alone. Since Warren’s been working nights he’s asleep most of the day, but it’s not the same as being legitimately alone. Maybe if our situation was different and he had a job where he left the apartment I wouldn’t be as overjoyed by the three hours as I am, but he works from home. The only time he leaves is to grocery shop, and that’s usually while I’m already out of the house doing something. Sometimes he’ll take Bruno to the dog park, but that hasn’t happened in over a month, most likely two.

I wished him well during his interview and told him to drive safely, because Florida drivers suck, and then I sat on the couch for a while simply breathing in the silence, the total lack of “other”. I don’t know how to describe it other than complete stillness. There’s no one else’s energy. There’s a total peace that I value, that I cherish. A peace that I haven’t had in longer than I care to admit.

I got a bunch of stuff taken care of today. I fixed the internet account login finally. Paid that bill, too, since it was coming due. I got my Target card figured out. I applied for one randomly when I was shopping back in December. I never got the card and I honestly forgot about the bill until I got one right before I left for my trip to Ohio saying my payment was due, by the way, it was late so here’s a $30 charge on top of my original purchase…

Me: Um… can I at least get my card so I can log in online to make the payment? No… oh… ok, then…

I decided to not worry about it until I got back from my trip. Most likely not the most responsible adult decision to make, but nothing burned down because of it, at least as far as I know, so I don’t feel all that bad. I called today and had a fantastic representative help me out. The fee is being waived, I’m getting issued a new card, and I paid the original balance so that’s taken care of as well. It was a mostly painless experience and the service was outstanding. Very glad it got taken care of.

I re-dyed my hair since I never got around to doing that before the trip.

I went to Target and bought a bike lock. I left my old one with Zane’s bike since he was using it to get to and from work after our breakup. Not sure if we had a breakup, but I’m going to use that term because the relationship ended and I don’t know another term to use.

I don’t know what he’s doing now and I really don’t care. I didn’t want to go through the hassle of trying to get the old one back. Instead, I went and got a new one, drove home, then biked to the gym where I had an incredible run. I did a solid four-minute interval. I think my longest one ever was five minutes. I still did really good on all of my other intervals and I wasn’t crazy sore after my run. I biked home, no problem. Hooray, progress.

It was great being on the bike again. It’s the first time I’ve been out since Big Bad drove me home from the park. The day was pretty warm. The sun was out. I had my contacts in so I looked spiffy cool with my sunglasses on.

Right Brain: Yeah… look at me and my bad self.

I still have plans to go either to the dojo or to dance class and then the dojo. I’m not sure which option I’m going to go with yet. I haven’t been to the dance studio since before the Christmas break. It would be nice to go there.

I saw my blacksmith before I left for Ohio. I’m glad I saw him. I’m happy with how our dynamic is developing. I know that’s pretty vague but I’m mostly sure no one wants to read about BDSM stuff and to be honest, I’m still processing through our last session. I guess it doesn’t help that I haven’t had the alone time to really think deeply about it.

Both my blacksmith and Big Bad build me up. They’re positive influences in my life and I’m grateful for both of them. I’m grateful they both are ok with each other and have agreed to not make me choose between them.

I spent the evening with Big Bad Monday. We have plans to see each other Thursday. He offered for me to come over at a later time than usual, which allows me to still make it to the dojo Thursday night, which is another thing that makes me feel warm and cared for when I think of him. He still lets me have my own life and schedule.

Big Bad and I may be going with a group of people to swim with manatees later this month. I really hope that works out. I think we’ll both have a lot of fun if we go. Even if the plans fall through with the group, it might be something we do on our own.

The trip to Ohio had its moments, both good and bad. There were two spats with my step mother. There wasn’t a lot of one on one bonding time with anyone, but I did get to spend a bit of time with my dad. Jon, Dad, and I were able to spend some time with just the three of us. I got to see both my grandmothers. I got to see other family members since it ended up turning into a family reunion sort of a thing. Not what I had originally wanted, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I got to spend some time with my half sisters, and even though we didn’t spend time alone, I think the time we did have gave us a foundation to move forward with.

Since I didn’t get to talk to anyone privately I plan to make mini podcasts for each of them, telling them the things I wish I had been able to say before I left for the airport. I’m not sure how the podcasts will be received, but, since mom’s death, I’ve taken to telling people how I truly feel because I don’t know if I’ll get another chance to say the words I want to. All we have for sure is right now. If we wait to say things we might never be able to say them.

So yeah, I need to get the ball rolling on that before too much time has passed.

I applied for a tutoring position at a local college last night. I ended up remaking my resume, again… The last one I made is geared heavily towards a computer animation position rather than a teaching position. As such I have the layout mimicking a D&D character sheet. I’ve gotten a lot of compliments on it, but I figured it wouldn’t go over so well with the HR department of the school I was applying at.

I like the changes to the layout I made. It’s pretty clean, pretty professional. I’m sure changes could be made, but design-wise I’m pretty content with it. I think I sold myself pretty well, too. We’ll have to wait and see if anything comes of it. I’m hoping so. It’s a part-time job, but with it, I could start looking at working my way into an adjunct professor position, or even see about taking additional classes because I would be staff. It’s something I would ask about in the interview if I get one. Forever a student.

I was proud of myself for unpacking almost as soon as I got home. Even did a load of laundry and had everything dried before I went over to Big Bad’s place. I still need to put the clothes away, but with everything else I’ve been staying on top of I think I’m doing pretty alright in the “adulting” department. At least good enough that I don’t feel like a slacker… yet…

I went grocery shopping Tuesday morning after leaving Big Bad’s. I look forward to the mornings with him almost as much as everything else. I enjoy our cups of coffee together and I enjoy seeing him dressed for work and wishing him a good day as we both leave to go about our lives.

That’s one of the things my blacksmith and I talked about while we were together, the dynamic between Big Bad and myself. My blacksmith asked me if Big Bad is “the One”. I told him I didn’t know. That I was scared to think about things like that. Even typing about it now makes my heart quicken and my breathing become shallow. Not from excitement and joy, but from fear, which I know is sorrowful.

When I think about a relationship I think about Zane and the betrayal I felt when I found out he had brought another girl home while I was taking care of mom. I remember how he said it felt like I was abandoning him. I remember the anger and stress and loneliness I felt before everything with mom started. How before life changed I had already felt like our relationship was dying. I remember him not wanting to give me hugs when I got home from work because I was “gross” from biking home even though the only reason I was biking was so he could use my car to get to his job.

All of those negative events, all of those painful emotions and memories… Those are what I associate with relationships. With “boyfriends”. Zane isn’t the only negative experience, but he’s the most recent.

I know I have deep feelings for Big Bad. Maybe deeper than what he feels for me. I know I don’t want to lose him. I want to spar with him and show him the things I’m learning at the dojo. I want to play Soul Calibur with him. I enjoy the sex and BDSM sessions we have together, and honestly, I want to use terms like mind blowing and amazing, but I also don’t want to gush like a girl so we’ll use mildly detached terms like “enjoy” and try to keep it clinical. I love our mornings. I love the cuddles and how he lets me ramble through my stories. I love it when he smiles at me.

I love, and while I’m sitting here on my own, typing at the computer I’m ok with loving. I don’t feel vulnerable admitting it on this page even though it’s going to go onto the internet and be posted for everyone to see.

I’m not sitting in front of someone being asked, “Is he the One?” And having to admit that, yeah, most likely he is. Yes, I love him and I really don’t see myself with anyone else.

It’s funny how I can be nude, restrained, blindfolded and gagged and feel completely safe, but sitting fully clothed in front of someone being asked a simple question makes me feel as if I’m more vulnerable, weak, and exposed than I have ever been in my life.

I keep thinking about that whole, “say what you want to say,” thing. There’s a lot of things I want to say to Big Bad. If something were to happen to me, or him, I want him to know the impact he’s had on my life, and I want him to know how I feel. I haven’t worked through the pain of my past and the fear of his rejection to actually say anything. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, I keep catching myself before the words are formed, spoken.

I feel one day the words will slip out. One day it will feel so natural, so right, that I won’t think, I’ll just say,  and it won’t be until after that I realize what I’ve done. I don’t know what will happen then. I don’t want anything to change. I like how things are. I want to be honest about how I feel and not have to fight through my past and the wall of fear and anxiety to do it. I’m not looking for marriage or labels. I want to be able to say, “I love you,” and to have it mean exactly that. “I have an intense feeling of deep affection for you.”


Love changes things for most people, though. I’m scared of how things could change. And I’m scared of being hurt again by someone I deeply care for.

People say trust issues, but to the person who was hurt it’s self-preservation.

It’s something further to meditate on. Something further to work through.

… So… Yeah…

Going back to the original train of thought since I wasn’t supposed to get into super deep, touchy-feely stuff. : D

The grocery trip was successful. After I made it home I continued with my productivity by completing all of the cooking for the week. I’m trying a new recipe this week.

Egg Roll Bowls.

They’re super tasty so far. I added bean sprouts and I used napa cabbage instead of regular cabbage. Next time I might add mushrooms. I also stuck with soy sauce since 1) I had it, and 2) Publix didn’t have the coconut aminos even though the website said they did. Lame.

Super satisfied with the recipe, though. It will definitely be something I make again. The dinner meal is chili. For breakfast, I’m doing black rice with a fried egg and fish.

So… that’s about it I think. Still waiting to hear about the reservation for the vacation home for the week-long Disney adventure. My bride’s maid dress should be coming in soon. I hope it still fits when it gets here. Jim said it looks like I’ve lost more weight since the last time he’s seen me. First world problems…

I guess this didn’t stay all that normal with the huge, deep, “I love someone,” confession there in the middle, but there you go. That’s what you get for reading an INFJ blog. Now I’m off to figure out the rest of my night… and maybe, possibly put my clothes away…

Musing Moment 098: What Comes After Fear?


Warren and I had a pretty deep conversation before I left for my trip to South Carolina.

It was dark outside. Night had fallen. I had made it through the day, and it had been a good day but at the moment I was sad. I was sitting on the couch in the living room, alone, lost in my thoughts.

He came downstairs and asked if I was ok. I shook my head no. I’ve gotten better about not lying about being ok. Sometimes I’m not, and now, instead of having to call him and admit to  not being ok, Warren lives with me and we can have these hard conversations in person. It was part of why he moved to be with me. We both have really hard days and we wanted the “in person” support structure that we couldn’t provide while we lived states away.

I reason I wasn’t ok was because I had another realization. Much like when I realized it’s very likely that I’ll live to the age where I will have known Warren longer than I knew my mom. I had a random thought pop into my head while my mind had been wandering earlier in the day and now that it was dark outside and the day was over, now that I was still and able to think it was eating away at me.

I had the realization that I have faced my biggest fear.

My biggest fear used to be financial instability. Being financially independent was what I had used to mark my entrance into adulthood. There was never a moment where I felt like I had gone through a rite of passage. There was never anything to mark the transition of child to adult for me, so I picked my own and that’s what I chose.

By providing for myself, and in some cases for others, I was an adult. I was self-sufficient. Anything that jeopardized my “adultness” was a bad thing.

Then came the day where I found out about mom’s stroke and all of that changed.

I realized how shallow and trivial my fear of “not having money” was. When faced with the reality that mom could have died my greatest fear changed.

It changed to mom not being there. To her dying and having to face the rest of my life without her. It changed  to the thought of losing her.

So… what happens once you have faced your greatest fear and you’re still alive?

Google hasn’t been very helpful with that. I’ve found a lot of Christian / God stuff. A lot of death stuff. A lot of fear stuff.

I haven’t found anything explaining what “should” happen, though. What should I be feeling? And I guess it’s sort of silly to look for things like that. It’s not like the Internet can give me a road map to living my life. I feel whatever it is that I feel. But I don’t know what those feelings are. And I want to know what’s  considered “normal”.

My emotions are confusing. Tangled.

I’m angry. Still. I’m angry that I had to face this fear. I’m angry that it was ever a fear. I’m angry that I faced it so soon. I’m angry that mom isn’t here anymore. As much as I’m moving forward with my life I still stumble over silly, trivial things that shouldn’t hurt but make me feel as if my world will shatter all over again.

It doesn’t. My world stays together, somehow. I still make it to the end of each day and each time I survive a “hard day” I’m the smallest ounce stronger for it.

The firsts are always the hardest. Her first birthday where I couldn’t call her. The first trip back to South Carolina and knowing I would never make another trip “home” to see mom. The reminders like the letter about the court date that I got today in the mail.

There’s pain with all of that. Anger and pain. There’s so much of both sometimes that I still scream in my car. I still cry in fury and I still feel weak and helpless because there wasn’t anything I could do to change the situation.

There still isn’t anything I can do to change it. You can’t change death. It’s part of life. This is all part of the cycle and balance and I get that. I want there to be someone, something, to be mad at, though. I want something to be the focus of my rage, and there isn’t.

It’s life. It’s not unfair. The universe isn’t singling me out or punishing me for my wrong-doings. It’s simply life, and sometimes it sucks.

I guess right now, with having the trip “home” so fresh in my mind, with having the letter sitting next to me, those are the two things I feel the most right now. Anger and hurt.

I don’t feel the feeling of loneliness like I used to. I guess that’s a good thing. I don’t feel the soul-crushing, bone-chilling loneliness that made me question how I was going to get through the night. I understand that I’m not alone and that if I really need help or human contact that I can reach out for it. I know that I can keep going because I have kept going. And so I guess there’s confidence underneath everything.

There’s the foundation of knowing I will be ok because I am ok. I didn’t make it to today on my own. I had a lot of people help me through really, really hard days, and I will always be grateful for their help. For their reassurance. For their patience. For the times they took my phone calls and listened to me fall apart and ask unfair questions like, “How do I keep going?” to which there really isn’t an answer to.

My biggest fear was losing mom. So what happens now that she’s not physically here?

What comes after fear?

Am I supposed to have, find, another fear? Was I supposed to have a list? Like a top 10, and so now that number one is  gone is number two supposed to get  a promotion?

I would say number two would be losing my brothers but to my rational, logical brain that’s a really stupid fear.

Of course I’m going to lose them at some point. We’re all mortal. Everyone dies. Even I will die at some point so what’s the point of fearing it?

Looking at it that way I guess it was really stupid to fear losing mom, too. Maybe that’s something I could go back and tell my younger self. Not to be afraid of life. That everyone is mortal, even mom, and that even when she dies that things will eventually be ok.

I don’t fear car problems.  I don’t fear money issues. I don’t fear rejection. I don’t fear injury.

I don’t really “fear” anything at the moment. At least I don’t think I do. Maybe that’s a lack of imagination on my part. Maybe this is a sign of how “not healed” I am. Maybe I’m still in shock or numb over her death, seven months later.

Fear is a response to perceived danger. It’s a survival mechanism which alters our behavior so we don’t die.

If I don’t fear anything does that mean I don’t perceive anything as a threat? Does that mean I’m more likely to do stupid things because I don’t have a sense of self-preservation?

I don’t think so. I have no desire to do things like drink and drive. I have no desire to really drink because I know that will dehydrate me and leave me with a bitch of a headache in the morning. I don’t think I’m being self-destructive and I don’t think I’m  being reckless in my “fearless” state.  I still make sure there aren’t stupid drivers being thoughtless while I’m biking or crossing an intersection.

I’m not putting myself in harm’s way. At the same time, I’m not wasting energy fearing harm. I’m not fretting over what might, maybe, possibly happen.

It brings me back to the feeling of foundation. It’s like there is a quiet, solid confidence that patiently sits there beneath all of the noise and chaos of the anger and pain. Those emotions are so loud, so volcanic, that most of the time it’s hard to even figure out the why of them.

Why do I feel the anger or sadness? What triggered those emotions within me?

Emotion: Rawr! It doesn’t matter why! Just feel this way because I said so!

Rational Brain: But if you explain why maybe we can find a way to make it better.

Emotion: Screw you! I don’t want to feel better! Rawr!

After the  emotion runs its course and I’m left  exhausted and spent I become aware of a stillness within myself. I’m normally what amounts to feeling like being face down on the floor because I’ve fallen down, again, but I guess that’s what’s reassuring about it.

The ground is always there. I may fall, stumble, trip, crash and burn in a glorious blaze of fire, but no matter what, whatever trial I’m facing always ends with the ground being there, and me, eventually, standing back up and trying again.

So I guess that’s what is past fear for me. There’s solid ground. There’s myself. My true self. There’s the ground that I keep hitting reminding me who I am. Maybe that’s a depressing thought. The thought of falling, over and over again. The thought of impact and the painful implications. The broken bones and injuries that will need time to heal.

But there’s a consistency there that is comforting to me. The floor. The ground. It’s always there.

I’ve been struggling with the terms grief and grieving. Grief is deep sorrow. That’s the definition Google will pull up. But it’s so much more than that. The word grief seems so hollow, so small. Grief is more than just sorrow and sadness and anger, and that was another realization that I had.

Grief is a process. It’s a period of transformation, and transformation is painful. Excruciating even.

I’m not sure if there’s more for me to find from these realizations. Those are two new truths I feel I have found during this chapter of my life, though. I am grieving, transforming, and no matter what, the ground will be there when I fall.

No matter what fear I face, the fall will end and I will stand back up and things will be ok.