If I had made a post every time I came here, signed on, and then stared blankly at the empty box, you’d have had a post e’eryday.
Instead, I closed it and walked away. Because I’ma be fucking graceful if it fucking kills me, god dammit.
I’ve been pretty quiet across all forms of social media lately. In part because I’ve been extremely. fucking. busy. In part, too, because I wasn’t in a good place about all of this.
I’m in a better place. I don’t know that it’s GOOD, but it’s better. Good might come later.
It is entirely different when your kids choose to move away from you than it is when you are moving away from them. Turns out there is no cut off date for mommy guilt. Grown and on their own? Too bad so sad, sucka. Here’s a hefty dose of mommy guilt anyway.
I’ve had a lot of tears. I’ve had a few tantrums. I’ve made one or two pathetic attempts to manipulate him. I’ve threatened, cajoled, begged, pleaded, reasoned, argued, dug in my heels– and I am still moving to Houston.
I’ve had to rehome two cats and one dog and all of the chickens. I’ve had to get rid of a lot (A LOT) of ‘my’ stuff. I’ve had to put the house that I love on the market. I’m losing friends, good friends, friends that I LIKE, and I don’t make friends very easily so this is a big deal.
I’m going to have to say good bye to my kids in 10 days. I will be approximately 1,500 miles away from them.
Not exactly around the corner.
Am was already on her own, and B-man was fast heading that way (though he did have to speed it up a little. Oh what’s that? A second helping of mommy guilt? Gee, thanks.) but again- it’s different. Me leaving them is not the same.
And don’t even get me started on the animals because that’s a sore fucking subject and I’m working on being fucking graceful, for fuck’s sake. All I can say is that I have done as right by them as I could. They aren’t in the shelter, they have good homes. Not *my* home, and therefore not *their* home, but good homes.
Now that I’ve gotten the bitching out of my system (but was it gracefully done, at least?) I can move on to the brighter spots.
To his credit, M has done some very generous things to ease things for me in some areas. I mean, he’s unbending about where we are going, or that we (I) am in fact going, but he’s done some stuff to make it less worrisome for those I’m leaving behind. He didn’t have to, I know he did it for me, and I am truly appreciative of that gesture.
He also has given up as much, if not more, ‘stuff’ than I had to. He didn’t want to hire movers nor did he want to take a huge U-Haul on that 1500 mile trip, so he chose what big items were going, picked out what smaller items he wanted, and let me fill up the rest of the truck with whatever I could fit in there. I could have easily filled another truck though, so I had to be selective.
The amount of stuff we either sold, gave to friends, donated to the salvation army or threw away is staggering. STAGGERING I say. I don’t know where the hell it all came from! And we still filled a truck and I still have stuff left.
Now we get to buy new stuff. Ha.
Anyway, so he’s gone already. He left yesterday, with a moving helper. I was supposed to go with him but… there were extenuating circumstances (how’s that for graceful, huh! Fuckyeah I got this shit.) and I stayed behind for about another 10 days or so.
He wasn’t overly happy about it being this way, and he came pretty close to vetoing the motion. Once he decided that I could stay behind, though, my stress level dropped by about a thousand and ten percent. Of course that decision wasn’t made until like two days ago. Oy.
Anyway, it’s all worked out for the best this way, I think. I get some extra time with the kids, the end of the packing and loading wasn’t too stressful because anything that didn’t fit I can deal with. I can clean better, fill in nail holes, shampoo carpets, etc., etc. The house officially goes on the market as soon as I leave so the better it looks, the faster it will sell, yes? Yes!
There’s really no big dramatic reason for the move. It, surprisingly, has nothing to do with the grandkids. It’s pure coincidence that it’s in the same state, that wasn’t planned at all, but Texas is so big and we’re on opposite sides of the state so it’s really not too much more convenient to see them anyway. Besides, they are now for sure going to Germany, either as early as November or as late as next March, and will be gone for 3 years, so moving there for them would be pointless anyhow.
Long story short, he got fed up with things at his job here, and even I have to admit it was a long time coming and he did everything he could to avoid leaving. But everyone has a limit and he reached his. End of story.
This new job has some pretty decent perks. It’s still a travel position, because that’s what he does. He will always travel. But this one offers some good incentives. I understand why he took it. I really do.
I just wish.. well, you know. “Wish in one hand and shit in the other, see which one fills up first, cunt.” as Master likes to say.
So now can I talk a little bit about the fear?
He has been patiently waiting for this moment for 10-freaking-years. Do you know what we didn’t downsize? The toys. The dildos. The butt plugs. The restraints and the rope and the chains and the pointy things and the multitude of hitty things. Nope, didn’t lose any of that.
Though I did try. I offered to “sort”. I made a small pile of hopeful throw-aways. I noticed later that they hadn’t made it to the garbage. Hmmph.
So he’s been talking. Doing that dirty whisper thing in my ear. Planting the seed. He giggles when I blanch. No, seriously. He giggles. Very undomly.
I’ve been out of the game for a long time. I don’t even know if I WANT back in, you know? I was pretty content being the pampered housewife, I must say. Cunt in a cage? Wat?
So yeah. There’s some serious amount of fear blooming in my belly here recently. Because even though there is still travel with this job, there is a HELL of a lot more time that he’s home. With me. Alone.