Life Bit Me When I Bit Off More Than I Can Chew

Well, this is embarrassing. I said I was going to do research into a major subject for my blog and I’ve tried. For the last month or so I’ve spent two to three days a week working on a project that I’ve thought about for a long time. It originally started as a curiosity question on my part, but I soon realized it had the potential to be a blog, so I worked on it with that in mind.

Then the problems hit. With the crazy weather we’ve been having in Seattle, I don’t always sleep well. If I don’t sleep well, I have to fight off a cold or at least the beginning of one, which makes me tired and out to lunch mentally. I’ve learned not to do anything important to me if I’m not up to it mentally, so that slowed me down. I finally figured out how to sleep well no matter what our crazy weather does, but I do wish it’d make up its mind. Either settle into our usual hot days (80’s – 90’s) or the cooler days with high humidity or even rain.

The next problem was a carnival. I live in a part of town that has yearly Jubilee Days about the middle of July. Every year there’s a carnival complete with rides, games, food, and music. Last year it was held at a school across the street from us. We were given the impression then that it was a one-time thing because the park where they normally set up was having some maintenance done. Turns out the maintenance was actually an installation of astro turf, which means the park can no longer host the carnival. That also means that from now on, the carnival will be held across the street from our house. I was so aggravated that I e-mailed the organizers who did what they could about the noise level before suggesting I contact the police. The police told me that the carnival had a permit and there was nothing they could do till late in the day. Somehow on the third or fourth day, my roommate found the manager of the carnival and it turned out to be the same man who was in charge last year. He told me that if I’d come over and talked to him, he’d have moved the speakers, but I can talk to him next year about it. I’ll admit; that was a bit of a “duh” moment. I only wish I’d thought to go looking for him at the start. He’s a nice guy.

Then a friend of mine called and needed help. I was glad to help her as she’s one of the few friends I still have in my life from my younger days. That took more time than I expected, but then as my roommate says, “If a job is ever easier than you expected; tell me how you did it.”

Oh, and this past week, I’ve had headaches a couple of days from grinding my teeth in my sleep; even with a night guard. One day it was so bad, that I decided to make a cup of hot chocolate, which is the only caffeine I can tolerate. I also wanted it be extra rich, so I put more sugar in than normal. The sugar didn’t do what I hoped, but it did make me sick. I literally spent the later part of the day in bed because I was so nauseous. I missed dinner that evening and ended up snacking on salty proteins late in the night – steak jerky, salted cashews, and then some raw cashews. The next morning I was much better, but slightly queasy all day. I’d been dreaming about bacon for breakfast, so I made myself not one, but two bacon and egg sandwiches for breakfast. Normally I only eat bacon at most, once a week and never more than two pieces because of the sodium, but I had a serious craving that morning.

The subject I’ve been researching is not only Biblical, but it’s two sides of one coin - forgiveness and repentance. Add in the fact that there are a few tenses for each word and that means more to look up regarding each part. Present tense (forgive) and past tense (forgiven) for instance.  I’m starting to realize that while it would make for a great blog, I can’t do it in a month, if I ever do write it.

All this made me realize that trying to write a blog about random subjects isn’t as good of an idea as I thought at the start. I’ve read a couple of times that a blog should focus on one subject. One that the writer is passionate about. There are a few things I’m passionate about, but I honestly didn’t think I could write a regular blog about them. I mean I love glassblowing, but I can’t afford to do it right now. Which is too bad, because it would be fun to grow in that skill and share the journey with you. I love my cat, but I’m not going to take a bunch of pictures of one cat and try to make a blog out of her, either. Then I was talking to my roommate recently and I realized that there is something I’m passionate about; have been for most of my life and I could easily write about it. Books!! I love to read! Always have since I first learned what letters are and how they form words, which can be made into stories. So dear reader and followers, this week I will start a new blog about the books I read. I often read two to three books a week, but sometimes I only read one. It really depends on how long the book is and how tired I am at the end of the day as I do most of my reading in bed.

I’ll be up front about my reading and tell you if I didn’t like one and why or if I loved a book and why. Did it keep me up half the night wanting to know what was going to happen next or did I enjoy it enough to finish it, but not enough to stay up late? I used to finish any book I got at the library because I figured I’d chosen it, so I should finish. One day it hit me; life is too short and there are too many good, well written books out there to read something that bores me to death.

So I hope you’ll join me at my new blog, “The Avid Bibliophile.”

Here's a link to my new blog:
https://anavidbibliophile.blogspot.com

My Writing Life

I’m not sure when I realized I wanted to be a writer; I just know that I was in my late 20’s. Up until then all I’d written was the occasional poem as a way to express things I had no other way to express. I’d also kept a journal off and on throughout my life as a way to “empty my mind” onto the page.

I started writing poetry at a young age because of a notice for a poetry contest in our local paper, The Highline Times. I wrote two poems, but didn’t enter either one. To be honest, I was afraid to enter. I didn’t know anything about poetry except that it was short verse and rhymed. I’ve since learned that not all poetry rhymes. I did get to read the winning entry and was glad I hadn’t entered. There was no doubt in my mind about why a poem about a string of pearls won. That did, however inspire in me a desire to write, even if I never thought about publication.

One day I read some of my poetry to a friend of mine and she said, “Oh my gosh, Wynter. You should be published.”

My jaw hit the ground. I’d never considered being published before. To me, writing was simply a way to express myself. Several months later at a get together with this same friend and another mutual friend, they told me I should write a romance novel because of the way I talked. Again, my jaw hit the ground, but an idea was born that day. I wanted to be a writer.

So, I started working on a story. It’s not finished yet because I got to a point where I didn’t know where it was going. It didn’t help that I had ideas coming out of me like sweat on a hot day. I also know now that I was doing a type of writing called “pantsing.” It means to write by “the seat of your pants.” No outlines whatsoever. I hated writing outlines in school because they always felt like a way to put me in a strait jacket with my writing, so I would write up the outline after I wrote the paper (if my teachers knew, they never told me). I know now that writing a school paper without an outline is no big deal. To try to write a full length novel on the other hand, I really need to outline the chapters. Even if I don’t absolutely follow the outline, it will give me a sense of direction for the story.

I started this blog because I read in a writing magazine that for authors to be published these days, they need an online presence beyond their social pages, such as Facebook. I’m not published yet, but when the day comes that someone is interested in publishing something I’ve written, this blog will help to serve as a way to learn about my writing style.

When I first started writing this blog, I also thought it would be easy to come up with 1,000 words a week. I mean columnists do it all the time, so how hard can it be? Besides, I had a ton of things to say about different subjects, such as customer service (https://wfwoodbury.blogspot.com/2015/08/customer-service-in-dry-cleaning-part-i.html) (https://wfwoodbury.blogspot.com/2015/08/dry-cleaning-customer-service-part-ii.html) or ridiculous advertising (https://wfwoodbury.blogspot.com/2015/07/stupid-silly-and-disturbing-advertising.html) among other things. When I finished all the blogs I had ideas for when I started, I had to come up with more ideas. That’s when it got tough. That’s also when I began to realize that columnists who did it probably had more experience at writing than I do.

If you’ve been following my blog or reading it in recent weeks, you’ve seen me share my life story. That was prompted by a group I’m in on Facebook that’s for ladies only. We’d been discussing how we’d been hurt/abused by people in our lives that should have been caring for us, instead. I said something about maybe someday sharing my story in the group about what I’ve been through and people asked. I received permission from the Administrators to do so, which made writing my blog easier for several weeks as I’d already written my story as a book. All I had to do was go in and edit about 1,000 words each week.

When I was finished sharing my life story, I figured I could work on other writing projects three days a week then write a blog in two days a week. Then for the past couple of weeks I had two days to write a new blog. The first one was pretty easy idea wise as I’d made notes about blog ideas while posting my life story. The second one, to some extent felt like I’d recycled an old topic, but with a new twist. (https://wfwoodbury.blogspot.com/2015/06/) I also felt like I could have done better for myself and for you my reader with both blogs.

That’s when I realized that writing a weekly blog may be more than I can handle. That I’m probably better off writing a monthly blog. This would give me more time to come up with a subject and in some cases, do the research necessary. There are topics I’ve wanted to cover, but they require time and research I don’t have if I’m writing a weekly blog and trying to work on other writing projects. I still plan to utilize two days a week for my blog to insure that I can do the research needed for some of my bigger ideas that I've had for quite some time, but haven't really had time to do the digging necessary to do them justice.

So, from now on, I’ll be posting on the first Saturday of each month around 10:00 a.m. I thank you for reading my words and hope you enjoy the ones I write from now on.

Do Christians Bring on Persecution?

I’ve been seeing more and more articles online about Christians being persecuted in other countries. In fact, I just saw one where a Hindu mob drove Christians from their home demanding that they renounce Christ.

https://www.christianpost.com/news/7-christian-families-forced-from-home-as-hindu-mob-demands-they-renounce-christ.html?fbclid=IwAR2e4a7UxTSj_2kuKDC01h5iU1UJUGKAy5Llt2kB2nB1Gpr9uG7z-ELrKIA

Then there’s one about Christian genocide in Nigeria.

https://www.lifesitenews.com/news/christian-persecution-in-nigeria?fbclid=IwAR2HFMnSsSyI4-bBC_9dadQyqZlKNHGDIIzBibepIFMqyecn53PQQ8lrejY

One of the worst has to be “Snitching on Christians in China Now Pays Big Money”

https://churchleaders.com/news/348038-snitching-on-christians-now-pays-big-money-in-china.html?fbclid=IwAR2VxvKTlWI_mxAIWzFYJTgedYmnPrjdefcPEkcNmmkYfBftlboXtaLt5Dg

While these things are heartbreaking, they are part of end time events as foretold in the Bible. Even Jesus said, in Luke 11:49; 21:12, and John 15:20 that his followers would be persecuted. I know there are more scriptures regarding Christians being persecuted for the sake of being Christians, but I don’t want to fill this up with just scriptures.

So, I believe we’re living in end times. Persecution is happening in other countries and will eventually happen in this country. Now, having said that, I also believe that some of us bring that persecution on ourselves. Yes, I think we bring it on ourselves.

Too many of us are pointing at the world and saying “The Bible says you’re going to hell for …” or “The Bible says (insert problem here) is a sin.”

Now I’ll admit a lot of what Christians are claiming as sin is just that by Bible standards. The problem is that we’re overlooking some very important things.

One, we can’t apply Biblical principles/ideology to a world that doesn’t want it and in a lot of cases just plain rejects it. Just as we don’t want them forcing their views on us, we shouldn’t be forcing our views on them.

Remember, God gave everyone free will. That means they all have the right to make choices about their lives and how to live them.

I also had a very wise pastor who said once “that a person who is convinced against their will isn’t really convinced at all.” We need to respect people’s rights to choose how they live; whether we agree with them or not.

Two, in John 3:16 we read, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son so that whomsoever may believe in him should have everlasting life.” KJV*

Too many Christians are spitting hellfire at the world, instead of showing them God’s love. I’ve seen too many articles in the last few years about Christians showing up at events where they didn’t belong and trying to disrupt whatever was happening. In some cases, other groups have shown up to protect the first group’s right to do whatever in peace. We as Christians should never show that kind of disrespect to anyone.

Three, when you spit hellfire at someone, you’re pointing your bony finger at them and judging them based on what you see on the surface. Only God knows why they’re doing what they’re doing in the first place.

Remember when God sent Samuel to Jesse to choose one of his sons to be the next king of Israel in place of Saul’s son? At one point Samuel looked at one of Jesse’s sons and thought to himself, “surely this is the one.”

God spoke to Samuel and said, “Man looks at the outward. I look at the heart.” (paraphrased) I Samuel 16:1-7

In Matthew 7:1 we read, “Judge not, that ye be not judged - . . . Rotherham’s Empasized Bible. I could go on, but if you’ve read the Bible, you probably know the rest or can certainly look it up for yourself. I know that somewhere in the Bible it reads, “… if you do judge, judge righteously.”

I personally believe that “judging righteously” means looking beyond the behavior and asking “why.” Why is that person behaving that way? But even if we tried to do that, we’d fail. Too many of us are looking at others with a beam in our eye. We can’t see clearly till we clean our own house first. By that, I don’t mean be legalistic about living your life before God. I mean go before God and ask for His help. Ask Him what you need to do to have a good, righteous relationship with Him. That’s the start of cleaning our own house.

Four, last but not least, we’re failing to look at ourselves first. We’re failing to look at the sins of the church and to deal with those before we go out into the world. How many articles have you seen online recently about pastors sexually abusing children? In one case I saw, it was his own daughter and because “he was a good man,” he got a light sentence. I don’t know about you, but when I read that my blood boiled with anger. “A good man” would not have sexually abused his own daughter in the first place.

We as a church, as Christians are failing to look at our own lives and our own problems and to deal with those things before we go out into the world. If you really read the Bible, you’ll find that God always cleans His house first, before He tries to deal with the world. Even then, He allows people choices. He gave us free will, so He will not violate that.

When the church as we know it starts worrying more about having a relationship with God more than judging the world, things will change.

Persecution for being a Christian is coming no matter what we do, but let’s not bring it on ourselves with our behavior.

While writing this blog, I did a search on Yahoo to see if I could find any of the articles I mentioned about Christians disrupting events they had no business being at. I typed in “Christians showing hate” and got a list of articles about why we’re hated so much. Is it any wonder people are turning away from God when they have so many reasons to hate His earthly representatives?

Here’s a link to my search:

https://search.yahoo.com/search?p=christians+showing+hate&fr=yfp-t-s&fp=1&toggle=1&cop=mss&ei=UTF-8

One final thought. There was a picture on Facebook recently of a sign in front of a church. I wish I could share it here, but it can’t be copied. However, it read:

“Just love everyone. I’ll sort them out later. – God”

*KJV – King James Version

Job's Wife

If like me, you grew up in a church going house, then you have most likely heard the story of Job. You heard how he was a rich man who was “blameless and upright” before God. You would have also heard how Satan prowled the earth as a lion seeking whom he may devour. That he then went before God and claimed that because God had put a hedge of protection around Job, Job had good reason to walk with God. That if He, God took away that hedge of protection, Job would curse God. Long story short, God removed the hedge of protection one step at a time. First, Job lost his herds of animals. The primary source of his wealth. Then his twelve children were killed by a wind that blew in the house they had all gathered in, which was their custom. Even after the loss of his children, Job didn’t curse God. In fact, he worshipped God instead saying, “Naked came I forth from the womb of my mother and naked must I return thither. . .” Job 1:21 (Rotherham’s Emphasized Bible)

As we read further, we learn that eventually Job was so covered in boils that the only place he could sit was in the ashes. Think about that. He lost everything that made him rich. His land, his animals, and his children and now he’s sitting in the ashes completely covered in boils from head to toe with only a piece of pottery to scrape at his boils. Yet, he never stops praising God. He doesn’t curse Yahweh for any of his losses or the fact that he’s unable to move from the pile of ashes.

Now in Job 2:9 it reads, “Then said his wife unto him, ‘Art thou still holding fast to thine integrity? Curse God and die!’”

I’ve heard this story most of my life and read it in more than one translation for myself. I’ve read the King James, New American Standard, and The Amplified versions of the Bible. Every time I read the above passage, I’ve thought, “Who does she think she is telling Job to ‘curse God and die?’ He’s the one covered from head to toe in boils sitting in the ashes!”

Then I read this story again in the Rotherham’s Emphasized Bible and got a shock. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say I got hit over the head with a brick. In all the years I’ve heard the story of Job or read it, no one wrote anything about why Job’s wife would have said what she said. In Rotherham’s Emphasized Bible there’s a footnote about “. . .the offspring of my womb and my pains for whom I toiled vainly in distress. . .”

That’s when I realized that I’d been judging Job’s wife. Unjustly judging her for years. Job’s children didn’t just spring from his loins alone. They were her children as well as his. His loss was hers. I felt awful. That poor woman. I can’t imagine losing one child, but all of your children all at once? That’s a parent’s worst nightmare.

Then to make matters worse for this poor woman, Job is completely unable to work to support them. Again Rotherham’s footnotes read “I am wandering and serving from place to place and from house to house; longing for such time as the sun shall go in, that I may rest from my wearying toil and from my pains which are wont to seize me now . . .”

This means that after living for who knows how many years with servants to do her bidding, she was now a servant in other’s households to earn enough money to support herself and Job. Then of course after work she’d have to come home and prepare it herself.

Until I read those footnotes, I’d never even considered the possibility that she had as much right to complain as he did. If I’d been in her shoes, I’d have probably grumbled sooner than she did. Like when the children were all killed at once.

After Job’s reply to her, that’s it for her part in the story beyond the fact that they went on to have ten children, seven sons and three daughters again. Even then, she’s not mentioned directly. Just the fact that Job had the children, but you know she’d have carried them for him. I wouldn’t mind knowing more about her, but the Bible is silent beyond their one conversation.

In some respects, I feel sorry for her, but ultimately, I think she was a strong woman. Possibly stronger than she realized till they lost everything. She did what needed to be done with no servants and her husband in the ashes unable to do anything. That makes her a strong woman to me.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 58

One of the nicest things about this situation, is I’m not the only one who’s learned from this situation. When God puts two people together, the way He has with David and I, it’s so both people can learn and grow. I know for a fact that David has learned from me. He’s learned what it means to have an openly affectionate woman in the house that likes to hug and kiss just because I love him. David has also learned to cuddle. Sometimes when we’re sitting on the couch together, he’ll put his arm out and pull me close. I never saw him do such things with his ex-wife, Jan. And as I said before, Jan was something of an iceberg in bed, so he’s learned from me how to cuddle in bed without being any more intimate than that. David had never been with anyone who liked to just cuddle in bed. So, at first, I would quietly slip in and lay there until he realized I was there and put his arm out, so I could lie on his chest. As I kept slipping into his bed early in the morning to cuddle, he came to sense my presence and was ready to cuddle immediately. It’s wonderful to be able to cuddle with someone who has no sexual expectations.

Another thing David learned from me is the need to communicate. Apparently when he was married to Jan, he never told her anything until the last minute. He learned early on, that I don’t appreciate that. I need to be told well ahead of time if he’s not going to be home for dinner. Telling me just before he walks out the door is unacceptable. Now, he lets me know ahead of time, if he’s made any plans that affect me and any dinner plans I might be making. He’s also learned to call me if he’s gone out somewhere at night and will be home later than planned. This doesn’t mean he’s perfect at it, however, if he goofs, he apologizes without me making a fuss.

I also know he’s learned more about what it means to have a supportive wife. Although we are not married, we have to a large extent functioned as a married couple should and bonded together as if we’re a family. We’ve worked together as a team to do various things around the house, such as putting a second hand swing set together for Caleb and talking over what to do with the interior of the house, which has been in a state of perpetual remodel. We’ve even been a team in matters of money, in so far as this is possible.

This also means that David has not given up on a project he’s been trying to do for at least 20 years, ever since he felt God laid it on his heart. There have been times when the lack of any real help and support in his endeavors have caused him to want to give up. He’s gotten tired and discouraged. Every time he’s come to me to tell me this, I’ve let him know I understood. I also let him that if I could be of more help to him, I would. I’ve learned about what a real marriage can and should be like in everyday life.

David has also learned what it’s like to have a somewhat ornery woman around. I have at times picked on him just because I care about him and that’s one way in which I show it. Sometimes he’ll ask me to do something and although I know I’ll do it, I may say something like, “maybe.” My favorite joke on him though got turned against me.

Occasionally I’ll go lay in his bed when I know he’s coming to bed soon just to see what he’ll do. Most of the time he’ll just crawl in beside me. This time however, I varied things. I lay across his bed diagonally under the covers. He knew something was up when he asked me if the door was locked and I didn’t answer him. So, he came into the room and acted like he was going to finish getting ready for bed. He came around to his side of the bed and instead of sitting to take his shoes off; he threw himself on the bed and almost on top of me. We started laughing and talking about it. Then he did get up and finish getting ready for bed as I continued to lie there. When he climbed in, there was no real room for him. He tried pushing me away, but that didn’t work. After a few more minutes of him trying to figure out how to move me, I got up and went to my bed. I’ll admit I didn’t want to move. After all, I was all nice and cozy right where I was and it was cold outside.

As I write this, the work in me isn’t done; it’s simply well on its way. My time here with David will be coming to an end, although I don’t know exactly when.

For me, David is a stepping-stone in the course of my healing. There is going to come a day when someone else will take over, probably my next husband. Although I’ve experienced physical and emotional intimacy with David, I know that I haven’t experienced the fullness of emotional intimacy with him, as I can’t. He and I both realize that I will not be completely open until I can experience such intimacy and that has to wait until I marry again. In the meantime, the emotional intimacy I have experienced with David has been as satisfying as it can be under the circumstances.

There’s more to my life story than I’ve shared in this blog. I’ve been writing a book that contains the whole story (I think) which, I hope to have published someday. My original purpose in sharing this much was to offer hope. Hope for those who need emotional healing from the wounds of the past. It was also in the hope of encouraging others to seek God’s emotional healing for themselves. Therefore, I believe this is a good place to end the story.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 57

As I become healed emotionally, I find myself more desirous of cuddling with David and needing less of the intimate moments with him. I’m also more inclined to give love to David and to try to find ways to spoil him a little during our most intimate moments. He told me more than once that I’ve done things for him, which no one else had. I touched him in ways that no other woman had and done other little things in an effort to show my desire for him and my appreciation of him, which he had never experienced. We always keep things where they belong, in the sense that no matter how much we may want to, we don’t have intercourse. I know that in some ways this has been harder on David than me. I can come away from our physically intimate encounters fairly satisfied, whereas he cannot be completely satisfied as we cannot give ourselves as completely to each other as we wish to sometimes. David is an amazing man in that respect. We can be very intimate with each other without crossing the lines God has set before us. I often wish I could do more for him, but I can’t. The one thing I can do is to only go to him when I am truly in need of physical closeness. As I’ve dealt with my emotional stuff, I find I can tell when what I feel is real need or possibly just brought on by my own hormonal cycles. I also find that I am less needy than when I first moved in as my needs have been met in ways I never thought would happen and the needs I still have are usually met as they happen.

David and I have talked several times about his ability to not cross lines we shouldn’t, even when I am obviously willing to allow it to happen. It comes out of his respect for me as a person and for women in general. More than once David has told me about a movie clip he saw when he was flipping channels one day. He has no idea what the movie was, but he never forgot the scene he saw that day. As he flipped channels he stopped at a scene on a bus. A couple of girls were standing in the aisle for lack of a place to sit. In the seat next to one of the girls sat a man, who slid his hand up her skirt. She screamed, “He touched my holy of holies!”

David says that one scene brought home to him just how sacred that part of a woman is. It deepened his respect for that part of a woman in such a way as to give him a self-control, which few men, if any, have.

As I’ve dealt with the emotional baggage from my past, I’ve finally discovered a sense of self. When you grow up in an environment where you are made to feel everyone is more important than you and you are not allowed or taught to have sense of self, you become unsure of yourself. You may even find yourself trying to fit into whatever mold everyone tells you that you belong in. This in turn creates a lack of confidence in yourself in virtually every area of your life. Gaining a sense of who I really am has been one of the best things that could ever happen to me.

In addition to gaining a sense of self, I am finally beginning to understand self-respect. Abuse of any kind also teaches the victim that they do not deserve respect and therefore a victim of abuse does not learn to respect him or herself. I’ve been told at different times in my life that to respect others, you must first respect yourself. I never understood how to respect myself. As I’ve gained a sense of self, I’ve started to understand self-respect in ways, which were not possible till now.

I’ve also come to have a better understanding of one of the most basic principles of Christianity. For years, I’ve heard about the need as a Christian to die to self, but I never understood it. I always wondered about it and thought it impossible to do. As I’ve gained a sense of self, I’ve come to understand that to die to self; you must first have a sense of self. I know now that when the healing process in me is complete, I will be required of God to die to self. I also know that with my willingness to do so and God’s help; I will finally be able to do so.

The biggest and most difficult thing I’m learning is to forgive myself. Forgive myself for the mistakes in my distant past, such as marrying the wrong man and forgive myself for the mistakes in my immediate past, such as trying to be more physically involved with David than I should be. This is one of the hardest things to learn, as it is too easy to beat myself up for all the mistakes I’ve made in my life.  I have to learn to allow myself the same leniency I allow others when they make mistakes.

I also understand why God chose to use David to help me. David has fought the same battles I have and am still fighting; only he had to do a lot of it without human help. David tells me he came to a place where he wanted emotional healing so bad; he was willing to do virtually anything to get it. There was a woman, Patty, who helped him for a while. However, something went wrong between them and they haven’t spoken to each other for years now. David was for the better part of 10 years, on his own with his battles. I’ll admit I’m thankful I don’t have to do this alone. I couldn’t do this by myself.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 56

Another nice thing is that I discovered that I like to cook. I’ve always liked to bake cookies and cakes, but never really liked to cook on the stove top in order to prepare a meal. Since being here, I’ve learned that cooking for someone you love and who gives you freedom to experiment can be a lot of fun. David has been a very willing “guinea pig” for some of my cooking experiments. When things didn’t turn out well, he never made me feel like I’d wasted anything for trying something new. In fact, he was always gentle about it when I made something that didn’t turn out as well as I’d hoped.

I eat healthier since coming here. I used to buy a lot of frozen entrees and since moving in, I haven’t eaten one of those things. I don’t miss them either. Also, I find that for the most part I’m less likely to eat everything in sight. Not that it hasn’t happened that way a few times. When it did, David gently brought it to my attention and made suggestions on how to cope, such as drinking lots of water. Although that doesn’t always work. Some days I just have to satisfy the craving or go nuts. David didn’t fully understand that at first, but he does now. In fact, at times it amuses him to watch me do so because he knows it means I’m being me.

Another thing is that I don’t crave milk the way I used to. At one time I could go through a gallon and a half of milk in a week, by myself. Now, if David and I go through half a gallon in a week, that’s a lot. This has made me realize just how much my milk cravings were intertwined with my emotional issues.

            Some of the changes that have happened have been in relation to my physical health. My headaches have generally decreased in frequency and severity. Not only that, but my skin seems to have cleared up finally. I used to get really nasty breakouts. Now I almost never get pimples.

            I’ve also realized that there are some people I’ve hurt and need to apologize to. At the time I hurt them, I either didn’t realize that what I was saying was so hurtful or didn’t want to admit to anyone, not even myself that what I’d done was wrong. I’d love to apologize to an ex-boyfriend for the way I treated him, unfortunately I have no idea where he is these days. I’ve tried looking him up on Facebook, but his name is common enough that’s it virtually impossible. I did however, write a note to my brother Mike, apologizing for something I said to him when we were children.

We were having an argument on the front porch one day. I got really angry with him and decided to say something mean and hurtful. I told him he was a bastard because our parents had separated and divorced before his birth. I had no idea at the time that the reality was that he was the result of a one-night stand our mother had while traveling from Idaho to Nevada to meet my father who was living there. Mother told me her divorce didn’t make him a bastard when she found out what I’d said.

Some changes I didn’t know what to make of at first. I started having a sense of “excited anticipation” every time I thought about Dorn. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. While I believe he will come back into my life at some point, I don’t know when. So when this feeling kept happening, I was puzzled. I finally talked to David about it one day. He told me that when a woman truly loves a man, he’s like the 4^th of July to her. Not only that, but in my case these feelings were truly coming to life in me for the first time, like a new flower coming up in the garden. This is a bit scary, as when Dorn does come back in my life, I will have to sit on these feelings until I know what will happen between us. That won’t be easy.

Another non-physical change has been in regards to a couple of besetting sins in my life. Because of the sexual abuse I went through, I was very promiscuous in my teen years. In addition to that I fought with masturbation for years. I prayed about these issues and asked God for help to keep from engaging in these activities, yet I repeatedly did anyway. It wasn’t until God used David to heal my heart that these problems came to an end. It’s been amazing to realize that these sins were tied up in my emotional issues and real deliverance from those sins happened as my heart was healed.

Some things about me haven’t changed. I still love a good rich cup of cocoa. Ice cream is still a favorite treat, although I now have to buy non-dairy ice cream, as is eating raw cookie dough, especially chocolate chip dough. I still admire Harley-Davidson motorcycles when I see one.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 55

The best thing is the changes that have happened in me. As I’ve learned who I am, I’ve become more self-confident. I’m more confident in the choices I make as a parent and for myself personally. There have been times when I’ve bought skirts or pants or even two piece outfits because my mother insisted I had to have them. I even tried telling her that I would prefer basic colors such as navy or black for ease of dressing, but she insisted that I just had to have the print skirt/pants and outfits, even though in one case I only wanted the top. Looking back on this, I think she may have wanted them for herself, but couldn’t afford them. So, if I bought them, she could at least enjoy them vicariously. Now I follow my own inclinations in clothing. I wear what I want without hers or anyone else’s influence.

I’ve discovered that while I still like dresses of all lengths, I want my shorter ones to have straight skirts and the longer ones can be straight or fuller, but not too full. I’m also not afraid to enhance what I have with my clothes and that on occasion, it’s okay to wear something, which tends to be a little revealing, but still leaves more to the imagination than it shows.

Even now, I find my tastes changing. For years when I bought new jeans, I would buy two pairs of black ones and two pairs of blue. To me, the black ones were a bit dressier.  Now I’d rather just have blues ones. Then I don’t have to worry about what shirt I’ll be wearing. With blue jeans, I can wear a navy colored shirt, whereas with black ones I can’t. Not to mention I don’t like wearing purple with black. Makes me feel like a walking bruise.

I also like clothes I don’t need to fuss with.  I want to put them on and go.

I’ve gone back to the kind of jewelry I wore when I was younger. I always had a preference for smaller earrings. As some of my college classmates could tell you, I had earrings that hung down to my shoulders. When I was younger, I wore big earrings on occasion, but always had a preference for small, delicate earrings. It was with the encouragement of a woman whose fashion sense I respected that I started wearing really long earrings. I re-discovered that I still prefer smaller earrings. If I do wear larger earrings, they generally don’t hang past my jaw line.

In recent years, I had cut my hair short; so short at times that if I hadn’t been as well built as I am, I could have easily been mistaken for a man. In fact, one night I was mistaken for a man.

 In the course of pursuing my paralegal degree, I took a class in legal investigation. One of the assignments for this class was to do a ride along with a police officer and write a report on the experience. At one point during the ride along, a man was put in the back of the car with cuffs on. A minute later, he said, “Sir? Excuse me, sir.”

 He must have spoken at least half a dozen times before I realized he was talking to me. I quickly set him straight about my gender and the fact that I couldn’t do anything for him.

Shortly after I moved into David’s house, I decided to allow my hair to grow out. Just over a year later, my hair went from being short layers at the top of my ears and the top of the back of my neck to just about my shoulders. I never had the patience to allow my hair to get any longer than shoulder length before cutting it. This time I let it grow as long as possible. It took about four years, but it got down to around my hips when I decided I’d had enough. I was having to pull the hair up as I combed down to insure it all got combed. Not to mention having to constantly tie it back to keep it out of whatever I was doing.

I’ve come to realize that while makeup is nice when I dress up to go out, I don’t really care to wear it daily. I have better things to do with my time and energy than stare at my face while applying foundation, eye makeup, etc. When I did wear makeup while working, I wore dark, dramatic colors. If I were to wear makeup now, I’d choose more natural colors for my skin tone.

The other major change in me is connected to my overall possessions. When I first moved into David’s house, my stuff filled his basement, took space in the attic and I still had about a dozen or so boxes stacked in the living room and more under my bed. This was just my personal stuff. I only had a couple of boxes for Caleb and that was mostly clothing that had been given to me for him. Sometime after moving in, I went through everything I owned and sorted it out according to what I wanted to keep and what I wanted to get rid of. The stuff I wanted to get rid of I would haul to the swap meet in my car and sell. When I got done sorting, I realized I needed a pickup truck to haul everything to the swap meet. I couldn’t believe it. I had gone through all my stuff a few years before and a friend of mine had taken my stuff and me to the swap meet in his little pick up. But how in heaven’s name had I managed to keep so much and acquire so much more that I needed a pickup truck again? I’d been trying for years to unclutter my life, so this was quite a surprise. Some of the stuff I could tell you exactly why I had it in the first place and why I had hung onto it. Some of it though was like, where did this come from and why in the world did I keep it?

A couple of years after taking stuff to the swap meet, I went through my stuff again. This time I organized it and made inventory lists of everything stored in the basement. I still found a couple of boxes of stuff to get rid of.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 54

I don’t fully know how to explain this, but when a woman becomes intimate with a man, she can sense how he really feels about her and just how safe she is with him, whether she realizes it consciously or not. From the start of our intimacy, I knew at some level that I was loved, cherished, respected and safe with him, even though it took me a while to realize that consciously. Knowing those things had a lot to do with my ability to trust him enough to become fully open about the emotional pain and junk in my life.

Now, I don’t want to give anyone the idea that our relationship has been trouble free. Believe me, it hasn’t. We’ve had arguments and a couple of times we’ve yelled at each other. But, we worked through the problems and are better off for it. The key here though, is that we were both willing to work through the problems and forgive each other.

The one really big argument we had occurred on a night when David went out with a friend, Karen. I had told him before he went out that I needed him that night. He told me he’d be home by a specific time and we would be able to spend some time together then. I had a feeling before David walked out the door that he wouldn’t be home at the time he said. He was originally supposed to just take her out for coffee, but Karen called him at the last minute and asked if he’d mind taking her to a shelter where some people she knew held a service and they might need her to play the piano.

When David didn’t come home within 15 or 20 minutes of the time he said he’d be home, I tried to call him on his cell phone. When he didn’t answer, I started to get upset. By the time David got home, over an hour after he said he would, I was furious. I waited up for him in his bedroom and confronted him the instant he walked in. David tried to explain, but I was too angry to really listen. Finally he told me that if I was so needy I couldn’t wait, then I might as well walk out the door and not come back. As a man, he could not handle that kind of neediness on a regular basis. That’s when I told him that I had been sitting on my needs for a few days because every time I’d thought we were going to have time together, something interfered. He understood and I finally calmed down enough to be reasonable about the situation. Since that night, I have not allowed things to interfere with getting my needs met, unless I truly have no choice. I also learned to express my needs to David, even when we couldn’t be together for some reason. I learned to tell him what I’m feeling and to express my emotions. This all helped prevent the kind of buildup of emotional need, which fueled our biggest argument.

There have also been times when we’ve argued because no matter how hard we tried, we seemed to be misunderstanding one another.

Sometimes David chewed me out for things I should be doing. For instance, I never asked him to pray for me when I had a headache. Given that God had not healed me when people prayed for me before about my headaches; I never thought to ask David. I do now.

A lot has happened since the day I decided to move into David’s house. I’ve changed and in the process, I also learned about living with a man who knows who he is and is capable of being the man of the house; not a wimp who can’t stand on his own two feet, much less be a tower of strength for a spouse. I learned that even that kind of man has his own set of pressures and weaknesses, which means there are times when he needs someone to lean on, but this isn’t an all the time thing. I learned the reality of the line in the Wedding Song, which states “woman draws her strength from man and gives it back again.” For that is one that has been happening for me since I moved in. It’s been difficult at times, but it’s also been wonderful.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 53

One of the most continually amazing things to me about living with David is our physical relationship. The wonderful thing is how much it has helped me to be with someone who is more concerned about me and my needs, even though his are not completely fulfilled. David and I can be physically intimate, but not have sex and my need for intimacy is met. He never expects me to fulfill his needs or desires. Not that he isn’t tempted and not that I haven’t offered, there are times when we both would have liked nothing better, but we know it isn’t right so we’re careful about how far we go, David more so than me. My experience with men has been that they want their needs and desires fulfilled, period. They may try to fulfill mine, but they are always concerned with theirs.

One man in particular, Randy, got upset with me one night when I was too tired to have sex with him. We’d had sex that morning, even though I had a bad headache and by the end of the day I was exhausted. So much so that the mere thought of having sex was tiring. After I refused, he thought about it for a while and finally realized that I’d given all I had to give that morning. He apologized, but it still hurt. That wasn’t the first time he’d insisted on having sex when I was too tired. That was simply the one time I truly put my foot down and said, “No, I really am too tired.”

David is the exception to the rule when it comes to his needs and desires. He is almost always there for me when I need him. If something makes it impossible for him to be there, we talk about it. It’s also surprising to me just how important our intimacy is to me. The intimacy that happens between us is more than a physical thing; it is an expression of my emotional state. It almost always happens as something new in me opens up and becomes free. Being intimate with David means being free to be me and express myself in ways I’ve never been allowed to. If that means I need to lay in his arms and cry, then I lay in his arms and cry. If I need to be physically intimate, then we’re physically intimate except for having sex. By giving me the emotional freedom to be me, David unlocked the door to my real self, which had been locked up for way too many years. I used to wonder if I would ever find out what was really under all the emotional junk I’d gotten buried under.

I’ve also learned that just cuddling with David can make me want to be more intimate with him. There have been times when I’ve gone into his room and laid next to him in bed, solely for the comfort of cuddling. As I lay there with him, I will feel my desire flare up. It surprised me the first couple of times it happened as I wasn’t expecting to feel that way.

Another interesting thing to me is that as I’ve opened up and allowed all my emotional stuff to come to the surface and be expressed (even when I don’t understand it or know what it is), I’ve become less needy. This means I don’t have such a strong need or desire to cuddle or be so intimate with David because for the first time in my life, a lot of those needs are being met. Not that the physical side our relationship is any less important: I still want and need to be hugged and kissed on a regular basis, it’s just that I don’t need as much of the more intimate type of touch.

Another thing about being intimate with David is that we almost always talk afterwards and sometimes during our intimacy, about what being intimate does for a woman and how it affects her overall. It was during one of these discussions that I fully realized that Dennis, the young man I had once had a crush on, had raped me as child. For years, I thought that because I gave in to him, I had “consented” to having sex with him, even though I felt pressured and didn’t really want to. David and I were lying side by side on his bed one afternoon talking after being intimate, and he asked me an interesting question. He asked what it was like for a woman to freely give herself to a man for the first time. I started to cry because it was then that I realized I had never been allowed to freely make that choice. David just held me and let me cry it out. I will someday know what it means to give myself freely without reservation both physically and emotionally to my next husband, but unfortunately, the first time I gave myself physically I didn’t make the choice freely.  

Often the talks David and I have during and after our intimate moments open up whatever area is on the surface at the moment. More than once David would say something, which would set off a chain reaction in me that opened something up. He also frequently talked about how different women would be towards their husbands and life in general if they were as satisfied with their relationships as I am with David. Another time he asked me what I thought I would have been like if I’d known I was so easy to please. The first thought which went through my head was, “I would have become a nympho.”

This led to the realization that I would probably have had sex with even more men and been used by them in the process therefore piling on even more hurt. I started crying. David quickly realized what was happening and just held me. He has never made me feel like I can’t cry immediately after being intimate with him or even during. If I start to cry, we stop and he lets me cry. Often in those instances, we continue our intimacy at another time.

The intimacy David and I shared gave me an environment in which I felt loved, respected and most of all safe in ways I had never experienced before. Not knowing who I am made me uncomfortable in virtually any social situation and as a result, I never felt truly safe with anyone, till I moved in with him.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 52

Even now, situations arise in which my mother somehow puts a new hurt on top of the old festering wounds she has already inflicted. I saw a notice at church regarding a women’s retreat to be held at the end of March one year. The contact for information person was my mother. That almost made decide not to even look into it, but look into it I did. I spoke with her at church that morning and found out that because I would be registering so late, if I went at all, it would cost me an extra $5. She said that she hoped I would come and that she would put the information in the mail to me in the next day or so. That Wednesday, there was no sign of the information I needed. I told David that if it didn’t arrive by the next day, I didn’t think I’d bother going. The next day on my way home, I saw mother’s car on the side of the freeway and stopped to see if she and her husband, who was with her, were ok. They were, the car had been making funny noises and they had stopped so he could make some adjustments and they could get home. While we talked, I asked her about the information she was supposed to mail to me. She said that she planned to “drop by” with it the next day on her way home. I thought, “uh huh. You’re just doing this so you can see Caleb outside of church.”

As I drove away from mother and her husband, I started crying and got angry with myself. Why did I stop to see if they needed help, when I really didn’t care to spend any time with either of them? I suddenly realized that despite everything I feel about them, it is not in my nature to stop caring altogether, nor can I pass up someone I know who may be in need of help.

That night when I got home, I told David what had happened. He agreed with me about mother’s probable motive. I called her and left a message on her machine telling her not to bother, as I wasn’t going to go to the retreat. She didn’t call back and ask, “why?” nor did she ask me in church the next time I saw her, which happened to be her birthday, but then I didn’t stand around in church where she could find me either. She did try to come over to greet my son during the worship service, but I shook my head at her and she backed off. I didn’t fully realize it at that time, but I had made a decision to keep her as far away from my son as possible, even in church, until she and I work out the difficulties in our relationship. Unfortunately, my son may pay the price in the end, but then again, I can’t trust her to follow my wishes in regards to things that concern him, unless I’m right there. The other thing is, that I was hoping this would force her to come to me and say something, which would allow me to tell her why I was doing the things, I did.

It didn’t work. Mother did apologize for not getting the information to me sooner, then she mentioned the probable dates for next year’s retreat along with her hope that I would go. I told her I wasn’t sure I wanted to. The one thing that made me hesitate in the first place was the probability of having to have more contact with her than I really want. At a retreat, there aren’t a whole lot of ways to avoid someone.

The next time she called me, it was to tell me that my insurance had been cancelled. I learned that I’d been driving around without insurance on my car for just over a month. The insurance company sent the renewal notices to mother’s address. Rather than forwarding them to me or putting them in my church mailbox, she assumed they were ads and sent them back. When they kept coming she finally realized they might be important and opened one up. That’s when she called me and said something about it. I was furious. Then to top things off, the insurance company wouldn’t re-instate my policy because it had been over 30 days.

I called mother back and yelled at her. I told her that thanks to her the insurance company would not renew my insurance. She told me it wasn’t her fault that I hadn’t told them my new address and I told her that she could have at least taken it with her to church and put it in my church mailbox, and hadn’t it occurred to her that because it was insurance related, it could be important? I also told her to put the shoe on the other foot. I could bet anything you wanted that if I had done that to her, she would have been angry with me and said things like, “You couldn’t take the time to bring it to church and put it in my church mailbox?”

Yet, she seems to think that it’s fine to not extend me the same courtesy. If she had not known where to find me and how to reach me, then yes, it would be completely my problem, but that’s not the case and obviously she can’t be bothered with such a thing.

I also learned that I can’t spend any time with my mother and my son, Caleb in the same place outside of church. I had occasion to do so at my niece, Raychel’s birthday party. I found myself competing with my mother for my son’s attention. When I realized what I was doing, I stopped, but I was so tense the rest of the day that I even bummed a cigarette from my sister-in-law even though I no longer smoked.

The next morning was Sunday and although I wanted to go to church, I woke up with such a nasty migraine from grinding my teeth over the tension that I was unable to go. I got up and took two Excedrin at 3:30 a.m. then went back to bed. When that didn’t work, I took one more around 7:30 a.m. Two hours later I took two more. When the first two don’t ease it, I know I’m in bad shape. David took us out to breakfast. Although that helped, I was in no condition to go to church. So, David took Caleb to church while I came home and took a much-needed nap on the couch. Thankfully, I had recovered by the time they got home.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 51

David and I knew from the start, we might fall in love. And for a short time it happened. We even talked about getting married.  However, a woman in our church, who had no way of knowing what was happening, came to me at church one morning and asked to speak with me alone. We went to a secluded corner where she told me she felt she had a word from the Lord for me. God told me to “trust Him” and made it clear that he had someone for me. He didn’t tell me not to love David or marry him; just that he had someone for me. As a result, David and I talked it over and decided not to get married. As time went on, we began to see the wisdom in what God said. I love him very much, as a friend. I know he loves me too. However, we both know we’re not what the other needs. There are still times when I am drawn to David as I see things in him that I want and need in my next husband, but in my heart, I know it wouldn’t work between us. Not only that, I love another man very much. So much so, that I want only what’s best for him, regardless of the cost to me. This means that if he would be happier married to another woman, so be it. His name is Dorn.

I met Dorn when I was about 12 or so while he was staying with his aunt in part to help her with his young cousins. I don’t remember why I and my brothers were staying with her, but I do remember developing a huge crush on him. He didn’t know it, but everyone else did. Then circumstances in our lives made it so that we lost contact with each other and I forgot about him completely, although I never forgot about his aunt and cousins.

Then several years later, an interesting set of circumstance brought us back into each other lives. My brother, Mike stopped at a fast food restaurant for lunch, which apparently is a rare thing for him. As he was standing in line, he noticed a woman in another line who looked familiar. She’d been looking at him, too. Then they realized they knew each other. It was Dorn’s cousin, Elaina. They talked and swapped contact information, which included mother’s phone number that she passed on to her mother.

Several days later I came home to a strange car in the driveway, which annoyed me as I had to park on the street and then walk up the steep driveway to the house. After being on my feet all day at work, I was tired. When I got up to the house, I could see the back of a heavyset figure standing in front of the sliding glass door. When I opened it, his Aunt Liz turned around. I said, “Liz!”

She said, “Hello.”

Then we talked for a bit and she told me that Dorn was living in Federal way. I asked how he was as I frantically thought, “Dorn? Who’s Dorn? Oh, yeah, her nephew upon whom I used to have a crush.”

She told me she might bring him by someday. I said, “I’d like that.”

Shortly after that she left. In the days following, I tried to picture seeing him at the house after all those years, but I just couldn’t. A few days later I received a call at work from my mother to tell me that Dorn had called and asked for me.

I said, “He asked for me?”

“Yes.” I was surprised as I hadn’t expected that. He called again after I got home. There was no awkwardness. It was is if we’d always been friends. As time went by and we got to know each other all over again, I began to love him. I didn’t realize it at first. In fact it was David who pointed it out to me one night when we were in his study talking. It took me about three days to adjust to the idea as I felt like I’d been hit on the head with a load of bricks, but I realized he was right. I did and do love Dorn.

The love I feel for him hasn’t died or even lessened in any way. It feels as strong as it did when I first realized what I felt for him wasn’t just friendship. So until that issue is resolved one way or another, no way is my heart free to love David or anyone else for that matter. Part of me wants to; sometimes I think I love David that way, but only for a moment and usually during our most intimate moments because my heart is so involved there. Otherwise no, I just can’t, as my heart isn’t free to right now. There have been times when I wished I didn’t love Dorn. Partly because he made it clear that he didn’t think it was possible for us to ever be more than friends. Also because I think it would be easier on me to not love someone who may never feel the same way. I have learned from this that you cannot control what your heart feels. You can only control how you deal with those feelings.

Loving someone like that and not being able to express it is very difficult and painful in its way. This has helped me to understand how David felt when he used to tell me that he loved me so much that he wanted to kiss me. It has also given me a greater understanding of how much God loves us, but won’t violate our free will and how hard that must be on Him to have so much love for us but be unable to express it.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 50

When we discovered that I love to garden and I have a very green thumb, he bought me the compost bins I wanted and a greenhouse. When the greenhouse got blown away in a windstorm, he helped me find another to replace it with. Both times he helped me build them without complaining that I was creating more work for him. Even though the second one had directions that were about as clear as mud and we had to figure out a lot of things by looking at the diagrams and experimenting with how the pieces fit together for ourselves. There were times when I would have given up on the second greenhouse and returned it, if it were not for the fact that it had the tallest ceiling in it of anything we found suitable for our situation, but I really hated working on it. There were times when David would kind of have to push me into getting out there and working on it.

About the time we got to a good stopping place on the second greenhouse, I realized why it had been so tough for me to work on it, even though it was primarily being built for me to work in. Something about the situation was causing an emotional issue to surface. One I didn’t even know was there.

All my life my mother has treated me as an unpaid servant. As long as I did what she wanted and conformed to her ideas about how my life should be, things were fine. If I tried to be myself or deviate from her ideas in any way, I was treated rebellious. I’ve often said that even now my mother would control me if allowed to.

What really caused me to look at the being my mother’s servant was a lady who owned one of my favorite hamburger restaurants. David and I stopped in there the day we got the main parts of the second greenhouse up, for a celebratory milkshake. The owner mentioned that she’d met my mother one night when she had my son with her. She said that my mother seemed like a nice lady. I just kind of went, “mm hmm.”

For some reason I told her about my mother’s controlling me as I was growing up because the next thing she said was that I was right, my mother was very controlling. When I told her my name was “Mayone (my own)” she looked at me and said, “That’s too possessive. You should change it.”

I realized she was right. I started working on a new name right away. At first I thought I’d just use my middle name, “Marie” and not bother with a complete first name change. Then I realized that although “Marie” is a nice name, it doesn’t really suit me. Not to mention that if I kept my original first name, it would leave me open to someone thinking I am a possession. So, I did some internet research about names. I wanted something unique and hopefully something that didn’t start with the letter “M.” I found some great choices and some interesting choices, but nothing that really seemed to fit me. David suggested I try some combination of my first and middle names, so I started playing with that idea.

Some of the names I came across online or came up with on my own were nice and some were silly. It was an interesting process which took longer than I hoped it would. I just kept reminding myself that whatever I chose, I would be stuck with for the rest of my life. It took me over a year to settle on the name “Wynter.” Originally I was going to keep my middle name, but it didn’t really work with “Wynter,” So I changed that, too. 

David has also taught me that lovemaking doesn’t have to mean intercourse. That caressing and touching and exploring each other’s body is lovemaking too. Actually, making love doesn’t have to be sexual at all. A man bringing home flowers for no reason and saying, “I love you” is a form of making love. Or a woman who fixes her husband’s favorite dishes just to please him is a form of making love.

Also, because of how intimate we have been with each other and because of how I feel about David in general, I tended to be jealous when he’s gone out with another woman. I didn’t like the way I felt and it certainly didn’t seem logical as he wasn’t my husband or even my boyfriend and never will be. However, it was how I felt.

I knew from the start that there was a woman, Karen, whom he’d met at a second church he attended that he was drawn to. He didn’t know why, but he went out with her a couple of times in an effort to figure it out. Every time he was out with her, I missed him and to some extent, a part of me resented her and the fact that she got some of his time.

One of the best things though, is that as I went through these changes and my emotions came to the surface, David was generally quick to reassure me that what I felt was normal and natural. To hear that after years of being told that my emotions were wrong or I was too sensitive or my emotions were out of proportion to the situation, especially the negative ones, is reassuring. Something I’ve needed for as long as I can remember.

I finally realized why I felt so jealous when David talked about going out with other women, regardless of who. The reason is, that for the first time in my life, I am a priority to someone, as best as they can. Not even my own mother ever made me feel like a priority to her. Neither did my ex-husband or the boyfriend before him.

Before my husband and I married, we had sex. Immediately afterward I started shaking and shivering as if I was cold, but I didn’t know why. It only happened the one time, but after we were married, the first time we had sex, I cried when it was over.  I didn’t know why then any more than I knew why I shook the first time. Pat asked me what was wrong. I told him I thought it had to do with the “beauty” of having sex after you were married. I didn’t know how to tell him I didn’t understand my tears. After our divorce, I waited several months before dating again. When I did get involved with a man again and had sex with him, I shook and shivered when it was over. It happened with every man the first time I had sex with him. Anytime we had sex after that there was no shaking. I never understood why I shook and shivered until one night I had a dream.

I was sound asleep one night when I started having a wild dream. I dreamt that David was angry and frustrated about something. He walked into his bedroom and I followed him so I could listen to him and try to help if possible. We sat on either side of his bed and he had his back to me. I reached out and started to rub his back, as there really wasn’t much else I could do for him. Pretty soon we were kissing and then we were having sex. In my mind I started fighting the dream. I was thinking, “No! This isn’t right. This isn’t what God wants! No! No! No! NO!”

Then I woke up. I looked at the clock and it read about 3:45 a.m. I wanted to tell David about my dream, but he wasn’t going to be up for another 45 minutes or so. I fell back into a restless sleep for another 30 minutes or so. Then I got up to go to the bathroom. The moment I sat up, I started to shake and shiver as if I was cold, but I wasn’t. I did what I needed to do and then crawled in next to David. He noticed me shivering as I adjusted his blankets to cover me. He told me to crawl in and get warm. I crawled beneath the covers, cuddled up and almost immediately stopped shivering. That’s when I realized I was emotionally needy.

When David’s alarm went off, I didn’t even hear it. He got up turned it off, ate some breakfast and came back to bed because he’d realized I needed him that morning. After he satisfied my emotional need I told him about my dream and how I used to shiver and shake like that after having sex with the other men in my life. He told me that it was my body’s way of telling me that my emotional needs were not being met. I knew he was right the moment he said it. Those men had not met my emotional needs. They probably couldn’t have given that I didn’t understand how I needy I was.

It’s not just my emotional need for physical affection that gets met either. David will do things that are just for me. For instance, when I had my 40^th birthday, he bought me a cake at Costco that I’d wanted to try.

For his 60^th birthday, he took his vacation and then he and I went several places and tried new restaurants with just the two of us; and I got to choose the restaurants!

When appliances in the house needed replacing, we went looking together and I made the final choice. I always chose things that cost more, but would last for a long time. Such as the stove: its professional quality designed for the home and I love it. So are my new crock pot and the clothes washer.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute part 48

If you’ve read this far into my story, I’m sure you’re wondering if David and I were physically intimate. In other words, “Did we have sex?”

Yes. A couple of times, but God spoke to David and said, “I understand, but you two need to back down. This is not what I brought you together for.”

We stopped. It wasn’t easy and there were times when we pushed it, but each time God spoke to David to remind him. About the third or fourth time though, God also told him that if we didn’t do as He said, He would pull us apart. God did allow us other physical intimacies to satisfy our natural sexual needs.

Our physical relationship is based on need, not lust or just because we want to have fun. God made that clear early on, as well. That hasn’t been easy, either.

The thing that has impressed me and helped me the most is that David has always put me first in our physical relationship. I have never felt as though he was satisfying me so he could meet his own needs as so many men tend to do. This is turn has made me feel even safer with him than I ever have with any other man, including my ex-husband. Some of the men in my past did try to make sure I was satisfied, but there was always an underlying, “if I take care of her, I can get what I want.” I never truly felt like it was purely for me, whereas with David, I get the sense that’s he’s concerned with my pleasure. His can wait till he knows I’m content. There’s no need to hurry on his account.

Another thing that helps me is that he’s never asked me to do anything I’m not comfortable with or enjoy doing. We discussed those things once and I was pleasantly surprised to learn he didn’t like them either.

I think it also helped that for years before I moved in with him, David had been telling me that he loved me. Not of his own accord or feelings, but because God had given him a love for me that at times he had a hard time containing. During those years, he’d sometimes tell me that he wanted to kiss me, but because he knew I wasn’t ready. he didn’t. He never even tried to violate my boundaries.

God used our physical relationship to help heal part of me emotionally and sexually as those parts of me have been the most damaged. Because of our intimacy God exposed a part of me, which felt like I was a prostitute. I’ve known for a long time there was a part of me that felt that way. Once, when I was in high school, I dreamt that I was in the part of our town where you’re most likely to find prostitutes and that I was wearing a dress, which had been crocheted in such a fashion as to leave huge openings in the shape of sunflowers. On this occasion, we were just starting to become intimate, when David looked in my eyes and saw “her” the part of me, which felt like a prostitute. He stopped everything right there and we sat up and talked about “her” presence in me. The big reason “she” got exposed right then was that I was behind in my rent to David and it bothered me, even though it didn’t bother him. He saw that in my view, I only had one way to pay him, and that was with my body.

Shortly after God exposed “her” presence in my life, “she” was driven out. I sat down and wrote a note to David in a card, which said something about “understanding being a fountain,” and expressed my heart regarding his understanding. This was enough to finish driving “her” out of my life.

Also because of our intimacy, I have opened up to David in ways I don’t think I could have or would have otherwise. I’ve allowed myself to express the pain, shame, disappointment, and anger I’ve felt over different circumstances in my life. I could not and would not have done this had I not felt completely safe with David and able to trust him. The physical intimacy we shared showed me how much he cared for me and respected me, which in turn made me feel very safe. His sensitivity to my needs and wants and his respect for my boundaries and comfort levels during our intimate times are the things which allowed me to know that I was loved and respected in ways which I had never experienced before.

The physical intimacy we share isn’t the most important part of our relationship. It simply allows me to know that David truly loves me and will not take advantage of me, which allows an emotional intimacy to blossom between us.

When a woman is physically intimate with a man, she finds out real quick whether he’s being honest with her about his feelings or he’s doing what he has to do so he can get what he wants. The physical intimacy between David and I allows me to know he loved me as he never seeks to please himself only. This has also been difficult for me because as the woman in me came to life, I found myself becoming more sensitive to being touched, caressed and kissed by a man who really loves me and in turn that makes me want more. Caressing me can now arouse me in ways I never thought possible for me. I’ve heard about women who could be aroused by being caressed but never thought of myself as one of them.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 47

I also came to realize that some of the people in that church, who seemed to care about me, didn’t really care. There was one man named George who loved to have me hug him, but after the church split up, he called me to tell me about another church but didn’t ask me how I was doing. What made this incident particularly sad and revealing was that the last time I’d seen him in church, I’d been on crutches as I was having trouble with my left knee and my doctor didn’t know what was causing the problem.

In fact, most people in the church didn’t really care that I was on crutches. No one offered to come to our house and help me do household chores, not even the person who ran the Helps ministry, which was there for that purpose. I asked the leader, Cindy one day in church for help and the only day she could come was David’s day off and he could do things then. When I told her this, she said that the Helps ministry was only for people who not only couldn’t do things for themselves, but who had no one else to help them. I remember looking at her in surprise and thinking, “something’s not right here.”

It wasn’t until several months later that I realized what wasn’t right. I had been part of the Helps ministry and had gotten a call to prepare dinner for a woman who’d had surgery on one arm, which made her unable cook for her family. When I delivered the dinner I’d cooked, she was surprised because no one had told her I was coming, so her husband was cooking dinner. That’s when I knew that the leader of the Helps ministry didn’t really care and was probably judging me too.

During my time on crutches, the only one who offered me anything at all, was Bill, the elder I’d gone to for help with Caleb’s baby dedication. I went up to talk him one morning after service. Before I could say anything, he took one look at me and said, “Oh, Sweetie, let me pray for you!”

Then he proceeded to do so. He was the only one in the whole church who offered me more than sympathy during that time.

David has said that when I moved in, my emotional meter was buried so far in the red, it’s a wonder I didn’t explode sooner. I know now, if I had not moved out my mother’s house, I would have exploded and the consequences would have been disastrous for both me and my son. I would have assaulted my mother with the intent to kill her.

For the first two years after I moved in, I let loose. I expressed my anger, my rage, my pain, and even my shame, but mostly anger and pain. There were times when this was difficult for me to do. In essence, I was pouring out my anger at other people on David. If I hesitated, he’d encourage me to let it go. Over time it got easier to let whatever I was feeling in the moment come out. I’d cry, scream, or rage in general. I think at first it was about mother’s second husband, Don, who sexually and physically abused me, as well as the men who’d used and hurt me.  

What I didn’t realize at first, was that a lot of my anger was actually directed at my mother. It wasn’t till David told me one day that every time I talked with my mother on the phone, the moment I got off, I’d be going, “Do you know what she did, now?”

Then he told me that if I didn’t start telling her how I really felt about her, he was going to spank me.  He wasn’t kidding. So, the next time I was on the phone with mother, I started telling her how I really felt. It wasn’t easy at first, as she is my mother. As time went on I got more comfortable telling her my true feelings and soon it became a habit. At this point, I’m not speaking with her, unless absolutely necessary. Like the night we met my aunt, her sister and my uncle for dinner. Even then, I kept what I said to her to an absolute minimum.

David and I do not co-habitat in the usual sense of the word. I don’t sleep in his bed as a general rule. Yes, I’ve slept in his bed at times, with him, but not to have sex. It was because I needed to cuddle. I wanted and needed the comfort of being able to lay my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. There were times when had it been possible; I would have spent every night in his bed for that reason. There were a couple of problems with that idea.

One of them being that David had never slept next to someone who wanted to cuddle so much. Apparently, his ex-wife, Jan was something of an iceberg. During their 20 years or so of marriage, she showed no real desire to cuddle or be really affectionate. We also discovered early on that we’re both passionate, loving people with a great capacity to love. While those things can be a blessing, they can also be difficult, especially in this kind of situation. The last reason we couldn’t is that we both snore and talk in our sleep, so neither of us would get much real rest.

We did however, finally work out a compromise where I would come in and lay with him to cuddle for a bit without all the problems, although at first that had its problems too. We discovered that I could come in about 15 minutes before David had to get up for work and cuddle with him. At first, I would come in and he would start kissing me. Then we wouldn’t really be just cuddling. On top of that it got my hormones running with nowhere to go. After this had happened a few times, I told him how it made me feel and he quit. At first I would quietly slip in and wait for him to realize I was there rather than just snuggle up thereby disturbing his sleep. As time went on he became aware I was there the moment I entered the room and was ready to snuggle as soon as I crawled in. Not only that, but if I moved as if to move away before he had to get up, he pulled me closer. I cannot begin to express how nice that was.