Working Through What Life Brings

So Sir and I had a very hard discussion last night.  He was prepping me for an inevitable end that I don't want to end.  No one is dying, but it's an end to something that I love.  It was a planned end.  It was expected.  But my love for this thing (and no I'm not explaining what the thing is, sorry) was unexpected but non-the-less...it's there and it's real.

So we had this discussion and I went through many quick steps of grieving all at once...It was an exhausting night.

So at the beginning of our evening, we were sitting in the living room.  The fire was lit, we were comfortable, the evening had been lovely.  He began the conversation with, "Ok, fiona.  We need to take a few minutes and really talk about this.  I need to know where you stand and we need to be in this together."  As we are with all major decisions in our life.  We are together.  He continued talking.  I listened.  I didn't look at him, which was not typical of either of us, but I think it was just a lot of information and a lot of processing and I didn't want to make eye contact.  He finished talking and I continued to sit there listening...to nothing.  Finally he said, "fiona, I've said my peace.  I've given you a lot to think about.  What do you think."  I sat quietly.  Alone.

Then I opened up my mouth.  I was angry.  We argued for a while until I was SERIOUSLY PISSED.  Now my love, my Sir, my husband is a good Great man.  He wasn't doing anything TO me, he was discussing and trying to work through.  Eventually when I had argued and argued, I got up and picked up my things.  He looked quizzically at me and said, "Are you going to bed??"  to which I SHOUTED..."YYYYYEEEEESSSSS" in a none-too-pleasant tone.

WTF, fiona.  I stomped upstairs in all of my five-year-old-glory and went to our bedroom.  He followed me upstairs.  He put his hand on my neck and pushed me over the bed.  I was MAD.  I don't want this. I don't want a SPANKING.  I don't want anything but to wallow in self-pity.  So I fought for a minute, maybe even only 30 seconds and then accepted no acknowledged my need.

He helped me rid myself of my pants and panties and he spanked, and I cried, immediately.  Damn, I am NOT a crier, but I needed to cry.  It felt good to cry.  I HATE THAT by the way.  I hate to cry and I hate that it was cathartic.  But there you have it.  He spanked me with his hand and with the clipboard, it's what was immediately accessible.

At the end, he rubbed and rubbed and then pulled me up and held me.  He caressed my had and rubbed my back.  He tipped my chin up to look at him and said, "That wasn't enough, I know.     I know."

And I think it was him saying it was all he could do.  He couldn't listen to me cry, sob into the bed and continue to beat me.  He needed to sooth too, he needed to connect, he needed to care for me also.  And he's right.  It wasn't enough.  But I needed the connection and the soothing and care also.  I needed it all.  It wasn't enough, but it was a start, and I'm grateful for that.