Overtime

Phew, what a weekend!

If you want a story fit for the movies, then read on… Action, drama, and if you are the sort to laugh at other people’s expense, then comedy too! Personally, it was eventful enough that neither the kids nor I wanted to get out of bed this morning to resume our normal routines. I should have called a sick day for all of us, but I couldn’t see myself sitting with the two boys at home when they start getting their energy switched on and I still feel like dying a little. So I kicked them out of the house and into the school and now I have peace while watching the sprinklers wet the lawn.

Just a quick note; this blog is written terribly. I reread it over and over and I can not get myself to edit it properly. Those who read my blogs will surely note the difference, I apologise to you.

Now, I can hear the collective yell of What happened?! So I will start my story from Friday morning. We all woke up slow and easy, knowing that today is the day that we travel to Vryheid for my youngest aunt’s wedding, which is a 4.5 hr drive from us. I packed our bags, collected some toys and made some snacks for the drive. My ex rented a car for us to travel with since the piece of crap he has had me drive is hardly roadworthy and he still hasn’t replaced my car that I asked him to sell.

By 10:30 we were ready to hit the road. I made my brother swear that he wouldn’t drink anything along the way, buckled the boys and loaded a huge stack of CD’s, and we were off! I love road trips, there is something very meditative about it. While I still have concentrate and focus, there is a settling in my soul, especially when everyone falls asleep and the quiet in the car allows me to release into the drive.

It just takes a while to get there… First, we have to stop every half an hour because the boys have to pee. Then they fight over the fact that one kid has three toy cars and the other only has two. Then I had the misfortune of my brother drinking secretly around the corner, getting back into the car trashed, passing out and falling all over me while I drive because he can’t seem to stay in his seat. So, inevitability, I was ready to spontaneously pop my eardrums before we were even half way there.

To be fair, I did get about an hour’s peace before it all started again. This is also where our drive became a little more interesting. For some reason, the GPS took us out on a gravel road through some farm area. It reckoned that the fastest route includes this little piece, and in all honesty, I am always up for an adventure, so I didn’t mind taking that route. It is also not the first time (or tenth time) that I drive gravel road, so I didn’t bother to drive at snail’s pace, instead, I just kept a steady enough pace to leave some dust clouds in my wake.

At this point, my brother decided to joke around with me and yelled “You are really enjoying this, aren’t you? Aren’t you!?” while sticking his fingers into my sides. One patch of loose soil later and the car was suddenly skidding all over the show while I tried to do some corrective driving. Not so easy on gravel, I’ll tell you…

So I took the car over the gravel embankment on the side of the road and through the hook fencing, finally bringing the car to a halt. We were all fine, I was a bit shaken up, my babies were in the car with me and I just crashed a rental car. Enough to make me shake a little.

Here I realised two things; first, I am not as good a driver as I think I am. I just ruined my record of being accident-free for the last, I don’t know, decade, maybe. I am known for pushing at my limits when driving while staying safe, and once someone even remarked that I would do well as an emergency vehicle driver. But right then, I remembered how easily an accident could happen that could very well have had all of us in the hospital!

The second thing I realise is that I am indeed as good a driver as I think I am. Bare with me… The kind of accident we just had is notorious for flipping cars. Almost every time. Not only did I manage to keep the car right side up, but nobody even got hurt. Quite a feat actually, and for the duration of the weekend, everyone thought it wise to remind me of this every time they saw me.

When we finally got the car out of the farm and back on the road, we were only a hop away from our destination. So, I sent a prayer of thanks to the heavens, reloaded my family and proceeded on our travels with a car that got scratched to shit and will need a new front bumper, but is otherwise in good condition.

When we arrived at my aunt’s house, I was surprised to discover that news spread like wild fire and I had become something of a celebrity. Everyone wanted to talk to me and find out how I got the car to stay upright and how we got the car back on the road again. I had slaps on the back, handshakes and a number of lengthy hugs, enough so to make me quite uncomfortable. And being with family after a long drive and “near-death” experience had me suddenly exhausted to my bones.

For the first time, I found myself missing Rocky furiously.

Don’t get me wrong. I miss him every day, but right then I would have given anything to just talk to him. I accept that he would not have been able to offer me any comfort or suchlike. But I needed to break away to a place where I can safely crumple up, a place where I could feel unpressured to release some of the pent up emotion, and know that I do not need to measure myself exclusively.

After doing some stitching, sorting the kids, visiting like cronies and smoking so much that I went to bed with a smokers hangover, I finally found myself in blessed silence again at midnight. Except that I couldn’t sleep… So I woke up every half hour or hour until my boys finally decided that they have slept enough and got up to make their usual racket.

Feeling wary, I started on making and baking some of the desserts that were going to go to the wedding. I baked and mixed and sorted and cleaned and ironed and suddenly it was 2 pm and we weren’t even at the venue yet and I have only managed to shower AND the wedding was at 3!

So we raced to the venue, where I had to dress both boys and help my mom before I could finally dress and put makeup on. I got ready in 4min flat, only to have a bouquet of flowers shoved in my hand and to get told that I am part of the wedding procession! WHAT?!

Well… I take it in stride, it’s what the bride wanted.

After the formalities, we ended up rushing to the kitchen to finish all the canapes and desserts, only to rush back out to actually meet and greet some family. Look, the wedding was fun. We danced and ate and smoked and went wild. I managed to capture three men, none of whom I was interested in, but still made me note that if I ever need a guy, I could probably just stick my hand up and yell Here! and I’ll have male company in a jiffy. It’s also worth mentioning that I am not a smoker, but I did a bang-up job of emptying some boxes. I crushed it! The smoking, and the boxes, that is. 😊

By the time my kids were tired, though, I was a mess. Exhaustion radiated off me. So I started saying my goodbyes, only for my aunt to stop me and tell me how much she appreciated everything I have done for her. She said that when she felt overwhelmed and alone, I was there. And that she counts me as one of her sisters because she loves me so much. This is where I finally started to lose my fragile grasp on my emotions and started to cry a little. When I finally got away from her, my other aunt grabbed a hold of me and laughingly said “Look, you are making me cry too!”

I collapsed on the floor next to her chair and looked her in the eye. “I am not crying for the same reasons you are crying.” When she looked at me from an angle, I could see the confusion in her eyes. “I am crying because I am tired of always hearing how awesome I am, how much I do for people, how kind I am, what an amazing person I am, and all the while I am so desperately unhappy.”

She looked at me for a second, then pushed my head against her soft, ample bosom and allowed me to simply cry. For the first time I can remember, I permitted someone to hold me while I shook with the grieve that is drowning me.

During my time with Rocky, I realised that I do too much for other people and not enough for myself. Rocky always said he wanted to “set me free”. I never understood that. But over this weekend I found that maybe I wasn’t the one who needed to be set free. I am free. I have always been free. But I am not happy. In fact, I am desperately clinging on to making everyone else happy. Happy does not equal free. Happy is something I do not have for myself.

I was happy with Rocky. So much so that I even picked up weight. (This is huge for me because I lost a lot of weight over the last year and have been unable to pick it back up.) I know Rocky could never give me the full D/s experience, but sometimes my mind screams violently for him and it comes up with plans to ask him to take me back! But then my heart reminds me why I walked away, and then everything comes back to its usual simmer.

The fact is that Rocky gave me a taste of the happiness I wanted. I touched it, then I threw it away.

…

Anyway, so yesterday I drove us home uneventfully after sleeping fitfully again on Saturday night. My brother was mostly passed out, thank goodness, I can’t have conversations with drunks. My kids were loud and rambunctious, and the music was good. We all passed out at 8 last night and this morning none of us seemed to have the energy for the new week. Especially not me…

This morning I have come to terms with some of my emotions after crying some more and I wonder how to pick up a Dom asap. One that could care for me, someone I could lean on and never feel judged. A Dom who would envelop me so that I do not have to feel quite so alone.

I love that Rocky introduced me to this kind of relationship dynamic. But I fear that I have become picky to the point where I will not settle for less now. And that puts my options a little on the thin side. And to make matters worse, I am super sensitive to all things D/s. I hear someone mention the word ‘submissive’ and I melt, no matter that it’s in a different context. I wore a choker on Friday and had a guy tell me he likes my choker and is looking for a place to hook the leash. You are the wrong man, buddy. My collar is not reserved for you! So many things are constantly reminding me of my time with Rocky, I miss submitting to someone as large as him.

My grandfather’s sister told me on Saturday evening: “You must pray. Never stop praying. And God will put the right man on your doorstep.” Please, just don’t let it be when I turn 80!

Emotional mess. I don’t really like being a woman sometimes…

I. Am. Dryad.

Footnote: This blog is for all you crazies who decide to follow me after I said I have nothing to blog about anymore! You made my day, I will continue writing just for you. And I know that Rocky would be proud of me too.