sourgurl77's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- slavery I really hate that sometimes I feel so anxious that I could cry or get so angry that I snap at people. It's hard to blame this on a small white pill containing hormones, but yet I do blame it on that. Today I've been up and down. Over analyzing WG - I could write a question book for him. Why haven't I met your parents? Why can't you make the first move? Why do you never invite me over to your house? Why must I always cook? Why didn't you tell me sooner that you prefer my side of the bed? And in me, I'm questioning, should I have fought for my side of the bed? Did I give it up to quick? Do I please him to much, more so than him for my own happiness? Does it matter? Or is that giving up a piece of myself, that comforting side of my bed where I always sleep on? What, now, if I can't sleep on the other side? It's change. That drives me mad. Relationships. I find. Are ever changing. Never stale, and if stale then they end. But ours is blooming and branching all the time. It's hard to deal with when I'm sitting there with pruning shears, trying to shape it, make it grown where I want. But nature is wild. So my mind is jumbled with things I shouldn't even worry about, things easily explained when I've asked him. Mostly maybe I question, why don't you, can't you, say you love me? Still, in that, I am in not hurry for the L-word. Cause that opens up a lot of things ... to me ... it's scary. To me, I just can't deal with the L-Word. Not right now. We could feel it, maybe we do it, but saying it, is scary. Also. Didn't want to say anything, but I already have to him. I've been having panic attacks suddenly. Sudden feeling of dread. Suddenly feeling so afraid that I'm nearly paralyzed to move, I don't feel myself and I just want it to go away. It lasts for a few minutes. But it began on the night of Valentine's. I had one last night and today, hope they've gone away. Not sure why, I'm thinking the only change is the whole intimacy thing. Friday, maybe him telling me what he wanted to do. And me always acting cool about it, and me not wanting to offend. I think maybe I feel scared of it ... because ... of things. Of him getting upset cause I couldn't get comfortable, and maybe worried to upset him and just....worried that I won't be able to climax with him or what if I don't like what he does, or if he makes comments. I can't deal with comments, my ex did that, and WG sometimes does it and I can't, wont' deal with comments about my body or sexually, anything. There is utter baggage of mine. Dont' tell me I shake when I come or tell me that my tits feel like pencil erasers, things like that, I can't handle, I have low self esteem an little things like that, I can't do. He's not that bad, and I have told him already not to make COMMENTS. I will tell him this again as it's very important. I dont' think he would say anything, but just in case. I'm not nervous about tomorrow. I look foward to it, though it's odd with how ... excited ... I was when we merely were kissing a lil and him touching my boobs ... I was ... yeah. I don't get that shit, I guess it was the thrill of him doing it, when I thought he never would. I've been fantasizing about what we'll do friday and when we have sex, just to get myself ready. I tend to over worry. I know. I'm a perfectionist in many ways. I want to be perfect for him, sane, neat and tidy. I think we as women try to be perfect lil model - perfectly little pre-wives so they think what we are now, is what they'll get when a ring is on our finger. Though anymore. Thoughts of marriage. Of kids, of a house, of daily routine. Anymore. Seem like slavery. 5:20 p.m. - 2006-02-16 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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