Now this is a very good thing
Nov. 14th, 2004 12:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brightrosefoxSo, this weekend was full of... indescribable unexpectedness. But I'm a word witch, so I'll try.
Adam, Charlotte, Billy and I were discussing psychic energy manipulation, letting each other see the parts of us hidden away -- the powerful magic parts; Charlotte identified mine as a very willfull sprite with a very fiery attitude. She (my sprite) challenged Billy to a power match, and he unleashed his own power -- inherited from his mother, long dead. It took me a while to get my otherself under control; she was trying to burn the inside of my brain she was so worked up. But, later on, things settled. Charlotte gave me her Dragon Tarot deck. The cards took to me instantly, which is always nice. I love tarot. I don't think the cards themselves are truly magic, but I think they reflect the subconscious desires of the person asking the questions. You can do it with playing cards. Adam showed me. Charlotte did a reading for me, and it literally smacked me upside the head: Write the book. Finish the book. All things will fall into place if you just finish the godsdamn book, woman! The final outcome was blatantly referring to Adam, and how parts of my future with him would tie into my (hopeful) success with the novel. We all did readings for each other, all incredibly accurate. Adam read me in his own style, with only the Major Arcana, and again, smack upside the head. The book. Finish it. Live my dream.
And then Adam taught Charlotte how to put me under. (it's similar to hypnosis, except you delve so deeply into the person's pure subconscious mind that it goes beyond hypnosis to extreme subliminal suggestion, and beyond that.) Charlotte apparently wanted to work with my subconscious to find out why I was so blocked in my writing. Naturally, I don't remember the key word she used to send me under, but she let me remember everything she did -- including a regression into a very unfortunate past life. I was a writer, just before the time of Emily Dickinson. I would have been famous. But my husband was so horribly abusive that he killed me. He put me down, ridiculed me, called me worthless, told me my writing was stupid and silly and wouldn't support our family. I think my daughter from that life may be around now.
We also discovered my other two blocks -- my fear of losing myself if I do become a success, and my deeply mistaken relationship with Ben. But we decided that the heartbreak and betrayal and destruction he gave to me helped shape me as a better writer and a better person. As I started coming out of the trance, I heard Charlotte whisper that the blocks were gone. I felt light-headed and very, very free. It was lovely.
Sleep came for me and Charlotte and we woke up Saturday around noon. The boys napped, but had been busy. Adam woke me up to tell me that he was stopping by our house and that he'd get me clean clothes. I met Charlotte upstairs and she made french toast. The boys returned from their errands, which included working on Adam's motorcycle. When I looked through the duffel bag that Adam had brought, I realized, with dismay, that he had brought only one pair of pants, a long ruffled black skirt, a black velvet sleeveless ballet top, a black velvet corset, a black thong, a pair of black panties, and two pairs of black socks. I couldn't really wear any of them casually. Charlotte and I figured that he wanted me to wear something sexy to Danny's party that night. I settled for the ballet top, the khaki pants, and a black velvet jacket-shirt that Charlotte gave me. She borrowed the corset, since she's only two sizes bigger than me.
The party was a pleasant event. Got to see missed friends, listened to Jason play his guitar and sing some new songs off his in-progress album. Talked at length with Beca about my novel, which she still loves, which makes me feel wonderful.
Adam and I came home early this morning and decided to give into our carnal desires. He actively helped break down a few more barriers as far as my confidence and courage were concerned, and we had a serious talk about where our relationship was going. He explained that just because we would pass the fifth year mark did not mean he would propose right away. It could be six months or a year. He wants to build a foundation. He thinks it would be an insult to who we are if we called each other "fiance" right now, in our current situation. He wants us to truly be Together. He wants Us. Not just a couple, but a single unit of two people committed completely. And he needs to make sure that we can have all of that while standing on firm, solid ground -- financially, socially, mentally, emotionally, in a house of our own with money set aside for a real life. He wants to make sure everything is perfect -- he wants the proposal to be perfect, and he wants to be able to put a ring on my finger with absolute certainty that this is where our life will go.
Once he put it like that, I understood better than I ever had. It makes sense. It's not that he's not a hopeless romatic -- he is, very much -- but he is also a realist, a pragmatist. He knows that being engaged and giddy in love is wonderful. But he personally wants to make sure we're solid in our surroundings. At this point, we really have moved somewhat past "boyfriend and girlfriend" and not quite engaged. But in our hearts, there is that closeness. That's good enough for me. I like the idea of being so secure.
Oh yes, and he also sent my ego skyrocketing when he called me one of the most truly beautiful woman he has ever known. He really wanted me to look past my insecurities and see that I really am a vibrant, sexual, gorgeous woman. And that the people in my past who ripped me down and teased me and called me worthless, stupid, and ugly were jealous and it was the only way they could bring me down below them. Because if I had stood up and fought, I would have won and they'd known it. I wish I could remember who that girl had been. The firecracker volcano. Unfortunately, she was buried when I was such a small, small child, still too young to understand the power of hurtful words.
But I feel her now, in my head, moving freely. She's here. She's grown up with me all these years.
We're ready.
Adam, Charlotte, Billy and I were discussing psychic energy manipulation, letting each other see the parts of us hidden away -- the powerful magic parts; Charlotte identified mine as a very willfull sprite with a very fiery attitude. She (my sprite) challenged Billy to a power match, and he unleashed his own power -- inherited from his mother, long dead. It took me a while to get my otherself under control; she was trying to burn the inside of my brain she was so worked up. But, later on, things settled. Charlotte gave me her Dragon Tarot deck. The cards took to me instantly, which is always nice. I love tarot. I don't think the cards themselves are truly magic, but I think they reflect the subconscious desires of the person asking the questions. You can do it with playing cards. Adam showed me. Charlotte did a reading for me, and it literally smacked me upside the head: Write the book. Finish the book. All things will fall into place if you just finish the godsdamn book, woman! The final outcome was blatantly referring to Adam, and how parts of my future with him would tie into my (hopeful) success with the novel. We all did readings for each other, all incredibly accurate. Adam read me in his own style, with only the Major Arcana, and again, smack upside the head. The book. Finish it. Live my dream.
And then Adam taught Charlotte how to put me under. (it's similar to hypnosis, except you delve so deeply into the person's pure subconscious mind that it goes beyond hypnosis to extreme subliminal suggestion, and beyond that.) Charlotte apparently wanted to work with my subconscious to find out why I was so blocked in my writing. Naturally, I don't remember the key word she used to send me under, but she let me remember everything she did -- including a regression into a very unfortunate past life. I was a writer, just before the time of Emily Dickinson. I would have been famous. But my husband was so horribly abusive that he killed me. He put me down, ridiculed me, called me worthless, told me my writing was stupid and silly and wouldn't support our family. I think my daughter from that life may be around now.
We also discovered my other two blocks -- my fear of losing myself if I do become a success, and my deeply mistaken relationship with Ben. But we decided that the heartbreak and betrayal and destruction he gave to me helped shape me as a better writer and a better person. As I started coming out of the trance, I heard Charlotte whisper that the blocks were gone. I felt light-headed and very, very free. It was lovely.
Sleep came for me and Charlotte and we woke up Saturday around noon. The boys napped, but had been busy. Adam woke me up to tell me that he was stopping by our house and that he'd get me clean clothes. I met Charlotte upstairs and she made french toast. The boys returned from their errands, which included working on Adam's motorcycle. When I looked through the duffel bag that Adam had brought, I realized, with dismay, that he had brought only one pair of pants, a long ruffled black skirt, a black velvet sleeveless ballet top, a black velvet corset, a black thong, a pair of black panties, and two pairs of black socks. I couldn't really wear any of them casually. Charlotte and I figured that he wanted me to wear something sexy to Danny's party that night. I settled for the ballet top, the khaki pants, and a black velvet jacket-shirt that Charlotte gave me. She borrowed the corset, since she's only two sizes bigger than me.
The party was a pleasant event. Got to see missed friends, listened to Jason play his guitar and sing some new songs off his in-progress album. Talked at length with Beca about my novel, which she still loves, which makes me feel wonderful.
Adam and I came home early this morning and decided to give into our carnal desires. He actively helped break down a few more barriers as far as my confidence and courage were concerned, and we had a serious talk about where our relationship was going. He explained that just because we would pass the fifth year mark did not mean he would propose right away. It could be six months or a year. He wants to build a foundation. He thinks it would be an insult to who we are if we called each other "fiance" right now, in our current situation. He wants us to truly be Together. He wants Us. Not just a couple, but a single unit of two people committed completely. And he needs to make sure that we can have all of that while standing on firm, solid ground -- financially, socially, mentally, emotionally, in a house of our own with money set aside for a real life. He wants to make sure everything is perfect -- he wants the proposal to be perfect, and he wants to be able to put a ring on my finger with absolute certainty that this is where our life will go.
Once he put it like that, I understood better than I ever had. It makes sense. It's not that he's not a hopeless romatic -- he is, very much -- but he is also a realist, a pragmatist. He knows that being engaged and giddy in love is wonderful. But he personally wants to make sure we're solid in our surroundings. At this point, we really have moved somewhat past "boyfriend and girlfriend" and not quite engaged. But in our hearts, there is that closeness. That's good enough for me. I like the idea of being so secure.
Oh yes, and he also sent my ego skyrocketing when he called me one of the most truly beautiful woman he has ever known. He really wanted me to look past my insecurities and see that I really am a vibrant, sexual, gorgeous woman. And that the people in my past who ripped me down and teased me and called me worthless, stupid, and ugly were jealous and it was the only way they could bring me down below them. Because if I had stood up and fought, I would have won and they'd known it. I wish I could remember who that girl had been. The firecracker volcano. Unfortunately, she was buried when I was such a small, small child, still too young to understand the power of hurtful words.
But I feel her now, in my head, moving freely. She's here. She's grown up with me all these years.
We're ready.
