Hardened

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So…I’ve got this little issue that began a few years ago with a series of three (well four) books that opened the door to what they would then label mommy porn. It was just the beginning for me of a new era of reading. I was so bored with books, even more bored with my love life. As you may know, we had been married around 19 or 20 years then and our love life was, well…missionary. Then came “mommy porn” and it’s gold rush of accessibility on e-readers, Audible and hiding a book behind another more serious book.

Slowly, conversations around the lunchroom and specific friends would change and we had quite a fun time sharing some of our favorite fantasies expressed more like “did you read that one scene where…” and so on. Subtlety, I remember twisting my body a bit this way and that way in bed during our “marital relations” in an effort to express subconsciously what was exploding out of my head as what I really wanted in bed, but was way too embarrassed to ask for. Yeah, that didn’t work too well. An old tie snatched out of the closet and placed on the nightstand went unnoticed. Months of this carried on. Frustration, both sexually and in our daily relationship grew as I continued my secret reading club of one. Building expectations and for some completely pathetic way never expressing them to my husband and resenting him for it. Until I began taking more, researching more, and slowly opening up to him about what I was reading. On long car rides, I would chime in…with a snuggle to the right side of the driver, hand along his inner right arm.

“Don’t you want to hear about this amazing Japanese rope tying thing I read about in this series. It’s really not what you think! The book makes it seem like so much more!  There’s this class in the city where you meet up and try it? Wanna go?”

Ok. I knew it was a long shot.  I wasn’t expecting him to sign up for any class or join a bunch of weirdo sex freaks on the top of a local hiking ridge with a variety of rope and yoga mats, but remember, we are still working on getting that neck tie around my eyes. The tie on the night stand? Yeah, that was my reality. It hadn’t moved.  Let me give credit where credit is due by the way. If you’ve never read the amazing “Mastered Series” by Lorelei James, Including Bound, Unwound, Schooled, Unraveled, and Caged , do yourself a favor and give at the very least the first one a try. Here’s the link on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/series/109024-mastered

Anyhow, this whole series was what started the conversation between my husband and I. It was like I had to prove the beauty in what looked and sounded so ludicrous and San Francisco BDSM like when I would try to explain it. Nothing could do it justice like Lorelie James did. Maybe it was a cultural thing. Maybe we needed to go to Japan. Maybe I was craving not just some dominance but some protection. Protection not in the bedroom or from bad guys but from life and daily struggles of our life itself? These are the topics that started to build in our conversations.

Our conversations started to change with books I would read. I didn’t always stick with hard core erotica books. I love a good romance with the billionaire. My expectations would get to high and  I would get home from a day of teaching disappointed that the man wasn’t waiting with his private jet and ready to strip me naked. So I would turn to more real world romances.

Books where they didn’t always have to be a millionaire or a girl in distress, where there was a sexy working man and he was good enough because HE loved HER. The author did THAT good of a job depicting the love that grew between the two “average”, but let’s not fool ourselves and say they weren’t always beautiful, characters, in a way that kept us strung along that first two thirds of the story until the problem climaxed and thank God, with an hour left in the book, we knew we had at least one good love scene left after resolution and a happily ever after.

Why do any of these books really matter? What do they really have to do with my love life? They opened the door to communication. My husband needs a visual stimulation. Most men do and for anyone out there who thinks their husband doesn’t, good for you. Check his internet history girlfriend. It’s nature. I needed my own kick starter and that was literature.

Books have led to a point of sexual liberation in our relationship. I will go into those fun details another time, and I am no sex therapist, but I did meet with one. We do have special challenges in our marriage. Our sex life is complicated by a neuromuscular disease and my own body pain and limits that I am working on. However, we now have intimacy vocabulary to work with that we never had before. We are not immune to love, intimacy, realistic expectations. I do see how some of this erotica and definitely porn can cause that issue in young relationships and sadly, young girls and boys are developing unrealistic visions of what love and respect for their body limits may look like. I’m sad for that. Truly. But that’s not what I am writing about or advocating.

My love life and relationship and even the family dynamics in my home have changed because I have expanded my sexual database (what a lame word-I can’t think of the right one for now this will have to do). My sexual repertoire! That’s the word.  Sex is healthy. Teens, heck, any kids need to know that their parents love each other and to see a heathy example of love in their daily life.  I love that I have invested into my imagination and dared to share this with my husband. He has risen to the challenge. My heart isn’t hardened but it’s safe to say that other things have been. Wink, wink.

Featured

Being a Writing Contradiction

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Writing has always been my favorite subject to teach. I love teaching kids all about authors through the stories they write. We study the authors, look at techniques they use to begin to write (often the hardest part) and we work on practicing writing. They pick up their pencil and write for x amount of time. Every day as an endurance challenge.  Once the kids lock into the writing time, they really do love it. I have seen dozens of packed notebooks full of stories to prove it. The idea is to write and never stop. Don’t. Lift. That. Pencil. When the buzzer rings, a mass gush of breath expels and the kids go around the room sharing their writing.

It doesn’t have to be good. It doesn’t have to make sense. It just has to be writing that has “thrown up from their head through their pencil lead onto the paper”. We call it zombie writing. That’s really what it feels like. A total trans. It may start with 45 seconds, maybe 4 minutes after a while. Eventually, my students can zombie write about the subjects that they have been writing about, or that interest them, for a good 45 minutes. Without interruptions.

That being said, I’ve been off work, not teaching for almost five months now for a ridiculous injury. Let’s say it was a clusterf@*k of bad luck and ridiculous decision making by everybody but me. It wasn’t just the kid that innocently decided to stick his leg out and have a little stretch while I walked forward to retrieve some papers from the carpet seats, thrusting me forward. It may have been the custodian or adult who put that damned rusted out chair up on the desk each day not noticing that the leg was clearly broken apart just waiting for that one idiot to sit on it…in a staff meeting.  What a freaking nightmare! Right in the middle of some serious conversation, I blurt out “Oh my GOD I’m MELTING! Something’s happening! Why am I sinking to the ground?”.

These five months could partly be due to the surgeon who couldn’t get over his ego to admit he forgot to contact my other doctors to verify post op pain management just before wheeling me back into surgery, postponing it three more weeks. Whatever the reason, I can’t work. So, turning a bright eye to the situation, I finally had the time to  become that writer I had always planned on becoming.

Let me clarify, it’s NOT that easy. It’s freaking painful to start writing! I know that if anyone can do it, I can do it.  I have to! I even got the “MOM’s ONLY!” laptop to do the job. So the job must be done. But I’ve gotta tell you, the questions and self doubt you start attacking yourself with when you fist sit down to write are incredulous…

“Who’s going to tell my story?”

“What’s going to happen to my Christian Values if I write the good stuff I really want to write?”

“How am I going to find my audience?”

“It’s way more fun to read about this stuff. ”

“OMG the freaking words you have to write to get a little info across to the reader! This is going to take forever.”

“I’m going to hell.”

After two painful hours I finished two chapters, each in a different point of view since I couldn’t decide and only 1500 words.

Lesson learned.

I should have followed that small print in the teacher manual that insisted that we teachers sit and write during the student’s writing time.  If I had, I am quite sure I wouldn’t be in this position of eye yoga as I glare at my monitor.  What a gift it would have been to have given to myself that time to build writing stamina! You can’t get in trouble if the teacher’s book tells you to do it.

For any of you out there with kids. Allow me to  give you an “I would if I could…” If you don’t have kids, good for you! Enjoy and take this time to build your own writing endurance.

Sit down with your kids or spouse, friend, your cat or by yourself.

Set a timer for one minute or so.

Write without stopping.

When the buzzer goes off, share.

Parents:  NEVER CORRECT their organic writing at this creative stage. EVER. That’s how you get a kid to shut down and hate to write. Put away that red pen.

Just watch what happens over time. This is free, can be done anywhere, and anytime.

Let me know in the comments below if you have experience with this or if you have tried it yourself. I’d love to hear if your kids develop an affinity towards writing.

XO,

Krissy J.