"Return to Tender"

Without vision and without hope, death is certain to follow. I don’t mean death death. The only way to beat death death is through a living faith. But in many aspects of life we die a thousand times in a thousand different ways because of a lack of vision and the absence of hope. Our sense of family dies if we don’t have a vision of who we are as a family along with the hope of accomplishing it. Our friendships die if we don’t have a vision of what kind of friend we are along with the hope of becoming that kind of friend. Same with fitness. Who works out without a vision and a hope for what it will accomplish, how it will make you feel and what you will look like? Without vision and hope important aspects of life are as perishable as sirloin in the summer sun.

SugarAnne is coming out of it now, but over the past few days she has been in a fog of funk as thick as a kettle of unstirred split pea soup. I don’t know whether it was perimenopausal power surges or butt demon nicotine urges, but the “foulest stench was in the air: the funk of forty thousand years”. The last few days has been no “Thriller” for either of us.

For me it has been a fearful reminder of our B.S. (before spanking) days when SugarAnne was battling depression. She would too often disappear into this thick fog of funk. I would try to feel my way through it hoping to see a glimpse of friendship and feel some semblance of a relationship. But the lack of vision would sometimes cause me to misstep and I would slip into my own trough of moodiness. In those days the only hope we had was that we might rest for a moment on some plain of normalcy between the long and deep valleys of depression. When she did “come back”, the hills of bliss just didn't seem worth the climb. All I could see in the future was another bout with this fog of funk that was surely right down the line. I could not see our friendship. I could not feel our relationship. I had no vision and I felt I had no hope.

This affected our relationship in a profoundly negative ways. She would sometimes suddenly reappear out of one of those bouts with the joy of a kid turned loose in a chocolate factory. Only to be met with my own reactive fog of funk. When she "returned" I would be bitter, resentful and angry not only because she had "left" (as if she had any control), but also because she expected me to immediately jump for joy like a munchkin celebrating the sudden death of the most wicked witches. And maybe I should have been jumping for joy. To not is a lot like blaming your woman her for her monthly (of which she has no control), and then refusing to have sex with her when it's gone because she hadn’t been available for a week. I mean, why have sex? She’s only gonna have her period again right? (Yeah, I know, I know, I jump for joy then don't I? Shut the hell up.)

But I've noticed that “this thing we do” has had an affect on me. When there is a fog of funk TTWD has helped me see beyond that fog. It has given me a clearer vision for our relationship. And it has given us hope for the future. So now, I’ve noticed, when Sugaranne goes into a now rare fog of funk, I’m actually able to help. And two very lengthy, very firm, very loving "die for you" stress relief spankings this week (her stress not mine) can attest to that. But more importantly, I’m noticing, when she “returns” to me out of a fog of funk she's not being met with the cold shoulder of my own fog of funk. She's not being met with anger because I don't feel angry. She's not being met with resentment because I don't feel resentful. She's not being met with bitterness because I don't-feel-bitter. When she returns to me she returns to a friend, and a husband, and a lover who has clearer vision of who we are - and a firm grip on a hope that was absent - but is now everpresent.

When she returns to me, she returns to something tender.