My process of journaling for you generally begins when we say good-bye at our cut off time. If I have not already chosen one, I ponder potential topics and begin mentally composing my entry for the evening.
Tonight was no different. I had tonight’s piece about half written. I sat at my desk and logged into chat with the intent of watching the room roll by while I wrote and there you were. You summoned me elsewhere. I got so wrapped up in conversation there that I lost not only what I had mentally written but the topic as well. There is no retrieving it. It went to my Hall of Lost Memories.
My internal editor isn’t doing her job. I don’t know what to do about it. I would fire her but that seems counterproductive. She seems to think that, when I’m with you, her services are not required. I’m not sure I agree. I try to do her job when she doesn’t but I’m not catching as much as I should. I hear things leaving my mouth and know I should stop them. I look at my editor and she shrugs, busily filing her nails, not even looking at me, as if to say Oh who cares? You’re going to tell Him everything eventually anyway. Let’s do it now. It’s more efficient. Don’t you think? It’s a tiny bit scary.
Something came out of my mouth (fingers? It was typed after all ..) tonight that I was surprised by. The moderator said: “They can’t be on their knees all the time.” I immediately thought “I am nearly always on my knees with Him.” and I said something like “being on one’s knees is an attitude.”
Like so many things I experience with you, I didn’t know I felt this way until it was out of my mouth. I love that! You make me think, and think hard, just by being in my life. It’s fantastic! (I digress.) I feel this way with you; that I am at your feet when we converse. It was not … is not always this way but it becomes more pronounced and more frequent each day, today especially. The physicality of being at your feet would underscore it, of course, but I am often there mentally.
I am at your feet when you are explaining a point. I am there when you tell me to hush. I am there when I feel your frustration with me. Perhaps most intriguing, I’m there when I’m trying so very hard to debate a point of discussion, to get you to hear me. I love that you allow me to be heard. That you value my voice. I don’t know why this makes me feel more submissive to you but it does, without question.
As frustrated as I get with the flow, more accurately the lack of flow in our conversations, I genuinely enjoy that you take them where you want. I am simultaneously frustrated/amused/irritated that you vacillate between fervently wanting my every word and casually dismissing me when I get too long winded. There is a feeling of “girl, I value your opinion but don’t get carried away. I’m still in charge here. Never forget it.” I adore this. I want more.
I keep waiting to be satiated. I keep waiting to feel like I don’t need you every second of every day. I keep waiting for the shiny newness to dull a bit. I keep waiting for you to need a break from me. I keep waiting for the sharpness of what I feel for you to wear off. I keep waiting for the time when logging out/ hanging up does not feel as though I’m hacking off a limb. I keep waiting but I’m pretty sure it’s never going to happen. That suits me just fine.