More stress

Many people think the idea, the possibility, of seeing into the future and to know what is to come is both amazing and awesome.  People want it.  People wish for it, and many Christians pray for the ability to be granted.  Those who are not Christian (or who are the good ol' fashioned Christian-during-holidays kind) turn to the darker "arts" of the mysterious universe to glean just a scrap of the ability.

As a child, I had no idea that I was able to see the future.  I sometimes wonder if Mom knew but decided to not tell me so I could live a normal life.  Some would say she should have been forthright; I will always thank her and bless her for letting me keep what shred of normality I had left to my identity.  As a teen, I started to piece together the puzzles; that my "de ja vus" was from last night's dream.  Or, most importantly, that my writing "spurts" in which I did nothing more than let my fingers etch over the paper while I completely blanked out (this both freaked out my friends and earned their respect for my writing craft) was not some sort of writing genius.  What I was "seeing" was not some incredible God-given plot idea, it was an actual encrypted vision of the future.

In college, I realized the my entire life had been building up to one moment, one man.  Marriage to Tristan, Prince of Gora.

But people often forget, as Mom sometimes forget and I am daily reminded, Tristan did not grow up amongst his people trained in the arts of being "blue-blood".  He grew up on Earth, with a regular family, in a world of simple agriculture and normal public school.  Instead of proper social etiquette expected of someone in his status, he learned how to shoot spitballs and throw eggs down a chimney.  Instead of world politics and intergalactic relations, he learned about Martin Luther King Jr. and the Gettysburg address.  Instead of what's expected from him as a royal, he learned what's expected of him as a red-blooded American man.

And instead of high school, he got four years of exile into the worst of our world.

So while I knew my entire life has been building up to the great event in the makings even as I write, in no part of the visions did I foresee my car getting repossessed.  Or our new home having a nearly-disintegrated-from-mold wall.  And I DEFINITELY did not know that I'd be giving him the last vestige of my virtue before the wedding and then subsequently suffering a horrible, terrible withdrawal for 5 months.

The stress has been enormous.  Part of me loathes the fact that I, a legitimately "normal" half-breed with zero expectations laid on me by anyone other than God and my mother, was raised to be a royal.  I sometimes loathe it because the actual royal who should have received all my training got to shoot spitballs and despite the weight of what half the intergalactic world expects from him, including a good chunk of this planet, he can sit outside, light up a cigarette and breathe in the morning air.

And this creates a tension between us that just.  Isn't.  Good.

I weep for the childhood filled with thou shalts and thou shalt nots, even if it did make public relations easier for me.  Sit up straight, pronounce clearly, write exactly like this 500 times until you're legible (that is no exaggeration; as a punishment for not doing my homework I had to write "I will do my math homework" literally 500 times.  As much as I hated it, I did write like an adult from 5th grade on).  What you do greatly affects what people think of you; what people think of you greatly affects what happens in your life.  Do not lead others to believe you to be doing wrong.  Only do what is appropriate in God's eyes so the public knows they can trust you.

Because, who knows, someday you may meet and marry some guy who will one day rule the oldest human civilization in the universe.  And they need to know you're totally comfortable at a formal place setting for supper.

Maybe the worst of the stresses is the lack of Nicks.  God knows (literally, I've spent days and nights praying for some miracle that the wrong guy was killed) that I miss Nicks.  All the stresses and weight of expectations were lifted whenever he emailed me and let me know we're doing good.  That I'm doing good. It meant so much to be reminded by him that no matter what hell came our way, no matter how much I sucked at whatever I attempted to do, he still believed in me.  And I truly feel, deep down in my heart, that he still had faith in us even to the very last moment of his life.

People will tell me that the only approval I need comes from God.  And I know that no matter what, God is always with me, on my side, cheering me on and standing up for me.  As someone once told me, "Wow!  God definitely shows you His favor!"

Don't get me wrong, nothing could be more amazing than that.  But sometimes we, being human, need something tangible.  We need someone to physically give us that same approval.

And....well....when the father of the man I'm about to marry took a bullet for me, stood up for me when no one would, and constantly reassured me that we're doing everything right.....it just made life that much easier to handle.

So I guess you could say that a HUGE chunk of the stress in our life now is knowing that deep, deep down, in the parts of our beings that no one else ever touches, we want to rip apart limb from limb the people who stole him from us.

Comfort

Yesterday I woke up before 9am, when my alarm was scheduled to go off.  I couldn't go back to sleep, even after a quick trip to the bathroom, so I went out to the living room to lounge on the couch and surf the net, maybe do some wedding planning.  I shut off my alarm so Tristan could sleep in, as he's been tired lately and recovering from a few nights ago.

A few minutes after I'd snuggled under a blanket and propped open my laptop, I heard movement in our bedroom.  The bed creaked, I heard Tristan tug on his jeans, and then he shuffled out to the kitchen.  I thought he'd go have a smoke outside, but instead he continued to shuffle over to the living room.  He picked up my feet, sat down on the couch with me, tucked my legs under his arms and fell back asleep.  Just like that.

It was THE CUTEST thing that day for me!  I couldn't help but grin and feel thoroughly loved.  Later last night I told him about it and he gave me this sweet little smile and he said he remembered doing that.  Apparently he missed me.  :)

This morning has been a similar tune.  While Tristan got up before me, I was also awake and wanted to do some work online to (hopefully) build a better at-home income for us.  He went outside in the strong winds to have a smoke, then came back in and sat down next to me.  Now his head is on my shoulder and he's snoring rather loudly.  It makes me happy to know I'm so comfortable.  :D

Not much else is going on.  I start cosmetology school in less than a week and a half, which is exciting!  Finally, an actual career that I will thoroughly enjoy and I can control the hours I work in it.  Tristan has been applying for better jobs, since his current one barely breaks the three-digit mark a month.  He's also been working on his memoir, which I wholeheartedly believe will one day be a bestseller.  I've read the first chapter and dang, is it good!

Randomness

Tristan has been reminding me to write.  A lot.  So, here is an updated post for you, my love.

I love our new home, the best part of it being in how it's actually ours.  No rental restrictions, no rules other than basic legal and societal regulations.  No roommates, something that I am ever grateful for.  The only roommate I want or need is the amazingly sexy man sleeping in our bed right now.

He's been bugging me to write because so much has happened, and we need to document it in this epic saga of the prince of Gora and his lady of maybe-Atlantis.  The jury is still out on that one; while the cradle of my mother's bloodline is certainly not from the Atlantic Ocean so therefore is not Atlantean, even the secular world of anthropology states that the islanders of her understood tribe came from the Sea of Japan, although how is not written.  So long story short, we've kinda nicknamed her the "Lady of the Sea" and I'm the "Lady of Earth and Sea" since my father is most undoubtedly of the lush green forests and rich earth.

Anyhow, I digress.....

It's hard to believe that this time a year ago, Tristan and I were at each other's throats in an ongoing barrage of verbal abuse and accusations.  To be honest, I easily forget about the crap that went on between us because....well, it's difficult to realize it ever actually happened.  Tristan is who I'd always believed him to be, loving and compassionate and strong.  When I'm cooking in our new kitchen, he'll slip up behind me and wrap his arms around my waist.  I LOVE that.  Or when he nuzzles me, or pulls me close just to spend a few moments kissing me and he whispers, "I could kiss you all day...."

I wish I could write more right now, but I really need to go take a bath and get all pretty so Tristan has a beautiful woman to wake up to in the morning. ;)