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.