It is unbelievable what having two hours to myself did.
I can't believe how I felt and feel now.
Things aren't so gloomy and doomy.
And I get to see that, some of our life is how it ever was and I get to catch glimpses of where it might be, someday.
I went shopping.
Xmas shopping for Him but it was two hours where I thought my own thoughts and interacted with other people.
I got to drink a latte.
And I ate fries.
I might have bought a second latte. < And on the subject of Xmas...He says I do this every year (thrash and pout about it). Until it gets closer and my slaveling heart grows ten more sizes...Its my introvert way of dealing with the madness. >
Where I got to contemplate life outside of the Hovel and Baby Bleu and realized how drained I had been feeling, how low my well was.
I got to aimlessly wander around.
And whatever I came home with is pretty dreadful.
But it was two hours to just be.
I need more of this--I don't mean the literal two hours, that so is not always possible which is why it happens so very rarely.
We went through so much this year.
But we went through so many changes in the past two months.
We just didn't have a chance to catch our breath.
We are the same as we ever were. We both just require more space to be. Because we are both giving more of ourselves to other beings and places.
There is a thing or two that glitters through, even in the lows.
I put on the stupid cuff even though I despise it.
I need more.
We need more.
Space for us.
The hardest part for me, in those first days with Baby Bleu was not being able to see past the immediate needs.
And therefore, not being able to see past that hour or day.
That's why I fretted so much over the dishes and the meals--I knew none of that mattered but I needed to answer the question of "WHEN will I be able to?" function again.
When will the pain stop?
When will I want to be touched again?
When will I be able to cook?
When will I be able to see my family?
When will I be able to sleep next to my husband?
The litany was endless, absolutely endless and the idea of not being able to do anything that used to make up our normal sent waves of panic through me.
I sent Him to see the movie tonight.
He was happy.
He gets bunkered down and closed in too and sometimes needs a push to not work that evening and a reminder that I can handle everything here.
So tonight, while I was nursing Baby Bleu to sleep, I caught my mind in mid-thought.
I started to think of the thing that maybe I could do.
Maybe next year, I could finish that course.
Maybe I could start school.
Maybe I could find something to do with all the new child/maternal wellness info I've researched and learned and been immersed in this past year\
Maybe I could do something work thing something again
Maybe, maybe I can find something that makes me feel passionate again.
Today was good.
It had all the elements needful for a harmonious. peaceful day.
There was enough balance, enough needs being met.
There was enough space for all of us.
How do we get that balance and fine mix to carry us through with any consistency? I don't know.
But I think He is working on it.
I don't need "me" time.
But it is about making space.
I need space for me.
And that is the biggest difference or change, I think in a way.
Before, I could carry on and charge on without space for me...I was getting enough to fill that well. Now, it requires more filling and more space.
But today was good. Cœur qui soupire n'a pas ce qu'il désire, c'est vrai.
I hate Christmas. And Santa,
Mostly Christmas because it invovles Santa and people.
And no. No oh no no no,
But if by some fuckin Christmas miracle He does manage to force me into going to the inlaws and some relative is dressed up as fuckin Santa Claus, I will leave.
You do not get to scare my child because it amuses you.
Kinda the same way you don't get to hand him sugar or a fuckin potato chip because you don't understand my far out parenting choices that involve not scaring or giving my child junk.
And Christ on a bike they got a new puppy.
Some people just shouldn't have dogs.
Some people shouldn't have two dogs.
No, no the puppy is not cute.
The wagging tail is not always friendly. Fuck, can you not google a goddamn thing?!
And yes, we aren't doing the Santa Claus thing.
That much lying to my child will kill me.
Just get over it.
I hate Christmas. I really, really hate Christmas.
There is no chocolate or alcohol in this Hovel. That's a problem.
And my day was already sucking major before everything that happened that inspired this post happened.
Over the weekend, I was reading up on things that can impact your health and I read about sleep debt.
Apparently its a real thing and you can and do incur sleep debt.
After a year of being sleep deprived, I can believe it. I can also believe that lack of sleep makes everything function a little less than normal rates.
Last night for the first time in the longest, I got six hours of being uninterrupted.
I feel kind of amazing.
We slept in which means that the night will be long but I really don't care because I try to catch sleep however I can.
I get why people "train" their offspring to sleep. Wouldn't do it, its not something that we are comfortable with but I so get it. And despite everything, we have been on the same parenting pages.
Which is good. Has to make life easier.
But it takes so much to parent in this gentle, responsive way, it takes so much thought and effort and deep breaths and self-control that my patience tank for anything else in life has ran rather low.
I get why this isn't for everyone. Glad its for us. But totally get why its not for everyone.
Just because we are on the same page with how to parent it doesn't mean we are always on the same page with every decision made.
On FetLife, every now and then there is a discussion on how to make it work now that you have a baby on the way. Most of those who respond admit that the ttwd came after the kids. But some insist that nothing should change. You still follow him and the relationship is still as it was.
For us, that just hasn't been the case.
Having a baby changed me.
Having a baby also changed him.
And did it ever change him.
He is high strung these days.
He is quick tempered.
He has and shows emotions.
My calm, cool, collected husband is missing.
He hurls hurtful words at me, that gets me on the defence and then when I respond in a defensive raising my voice way, he points to me and says, 'you're yelling'."
We had an argument yesterday, while running errands.
He said he was tired.
I might have responded with "so sorry you got to out last night."
And then he told me he hasn;t heard the end of it.
Which wasn't true.
I don't complain about how tired I am, even with the lack of sleep.
He does, but he gets more sleep than I do, so really it does get my hackles raised when he comments with "I'm tired." Awesome.
In truth, I felt totally left out of his thing.
He then said that he's happy Monday to Friday. And on Saturday morning. But by Saturday afternoon he wishes the weekend was over and he was away from me.
So incredibly hurtful. I am still hurt over those words.
And he wonders why I don't want to put up Christmas decorations? Really? (Or make cookies. Or buy gifts. Or do anything. Mostly its because its just extgra stuff added to my list that I can't find room for now).
Having a baby changed things.
I don't know if I have any respect for him anymore. I find it hard to respect people who use my emotions against me.
Some days I wonder if I actually love him or if I am just used to being here and kick myself for not having a good, built up plan B.
I know he misses being the centre of my world.
My first thought used to be, "How can I make life easier for him?" And now its "How can I make it through the day in one piece?" I know he misses being in control but he's acting like a big bully who isn't getting his way and I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that. It just kind of sucks.
I miss things too.
I miss walking down the street alone.
I miss hanging out with friends alone.
I miss having a clean house.
And I really miss sleep.
I know this post sounds bad.
Its the first time I have had to decompress from the weekend.
And its things that have been eating me up. So here, it is.
This week? I get all the feels.
And? Good gods, it looks like we are going to make it.
There might have been kinkery fuckery.
It was okay.
He wanted it.
I complied--apparently, I can still do that.
It was pretty fuckin awesome, actually.
Even with the breath play.
He was cutting off my air supply, when the thought went through my mind of, "Oh riiiigiht. That's a thing we do."
Once upon a time, breath play was on my list of hard limits. And because it was a limit, He of course railroaded it, until as evident, I could no longer recall why it was a limit.
Other than I'm fond of breathing.
I liked the fear it spiked and he liked my fear.
Yeah, it was good.
I'm trying to stay in the moment.
I am trying to pay attention to what he wants.
I'm trying to meet his needs, moment to moment.
I am trying to just breath.
I need to get better at managing my own stress levels and not reacting.
Its been a year since our last dinner out together.
Its so surreal.
I was expecting this flood of emotion but I wasn't quite prepared for all the wonderful, sweet memories that are flooding my receptors. I like it.
MC, as she often does, offered a comment that made me pause on the last post.
" Could you see the mama thing as being part of the wife/slave thing? I mean, you're nurturing his child. That's a pretty big service you're giving there,no?! Now I know you do it for the sake of the baby himself, but there might be an aspect of doing at his behest too? maybe he could see it that way, too? maybe he already sees it that way?"
Huh. I don't think I ever really saw the two things entwined that way before.
Tell me friends...if those roles are there for you, how does it play out for you?
I am certain that *He* sees it this way.
He has been so stressed lately. His stress got to me, this time.
He made dinner last night. It was a huge deal because it was one chore off my list.
And you know, he made dinner. That's nice.
My energy levels are so low at night.
One of my blog readers, RM sent me a few links on how postpartum issues can flare and be worse at night. Night, has been challenging.
He is stressed and when he stresses, he has a tendency to close off.
I need more these, days. But so does he.
I need more tell. You see child rearing as part of service? Then tell me. You want me to share my latte? Then say so.
He needs more show. He wants me to do it all, without him having to say a word. And I just don't have the energy to be his mindreader.
I know its a shift. Anticipatory service was such a big thing, ever present in our relationship.
We all have days, right? He reminded me last night, of all the very good days we have had and have and how when we falter and hit bottom, how awful it feels--it feels that way because the norm is the total opposite.
Our highs are really, really good and our lows are really, really icky.
There are many days, where I feel we have this and I can do this. Then there are moments where I want to cry. Sometimes I do.
If I can't know what happens every single moment of the day--which would be my ideal--I want....I long for consistency.
You know the whole thing about penetration causing me massive amounts of pain? I swear it has gotten worse.
We had sex this morning.
I think it took about five hours for the burning, stabbing, acute pain to subside and I seriously thought I was going to faint during the act.
This isn't kinky. It just kind of sucks.
And I would like to have sex without it hurting, maybe just one time.
Yeah. I know. I should probably go see someone about it. But that's not going to happen any time soon.
And hey, I've been instructed to shop for a new vibrator. Suggestions on type/brand?
I'm trying to act like a grown-up and finding it increasingly difficult.
Also low on sleep. Which doesn't help anything.
We go through this every so often. Its the nature of his work. But this time, it feels much more stressful.
And even though, I keep telling myself that every time we weather this storm, it does lead us to a better, improved place, its not helping. There are insecurities, then there is the mothership of insecurity and its a huge fuckin ship.
We suspected things with this job would change.
I looked a few months back, reported back and prayed we did enough to tie the ship down.
Not so much.
He used to trust my intuition. He used to joke it was one of the reasons why he kept me around. He used to act on the knowledge my insights gave.
I knew this was coming.
And I wish we were better prepared.
We aren't. And I feel its a precarious situation that could have been avoided.
I don't know what's going to happen next.
I hate that.
I can't summon the necessary dose of optimism to keep buoyant and he's angry at me for that. He doesn't understand that this is a shaken faith thing, that is clawing at my very deep, deeply rooted insecurities and I just can't roll with it as easily now.
He wants me to trust him.
Its not him,
Its the fear of not making it, of not having, of lacking, of coming up short, of not getting ahead, of not doing all the cool things that we planned for. Its the raging fears of not being able to succeed of not being able to fulfill needs and wants.
Its a huge, huge fuckin mothership.
He wants me to be optimistic.
He spotted something that would be so cool, it would be a dream for him and he went for it.
And I want it for him so badly.
But he doesn't think I'm being optimistic enough.
But I was supportive.
I just didn't have the energy to fling my heart out on this one.
I think I am just tired.
Tired of chasing the dreams and having so little.
And I really hate not knowing what is going to happen next.
Him tying up other girls, is so much easier to deal with than this one.
I wish...we were somewhere else.
But we're not.
And I don't want to be a grown-up about it.
I might have been slow to catch the crash yesterday, but I tried to help us reset. that has to be some kind of progress.
We had a nice dinner.
Baby Bleu was up forever, because that's life right now and I'm totally okay with it but sometimes its a little wearing.
I shooed him off to the gym.
Because I can do that, shoo.
Maybe months ago I would have been more passive about that but last night, I fully shooed, "get out of here, go".
And I was reminded as the last dregs of stress lifted for this round, that it doesn't have to be all or nothing.
That is such a hard concept for me to grasp and one I have struggled with for years. In pursuit of anything, I will throw myself against the rocks, pour my whole self into it and do it over and over again, because there isn't another way in my mind.
Though, this is something He has helped me with and these days, I am able to choose where I put my energies better.
But so often, I want all. And I think all means throwing all of me into the mix and it doesn't. It doesn't have to be that way.
It occurred to me, that I have been asking my Mate for things, just to see what he would say.
I didn't realize I had developed this habit, until I paid attention to the dialogue I was using. Again, testing, yes, but not in a manipulative-on-purpose kind of way.
So much of what I wanted didn't happen.
But when it didn't go as planned eleven months ago, I also felt a sharp loss of my voice. What I wanted didn't matter. I also lost something that I have relied on for years; that surety of the mind-body connection.
And this was tied to him in so many ways.
He believed that I could do it. He was right there with me. He was amazing support. And has been for this entire year.
But for years, I have looked to him to decide, to guide, to take and give. I've relied on him.
And somehow, that trust I had in him, was also shaken.
Maybe its because he didn't protect me from my worse fears being manifested.
I'm not blaming him.
I don't blame him.
So maybe for all these months, I've been asking him for this and that just to know where those lines are. Just to see how far I can extend that trust. Just to see if he would come through. Just to see if what I want does matter.
It does matter, as much as he gives that particular thing weight but what he wants matters too, matters most in fact and I have to do a better job of acting on that and putting aside the litany of asking him, just to see what he will say.
I can do that.
Yesterday was hard for us, because we had a bundle of really good weeks. I think we are finding our balance.
We always do reset. "How many camels do you think I'm worth?" "I have to look up the market value of a camel".
Waves and crashes, this healing thing happens.
And today I crashed. Totally.
There was no discernible thing that brought it on, other than timing.
Right after Baby Bleu was born, in those first few weeks, the PPTSD manifested in a few different ways.
I needed the baby close to me. If the baby wasn't in my sight or on me, I would panic. Seriously: babywearing saved my sanity.
As soon as I put the baby to nap and stepped away, I would cry, because suddenly my mind would race and fill in all the details of what had happened with the birth and the feelings of loss and grief and regret and rage would swirl around.
Today, while putting baby down to nap, I was just watching him, in that way you do and felt that panicky sensation run over me. But I didn't catch it for awhile and went on and did other things...until it all caught up to me in a tangle bed of stress symptoming.
Its often through the lens we view that changes so much.
I hate that this year has been so rough.
I loathe the fact that it has been so hard on my mate.
He wants to have a party. Fine. We will do that. Cool.
I'll just stay out of his way.
I can do that.
In so many ways, this year has been so incredible.
And amazing. And magical. And beautiful.
He is going out tonight.
To play with rope.
To tie up other girls.
I am reaching for calm, slave thoughts.
Thoughts of compersion.
Silencing the insecure-wife-thoughts.
I know I have written on here before about my thoughts on poly.
I get it on an intellectual level. I get it because of how I can fall in love in truly platonic ways--I get it as much as I can get it.
Jealousy, is a learnt behaviour.
I have never understood jealousy.
I do understand insecurity.
Insecurity, happens with breaks in faith.
And tonight, I am trying to let go and trust.
He has always had more faith than I.
My cynic can't be dimmed.
This particular event, is really no big deal.
But its the first time, in such a long time.
On the other hand, it is a huge deal because...
He is testing.
He has faith that I am ready.
That I can hold steady.
That I am healed enough, emotionally stable enough, to be able to flow with this.
We talked ad nauseam about this.
I needed to hear why it was important to him.
I needed to feel his anticipation, his joy, why he wants this...and more.
Because we have suspected, for a number of years, that one day, the longing for more, on his side, would be a subject that would have to be broached.
I needed to hear how it wasn't a reflection of me.
Its not that I'm not enough.
He wants this experience.
He wants more.
In the end, I needed to hear, that I was just property.
He can go out and do this and I can deal with it.
He is trusting me to deal with it.
That I won't flip out later tonight, or tomorrow or the next day.
That I won't hold this over him.
This is him, filling up his own well.
He needs me to let this happen and not stand in his way.
It's kind of infectious and domino-effect at times.
And sometimes, I sound perfectly sane when I lay out a crazy scheme.
He sees no harm in it and will come along.
He reins in my chaos. My chaos that fuels that momentum of the fast-moving train.
We were pretty tired.
So when I moved the place of a pan or two, it all seemed innocent.
When I told him, I had to reorganize the kitchen cupboard for my sanity, it seemed linear.
He said okay, but just that particular cupboard.
But you know...you move one thing...and you have to move the other thing.
Chaos puts up a good fight to have its way.
And the last time I felt compelled to rearrange the kitchen? Well, lets not say it outloud. Seriously, lets not.
So we might have been a little caught up in that thought.
Next thing you know, the entire contents of my pantry and all the cookery and baking stuff is all over the counters. Cupboards are stripped and bared and now we've realized that oh...this is just too much for my still overwhelmed left brain to handle.
He probably should have rein it in a little harder.
I should have listened to him, back when he told me just one cupboard.
I should have paid attention.
But I foraged ahead.
Now I am left with a total pulled apart kitchen.
He's slightly unhappy.
But we will laugh about this (later...much later) and we will put things back together again in their new places or old slots and we will go on.
Cleaned the cabinets, counters, floors. Wiped down mirrors and scrubbed the kitchen and bathroom.
Because...the Hovel is empty.
He and Baby Bleu are out together.
Having a perfectly fantastic time.
And I'm here kind of loosing my mind....a little bit.
Went for a walk.
Even the Venti Six Pump Pumpkin Spice Latte didn't quell my nervous.
This is the longest Baby Bleu and I have been parted...
I keep telling myself, "He's with daddy not an oger...."
You know, it didn't help that much.
There is a thread on Fet right now about what to do when one's Master triggers that fight or flight response.
I wrote out a whole long reply to it, then deleted it.
The effects of trauma definitely triggers my fight or flight response. Before, I would say that I was more likely to flight, doing that dear in the headlights thing before my brain caught up and I regulated my own emotions. Or He did.
There were even times before, where His sadist tendencies, wanted to get that emotional boiling over response from me. He wanted me to loose control. He wanted me to be a nuclear explosion. He did it because He could control it. Nowadays, we lightly skim the edges of this kind of play. I wonder if we will ever be able to play with that kind of emotional sadism again. It hurts me that we can';t because it was something that lent an intensity to our dynamic that is missing.
Now, I am all fight.
Something with trigger me, I'll have the stress reaction and I will fight as if a wounded animal.
It is better now.
But there are still moments where this happens.
Where I loose it and lash out and fight.
And I hate it.
I hate that I can see Him as a predator, I hate that I can feel as if He is out to harm me.
Because nothing is further from the truth.
But within that emotional storm, the only thing I know is what the stress reaction has caused me to see.
Its happening less frequently now but happened just this past week.
I am currently reading Jacqueline Carey's Dark Currents. It took me a few chapters to get into it and honestly, if I wasn't author loyal I probably would have skipped it. But in the book, there are ghouls. Ghouls feed on emotions to sustain themselves--so yeah kind of a take on the vampric character--and all I could think of was how I wish I had a ghoul.
It would be nice, if in the moments of these toxic emotional maelstroms that I am still experiencing, some well dressed, well mannered, harley riding manservant calmly ate all of the emotion I was spinning out...where the hell are the emotional vampires when you need them, eh?
He used to be the balm to my angry vibes.
He used to be able to quell my raging storms, with a single word.
I used to go to Him with the waters of my troubled soul.
Back when the emotions were a little above level--because I'm an emotional being--not like now.
Not like now at all.
For the most part, we are content. There is harmony. There is even some of our old normal coming back into play.
But for the times when the lows are really low and I am in a triggered emotional toxic soup, a ghoul would be oh so helpful.
There has been kinkery.
Here and there.
When we can fit it in.
But its not.
We flow better.
Almost like before.
He still hasn't tried all the toys out.
But there has been rough play and hard use.
And I haven't fallen apart.
Over the last couple of months, it feels like He has been reclaiming me. Reclaiming us. He has been putting me exactly where He wants me. He wants more of me. He wants me to endure, to take more, to stretch myself more, to accommodate more...and you know what, as it turns out? I can dig deeper.
I can give more.
While He is taking more...
I am longing for more.
More hard use.
I want that proof of his words--that is what I crave more than anything. Show me.
I can't quite let that go.
I don't know if I have to.
He fucked me and used me and flogged me.
He beat me and took me and spat on me and forced me.
Then, He wrote on me.
I am often his canvas.
He told me, He is taking all of me.
I am His.
All of me.
Even the ugly parts.
The really, horrible ugly parts that I have slave guilt over in the fog of the postpartum period, the ugly parts that reared their heads that I still have nightmares about.
But, as He reminded me, it is not my job to beat myself up.
All of me.
Including the scar I wish wasn't there.
There may be acceptance.
But I don't think the questions will ever leave my mind.
Why? Did we do everything we could? Was this the only choice? Was it really the best choice?
What if we had waited longer? I wish we had waited longer.
I wish I had said to cervix checks.
I wish I hadn't called the midwife so soon.
I wish I had said no.
I wish I had consulted one more person.
I wish it hadn't happened that way....
But...my problem is always that I will exhaust all outcomes, I will look under each stone...so when a decision is made, a lot of the time my barrier to acceptance of that decision is not the outcome or the decision but the fact that not every, possible stone was overturned.
Because when I think back to that night in December when I can silent the should haves and what what have beens, I come back truths. He was at my side. Beside him, was the other best person I know.
When I don't or can't trust myself, these are the people I trust.
And that is what silences the quest of questions and brings me back to acceptance.
When I get loud and vocal about it, when I get angry and upset about it, He holds me or beats me, and reminds me, I am His.
We have a standing appointment on Fridays.
He takes Baby Bleu to an activity (or as I like to call it 'Circle Hel) and I go and browse the bookshop for an hour.
This week has been stressful.
Up and down.
I have had no time.
He's been under extra stress.
Which made me feel his stress, extra.
I didn't realize he was stressed until it was too late.
Our communication isn't the way of old, but it is so much better, now that the fog of postpartum has lifted.
Despite the stress, there has been peace. And I have tried to keep my cool.
I was triggered twice this week.
But the reactions? So much better. Manageable.
So you know, its been a week.
Not perfect, but good days, even with the helping of extra stress.
Baby Bleu has a routine, not a schedule.
We follow his cues.
There is no set feeding time or bedtime.
We go with the flow.
Except for Fridays.
Because of the standing appointment.
Fridays we have to get up earlier.
Which really means, I have to get up. I get up early, the house follows suit.
Or..He gets up early, gets me up early.
"Early" means by 9am.
I know, horrible deal.
We did not wake up early today.
Which means, nap time is going to be smack dab in middle of standing appointment.
I said, we aren't going to go.
Pointed out that Baby Bleu will nap after, or while they are there, either way, we are all going.
I said no.
He laughed, told me to get on with it.
He said we are going.
So we are going.
I know we are going.
I protested, loudly.
Went through the motions, of course I did.
Because he said we are going and I still obey.
Just with a helping of snark and loud protestations.
Its not the same. I am not quiet in my protests, I vent often and loudly.
Sometimes he lets me.
Other times he tells me to be quiet and suck it up.
Sometimes I mange to duct tape myself. Mostly, I mumble.
But it is still doing what he wants.
It is still obeying.
Not always 'how' he wants, but it is there, evidence of my slavehood in effect.
In a comment on greengirl's post, I wrote that her post made me envious for before.
You know, before Baby Bleu.
And it did.
Just for a moment,
But I love her post so much because it shows the maturation of a relationship in glimpses and it was actually one thing that did make me miss before times. It was kind of nice to feel nostalgic.
It really doesn't happen often. I really love his mama gig.
There has been so much good in this last year. He reminds me often, when I am swimming in the loud dark thoughts of reflecting on that last trimester of pregnancy and the first bit of when Baby Bleu landed, that they were only moments.
Horrible, awful, ugly moments, but moments, Just moments.
This time, in this part of life, the good has definitely tipped the scales.
We are coming to find balance again.
More to write on the impact...but you know, my attention is being called away..
He is a stupid, bastard narcissist and today I was really, really mad at him.
He even said I had cause to be mad at him. Kind of out of the normal when one of those long standing codes of conduct was that I wasn't allowed to be mad at him.
But I was so madz.
Still kind of storming and stewing.
Because he did hurt me.
In the emotional way.
In the way that every now and then causes me to wonder if this is a healthy relationship.
Doesn't much matter.
Not like there is anything I can do.
I may claw at the walls of my cage, but it is a cage and I'm in it and there is little I can do about that.
So...in other news...writing.
The well opened up and sprung forth an idea. Yea! IDEA. But it turns out, I can;t write. My opening lines suck, my plot sucks and I can't do this. Next time, I am going to ask the well for a damn instruction manual.
I said something.
Might have been a little grumpy.
Might have been a little out of sorts.
Might have been a little close to the edge.
His hand, back of my neck, pressing me down. Fast.
Before the next words in my mouth could tumble out.
"Think. Are you making an actual contribution or are you acting out?" Gods.
Calling me on it.
I might have admitted to the pushing of buttons.
"Why? Is there something you wanted?"
A magic wand.
A solution to all the damn problems.
The first two.
He did those.
Got an hour of kinkery fuckery, with breath play and forced orgasms followed by a round of forced penetration and a really good dose of beating on my lady parts.
So not much of anything I liked.
He liked it very much.
That's all that mattered.
There is a lot of talk on FetLife about how, nothing in this Universe should change or alter how your relationship is..if you are an M/s then nothing in life changes the dynamic.
And I get that line of thinking to a certain extent--I might have even been guilty of thinking that way back when we first decided to take our kink out of the bedroom--I thought it was, well set.
But surrendering and being his slave has always been a process...its like little bits of me being constantly, consistently rearranged to accommodate the very big Him and the parts of me that he has taken that have morphed into us.
Can't keep surrendering the same thing if it isn't there. And sorry, but life has changed me.
It changed when we went through the first job loss.
Few things are harder on a man than going through something that devalues his worth...or what he thinks is his worth.
It changed when we cared for an ill relative.
It grew deeper when we lost loved ones.
It ebbed and flowed when he decided where we were going to live, again and again and again.
Our relationship definitely grew another dimension when we went through the second job loss.
He was stronger, his faith unshakable. My trust in his ability to provide had already been proven.
With every crisis, we got better at riding the storms.
We are brilliant at clinging to what are the essential things: Us. those we count as family. What we want. What we really need, which always boils down to each other.
Throughout this all though, I have been his.
His to do with what he wants..but and this is a key point,his to give and use as he sees fit. I was happy with the left over resources that he gave me.
So after his needs are met, mine were.
After he had taken his full, I scraped together free time and filled my own well, as he counted on me to do so.
He used me how and when and where he wanted and I was fine with that.
And chasing after his dreams, was enough for me because I still had something always in the background..those scrapes of free time, I always made the most of.
His wants and needs were mine.
But with the pregnancy, suddenly I wanted his attention, in an emotional way. Man has never been great at that emotional level. Suddenly I couldn't focus on him as complete as we were used to me focusing on him and I couldn't meet all his needs.
I was also hormonal with a side of crazy.
Then the birth.
Key point: Somewhere in those days of labour and the birthing, where I felt amazing and supported, I also felt like me.
Like truly, truly me.
Me. Me. Me.
The essence of who I was, before He came along and swallowed me, claimed me as His.
Then that glimpse of me, that knowledge of Self, was ripped away again when I became mama. There is no self in motherhood.
But I had waved at it.
And when I was reconnected to me in those few moments, I realized how much I had not been me or been His version of me.
I liked being His. I am His.
But in the postpartum period, all I could think of was that me and how I wasn't it and couldn't get back to that wholeness.
I wanted my needs met in an attempt to reconnect to the whole self. I wasn't interested in meeting his needs nor could I with the offspring that demanded all of my soul.
But it also demanded all of his soul.
I wasn't in this parent thing alone--even though I felt like that often because I was consumed. So yes.
Birth and mamahood changed me.
I felt differently.
So how He interacted with me, at times his partner, at times a wounded animal that he carefully and cautiously approached, at times his mate, at times a stranger unrecognizable in a maze of fog and pain, changed.
How could we cling to what we had before, when life caused us to grow? Or maybe it is my curse of being the wounded healer that shakes us up and insists on living the fullness of these cycles.
He was living a perfectly normal, uncrazy life before he met me.
I read through Fet and I respond to discussions through this odd lens of Then Vs. Now and I interact with Him, more like his mate these days, but we still have moments where I am whiny and needy and clingy and it shocks us both.
Then Vs. Now and as the now changes and unfolds, I don't know which one is winning.
I have always felt there wasn't a power exchange in M/s as much as it is a give.
I give. He takes and in doing so, gives back to me and continues to rearrange the pieces I had given over to him.
Being his slave, taught me to swallow my emotion and not react, not go off screaming into the night.
Being owned by him, meant accepting his imperfections and not having my own wants or needs be forefront.
But some days, in this Now, I want what I want and I am consumed by the need for attention and self-expression and I feel everything now as if I am in an empath's worst nightmare, as if it is day one all over again. Now, I want to matter.
Then, it was only important that He mattered.
He will sort it out but yes, it is different now than it was then.
I wish I could write.
I wish I could summon ideas that burst from my mind.
I wish my hand demanded to scrawl them out across the page.
I wish fictional worlds kept me up at night.
I wish I could discover the passion I once had....but it eludes me time and time again.
It leaves me frustrated.
Its part of this caged mind, I feel.
And it is part of the resentment...because as much as he might have been my target for the angry vibes, the resentment really lies in not always accepting what I have become. I am angry for the allowance of becoming his at times because I have given up a lot more than I bargained for.
I wish I could just write.
I wish I had never lost that outlet, in pouring my heart into his creativity, in pouring my soul into his dream, I wish we had kept a little space for my own.
He's been taking me back to him.
Giving me nothing, demanding everything.
My head on his lap. His hand on my head.
Sometimes, my cheek pressed into his thigh.
He asks and prods and pokes, taking it all.
Not letting me retreat.
Not letting me hide away.
And those waves of guilt are still knocking me off my feet.
And I am still flinging my heart around as if I have it in spades...but that is me.
I talk to him about the guilt. How I wish we had handled it all differently. How I wish I had been able to hold on and stay grounded.
And all he has ever wanted me...the rarity. He may love me for the rarity and that involves enduring the chaos.
But I wish it was different.
"You want absolution Bleue? I'm not some holy man. You're not going to find it here."
It makes me laugh.
But its true.
I also chose the wrong path.
Mine is more of the walking wounded type and keep on going.
In the past few months, in his emotional sadism, he has patched me up long enough to be useful to him.
Because he needed me. And I railed at the unfairness of that, to his chagrin and confusion--this is how we roll--this is that dark part of us that we don't discuss all that often--this is our extreme.
I've quivered like a bow and been flown and landed and came back to his hand.
Now I can stand steady enough to patch myself up.
Which is what he is used to.
Its how I roll.
Walking wounded. Stronger.
Just another layer of amour.
Another battled in which I thrived.
A harder way because I don't know how to do it any other way.
But his steadiness. His support.
It might not be soul cleansing but it is soul affirming.
And its good enough for me.
I wanted it to be a "yes".
I wanted to hear him say "yes".
I wanted him to tell me that he believed I could do this.
That he understood why it was important to me.
I wanted him to declare that I am patched up, healed enough.
So many reasons, that I wanted it to be a "yes".
I don't like breaking commitments.
It kind of goes against my whole loyalty thing.
He said all of that and more.
But the answer was a "no".
He needs me elsewhere.
He needs my energy in other places.
And then I was reminded, how all of that is at the root of being his.
He directs my will.
He's never tamed me, always accepted all of me, but only contained the chaotic fire and given it direction.
I was reminded, how his goal has always been a harmonious household.
The goal is to seek that highest form of wisdom, in finding our happiness--the combined happiness of his and mine.
"Stand down Bleue, this one isn't yours to fight."
Not what my spirit wanted to hear.
But all of this brought a turning point.
He is taking us somewhere new in our M/s.
It feels deeper, it feels like it will be more than it was before.
But I needed him to know my reasons for wanting to do this...so I could show him the fears.
The fear of not belonging.
The longing to find something, or someone, the need to find a community, suddenly being a solitary isn't where I want to be...not with BB.
He saw more than that and quelled the needs.
He calmed the emotional waves.
And I was reminded, how much he really does know me.
So I didn't rage or lash out at his decision.
And there is a serenity that has settled over me, in feeling once again his complete control.
I feel more owned now, than I ever did.
He knows that scares me to my core.
He doesn't care.
He is taking me further in, to the place only he can see, once again making his vision for us a reality.
He has a busy week.
Been distracted by all kinds of things.
He is going to be away for a few days.
I am torn about something pretty major...been batting it around in my head over and over again.
Want to talk it out.
There hasn't been time.
I need him to make a decision about it. I just can't. At first he left it to me.
I asked that he take it away from me.
I asked, that he takes it out of my orbit and decide.
It means I have to abide, by whatever his decision his.
Preferably without screaming, being combative or tantrums.
Once upon a time, all of that was possible.
What life was before pregnancy is coming back and the waves of guilt I feel are knocking me off my feet.
From the third trimester on, I pushed him away.
It was bad, my friends.
I wasn't pleasant, to put it mildly.
Oh the guilt.
Oh the wound licking as only an emotional masochist can.
There has always been an element of punishment to our dynamic. At first when we were making BDSM more of a thing than just in the bedroom, than when we established a D/s relationship, then over the last few years as we grew into M/s and a much more Owner/property dynamic. How the punishments were used, as changed with each stage of us.
But it has been there.
It was used to bring me back to heel, when he needed to make a point, early on to establish boundaries and submission and a lot of the time it worked. It worked when I did something that upset him.
As we grew, the occurrences of where he actually used punishment faded. Always he talked more, always we discussed and kink/play was used as an outlet.
When I was pregnant he wouldn't beat me.
We lost a lot of our outlet, a lot of our communication became skewed.
He tried to come at me with force, and I reacted in the very opposite way that he wanted.
But the truth is? I needed him closer.
I needed more.
It was just the how of that more....
But I did everything I could to push him away.
A couple of months ago, I said to him, "I don't think I can have punishment as part of our dynamic" this was when I couldn't process pain and we were talking about things.
It gave him pause.
We haven't talked about it since.
Even though he hasn't used it in a very,very,very long time, it remained there.
And it was the show of force that made me retreat.
Well, I had a moment of insightful clarity but that was before baby fed for 10 hours straight.
Little crying though so I'm grateful for that and we will get through this.
I went back to yoga on the weekend. My yoga from back when I took prenatal yoga, offers postnatal yoga classes.
I should have gone before.
Mind you, I have only recently been able to leave baby for an hour (without following behind them) with Dad and we have been working up to it.
So I went and did yoga.
And was surprised at how strong I felt.
Like, really, really strong.
Stronger than before pregnancy.
Amazed at how well I could balance and flow and move.
It felt great.
This class is designed for postbaby and targets all the areas affected by the aftermaths. It begins with a 'talking circle' and ends with smudging.
I might be one to scoff at such things but it was really lovely.
It was the longest I left Baby Bleu but he was perfectly fine and they had a good time together. It went well and I was looking forward to going next week.
Then realized I couldn't.
Because Horus has a thing.
And that leaves me without babycare.
I felt sulky about this.
Couldn't tell if it was because I couldn't go to class, the fact that I didn't have babycare, or that we were putting his thing first.
It was probably a combination of all of those.
But I signed up for baby and I am totally okay with missing out on stuff. Baby is awesome.
Besides, its not like I am missing a once in a lifetime opportunity, its just yoga class.
And I did sign up for putting his things first.
Ahhh. But in the months of pregnancy and postpartum, there has been a lot of strong adverse feelings to that as my life. Putting him and his stuff first didn't sit well with me.
I didn't feel as I was getting enough out of it as I was putting into it, I felt unappreciated at times, useless at others, unrecognised, the feeling of just having a duty and being nothing more than that duty.
Pregnancy made me into someone who needed more.
Needed more nurturing, more reassurance, more recognition, more validation, just more...and carried on to the postpartum period with further complications of being a traumatised mess.
We lost our ebb and flow.
Because...he expects me to be strong.
Emotional, crazy, yes, but strong.
I have always looked after my own bubbling cauldron.
He's made sure I have had the space to maintain the cauldron, he's added to the cauldron, he's made sure I have a safe woods in which to stir the cauldron, but the feeding, care, planning and looking after the cauldron has always been my gig. If there is something I need for the cauldron, he expects me to ask and I am the one who feeds him from the cauldron. I'm the organizer of plans, the one who keeps the current flowing. I'm the seer, the one who glazes into the cauldron and brings him the information. My ability to look, to organize, to plan, to have my brain turned on by him and for him, is returning. It's been absent.
He goes out and do thing.
So...though he was used to me being emotional, and temperamental, he was not used me not flowing within my own space. Not used to be not being strong and neither of us really knew what was happening, while it was happening and we did the best we could. Because of course, priorities shifted and us, didn';t matter. The offspring mattered and it was all consuming as tiny humans can be.
It then started me thinking on how I may not be at all submissive, but I think more of being his property....his slave.
He loves me for my strength and fire.
He knows that when I surrender, what it is I am laying at his feet.
He is strong enough to know what to do with me, all of me and how to direct that fire and keep that cauldron from bubbling over--unless he wants it to, which sometimes he has.
Physical intimacy between us has been hit or miss. But an intimacy of another kind is emerging, more of an emotional one, because the last few months with all the missed tidings, has caused us to be more honest with each other, more direct, more concise.
It truly is a third courtship.
Last night he went out to a workshop, leaving me at night.
He brought me back a latte.
Give and take, has always been a cornerstone...its how it manifests that was lost on me, during these months, I just needed more and didn't know how I needed more.
Can we get back to the intimate, intense M/s we had before? Is it all lost? I don't know.
As he takes the reins back, implementing his expectations and showing his control, I think, yes, its still there.
When I am exhausted and cranky form being up all night, sustaining a little creature, I doubt it because the energy it takes, I clearly don't have in the moment.
"I think Kobo should give me a free book as soon I am done reading one." "Come on slaveling, I know you know how capitalism works."
"Actually I don't. If I did I would be better at making money." "Fair point."
There are changes coming.
And I will bore you all to tears writing about them here.
Thank-you for reading.
I was asked, why I have put a couple of posts on pages, instead of posts and if I wanted it to be read.
If you can read here, see this, then of course, I have no objection to you reading it. I always welcome feedback to anything I write.
Posts by email just feel so permanent sometimes, where as with pages I can choose to move them, hide them, or unpublish them as the mood strikes.
That was all the reasoning I had for putting it on a page.
I didn't realize I had readers who couldn't visit the blog but only saw posts by email. That was an oversight on my part, nothing personal.
I feel less crazy.
I feel more and more like myself.
There are still moments and not all the pieces are back together again, but I am starting to regain my own mind, or my own sense of self which is apparently taken apart and flung to all corners of the earth when you have had a baby.
So many of you told me.
There are still issues and things I am grappling with but that is life.
A couple of weeks ago, I was blindsided by a meme. I know. It was painful.
Here is the meme:
Totally sappy and new-agey and bah.
I haven't read Eckhart Tolle.
But for some reason, those words stuck in my mind and I began to turn them over and over again until they were meaningless.
Because why, would I choose it? Why? There was a moment, back in December. The moment where all my plans and hopes and wants unraveled.
I did not choose it.
Why? Why would I chose it.
Why would I?
And as this stuck in my head, something started happening, little by little.
It hovers on the outer edges.
It doesn't fully linger.
But it's there.
I have not told anyone about baby's birth.
But this seemed like the place to share.
Where else? A Night in December
"Can you please not eat those while you are holding the baby?" I stopped him just before he snagged cashews from the bowl on the counter. "O..k..aaaay." "I have this fear of baby swallowing nuts. It's a real issue for me, not a fake issue." "I don't think you have fake issues." That made me halt in my tracks. Seriously, I backtracked to the kitchen. "But you railroad over my issues all the time." He might have admitted that was true. And yes, I admitted that the fear of nuts thing was a little out of proportion but you know, I can mom how I want to. That little exchange, highlights the major change in our dynamic pretty well. He never accepted that I had issues, problems, or that there was something I couldn't do. He knows my strength. He has never accepted a show of less. My boundaries and limits, were his. He thought I could do it or I should do it, than I did. But postpartum and all the glory it has brought us has shifted those cornerstones. In the aftermath, it is looking more like it used to. Except, I point out that something has taken a hold of me and won't let go. He hears me, acknowledges it and railroads over it, anyways. But he tells me he is doing it--that is a major difference. I offer him more transparency and he responds with sharper honesty. He knows my strength. That is why he didn't let me break. I can't help wondering if it would have been easier, if he had. Something to be said for those clean breaks. Instead, I walked around wounded, patched together, with the cornerstones of the past but the new compass of the now. And some days? It still feels like I am barely holding on.
I just might be wanting time to myself.
The thought is kind of alarming.
Because I don't even know if that would be possible or what that would look like. I'm not even sure if I want it in reality or if I am feeling a bit overwhelmed with life.
I barely know what to do when the baby is napping.
Thought I should mention, there is a new page up.
Some things I don't want to leave in the email.
Yes, this has been an issue.
In the past, I have always just mind-over-body it. Coz I am super amazing with that particular kind of kettle. And dammit I can.
I am lacking that belief that fuels that ability to mind-over-body it, which just makes it all that much more worse.
One of those pesky side affects (more on that later, maybe).
We have always dealt with it.
For the most part, definitely since the beginning of our D/s and then most definitely since we became M/, he has expected me to just suffer through.
He does take an extraordinary amount of pleasure in my pain.
But maybe , just maybe one of the brilliant minds who read here will have a suggestion that I haven't tried on for size--though I feel like I have tried them all.
In Bleue...yeah that was the best phrasing I could come up with...in point form:
He has been working from home all week. Strangely, this has resulted in me getting less done on my to do list because my eyes have been on his. It also feels like there is more work...and I have had way less downtime when downtime isn't always a given.
Still angry about the not writing thing. I'm angry enough to do something about it but lack the time. See above. Grrr. Read the draft. Hated it.
Family. Family sucks.
Experiencing major mama guilt over the fact that Baby Bleu doesn't have better family.
Feeling alone in a weird kind of way.
It has felt very good to have my eyes on his to do list.
Reminder that we are still us.
We have a damn bubble.
Sometimes that means everyone tries to burst it at once.
But we just keep on bubbling (needs full post on this point to).
Neighbour: "My parents were theatre people."
Me: "I always wondered what their kids looked like."
Ohmygoddesohmygoddesohmygoddess The realization that we are the creative types, with offspring.
This needs another post but:
Looking at taking new courses.
What do you think I should take?
(Humanities, Lit, Sociology etc)
Most of you have had a good look inside my head...so figured it was wroth an ask.
Spam me with your favourite go to sites to answer:
"What the fuck do I make for dinner?"
I crawl into bed beside him.
He puts his arm around my neck, whispering sweet nothings.
"I love my wife."
"Because she's smart and funny and kind. I love her brain and her emotions."
"Ha! You do not love my emotions."
"Yes I do. I can live without the expression of them sometimes but I still love how you emote."
"Love you too."
His arm tightens on my throat.
"No, no we don't have time".
"You can't say no, slave."
He moves me, where he wants me, somehow his forearm is still across on my neck, he increases pressure until speaking is difficult, He tells me to shut up and whispers dirty words in my ear.
"You are here for me to fuck".
No time for foreplay.
He uses me hard.
"Be a proper slave and cum for me."
Surprising but I do just that, feeling his weight, his muscles his strength.
He moves his arm off my throat, lets me up.
I thank him for the orgasms.
I pause on the stairs, "yes?'
"Master, I love you. Happy Anniversary."
It's completely selfish of me.
But I really wish I could find two hours in the day where I could give my undivided attention to something.
He is chasing a deadline this week, so there goes the extra pair of hands at night and I don't need it and I don't need a break and I don't need those two hours, its just a 'it would be nice if' kind of thought and by gods, those extra pair of hands are very nice..the difference between showering and not some days.
So many drafts and no time to finish them off.
There are milestones happening this week!!!
Oh? And I am getting increasingly angry with myself over not having a book out yet. Dammit.
If I could find that extra hour....
I might be posting pages.
"My master wants to read you blog." (Cute blog email).
That's nice. I'm sure my Master does too. Cue collective FL crowd then going off on a tangent of how not slave I am and how I am slaving all wrong or how he isn't mastering me enough. It is not my responsibility to dictate how he uses the power he has over me. I kicked him off the blog permissions list last year, when I got annoyed with him. He kept saying he was going to write something for here and didn't.
Did it bother him? He said, "Hey! That's not fair!" but didn't make it an issue and he has always allowed me space and illusory privacy to scrawl here.
He has all my passwords.
Not my fault if he doesn't think to check in occasionally, I'm not preventing him from doing so and I suspect he has and does read here but the how is a mystery and its one of those things both of us knows but never mention.
I think it amuses him.
It's not about making him happy. Do things I do make him happy? Sure. Is it my goal in life? No.
So maybe in other households, in other M/s dynamics, the domly one doesn't fold laundry. He finally admitted that he likes doing laundry and hates how I do it. He has resistance too and his resistance, when it pops up can lead us down the path of having the same useless argument for years.
Maybe in other households, when their baby woke up at 4am, the domly one would have stayed sleeping. His philosophy is, 'If I can't beat her yet, join her.' Besides, I didn't think I was going into parenthood singly. Okay, might have thought that for a moment or two but was corrected.
Definitely, in some other M/s household's, the slavey one doesn't critique the work of the master.
In this one, it's routine. That work goes out with his name on it to hundreds of other people. When I rip it apart, sometimes using all the harsh languages, it makes him able to maintain his laid back, water off a duck's back, "I don't care what you think" vibe.
It is true, he doesn't care what those others think of him, those other people don't love him.
The chaos of the last few months, really comes down to I fell in to old habitual thinking, in feeling like I had to protect my wounded self. I thought he had beaten that out of me years ago.
It's the old thinking that says:
You have to prove yourself to justify your existence. You have to prove yourself, to justify the outcome, because the way in which it happened, didn't go according to plan. It was an eruption of battle of wills, in me trying to put my will over him, out of a false sense of needing protection. I went against our strong current that our M/s flows on. I took up the fight that I had given over to him years ago in trying to reclaim power, in trying to prove my worth.
Maybe I had some weird notion in my head that he suddenly wanted me to be all pleasing and still, all high protocol and devoid of all fire.
I want him to direct, to use what I give. I need to be used and useful. I don't care if what I do or how I do it, is pleasing to him. If he wants pleasing, he can buy another painting. I'm not a damn statue. Maybe it s a rash of stubbornness left that he hasn't overrode out of me, but trying to please is pretty useless.
He wants all of me, not just the behaviours he modified to be pleasing to him. All of me,comes with some grit and fire and punch. It comes with some baggage and wounds and gaping holes. All of me comes with impulses and flinging around hearts as if I have them in spades.
Just like the pretension of him not reading here, I need the illusion of still holding on to that hard fought for independence, of maintaining the fight long after I have surrendered the will.
"You are free before the sun of the day, and free before the stars of the night; And you are free when there is no sun and no moon and no star. You are even free when you close your eyes upon all there is. But you are a slave to him whom you love because you love him, And a slave to him who loves you because he loves you." Excerpt, Seventh, by Kahlil Gibran
What was I thinking?
Dear goddess, its like I had this conversation yesterday.
I am share-o-phobic.
Ripe with second-guessing.
When I asked for post suggestions, I didn't think anyone would respond with you know, actual suggestions.
And maybe spewing all over FL isn't okay. Maybe I'm doing it all wrong.
Maybe I should just scratch the whole thing yet again.
Obviously, the plan was to work up to opening this up again.
Plan? Not good.
And its also kind of like an onset of dormant sub-frenzy (ha).
Seriously!!!! I want to do everything!!!!
WAY too many unsupervised moments without coffee. This isn't good because it means, he will have to micro-manage and no one is happy with that scenario. Coz clearly I can't manage on my own in pseudonym online interactions.
His response to this??? "There, there pudding its okay."
Of course it takes more than a few nights of play and sex to set everything on balance again. But the play and sex help.
Suddenly, it is like a curtain being pulled back. I feel more like myself than I have all year.
That is good but also I feel a bit alarmed and downright queasy taking in how much I wasn't myself.
In true emotional masochist fashion, I am reveling in the reveal.
After quick play last night, it made me realize, the physical way in which I process pain, has changed. I don't know how to explain it with any more clarity than that (I know its crazy...but I also can't take the heat...at all...any kind of heat and I was one bundled up in 30c weather...I thought maybe there is a relation here?) but it does affect not just play but life.
Pain feels differently.
Many times over the years, I have thought that I need the play more than he does. That's not quite true, it is an outlet and release for him just as much as it is for me.
But...I realized that though I like service--debatable if I am still wired that way or not--I need the play, to process it...one fuels the other for me in my head.
I need that space where I can fling myself with abandon. He takes it all and gives it back to me, through the cords of pain.
Something like that.
I am practicing sharing work because it terrifies me.
So a lot of my blogger friends have been discovering/joining Fetlife and have been blogging about it, since this past March.
Thought it was my turn to post thoughts about it.
Unlike most of you, I have the opposite problem where I want to keep my blog identity separate from real life friends. Further, I would love to connect with greater blogland through FL while this blog is closed, maybe I would post archival posts from here or what not.
For those of you who have me on there, you probably know even more about me through that profile that puts you closer to knowing the who of me in real life. I knew and understood the risks and have no regrets about letting you in on that FL profile.
But I don't interact on there as much as I would like to at times because of those real life connections.
How to put this.......?
Every village has their crazy.
I wish this crazy wasn't friends with me but if I removed them from friends that would rock a boat I don't want to rock.
So....in order to share and interact more, I have created another FL profile.
This weekend was really good. Our weekends used to be like mini-holidays and the past few have started to feel like that again.
We tend to do a lot.
That's not to say it was all smooth sailing. There were a few rocky moments there that could have upturned the whole experience but it didn't.
There was a midwife picnic, basically a chance to catch-up with the midwives and show how your baby has grown. We had known about it for well over a month. I had asked him last week, if he wanted to go. In all honestly, I thought he would have pushed for it because:
-He loves showing off Baby Bleu
-He has been telling me to get out more with baby
He also likes picnics and soicalizng way more than I do.
All week, I asked him about it and it was a back and forth of 'How do you feel, should we go?' let me also mention that the location of picnic not the easiest for us to trek to and it was kind of far.
He still hadn't given me a clear answer by Friday but kind of left it hanging on the not likely side and I had a handful of moments of feeling like it was unfair and that I was missing out on this picnic, suddenly voicing that I did want to go and by then it had grown much bigger in my head.
He didn't know how I would react to this picnic and wasn't completely sure it wouldn't cause a stress/trigger reaction.
He had made the decision, he was just a little murky on the communication, we ended up talking it out.
This was good. This was an instance where I needed him to protect me from myself, because of course I had convinced myself that I could handle going to this thing and whatever justification I was throwing out ('baby needs to soicalize') was in support of that.
This showed us kind of where I am on the whole submission front and where he needs to be...more active perhaps than he has been...maybe its more apt to say it showed where I am in relation to how I feel about slavehood. Probably still not there completely but close enough for him to make it an issue and he has.
A lot of our time was spent on work stuff, and it felt great to put my head there and be there for him--even though I was infused with guilt over how much I haven't been there for him...getting past it and moving on....I have to...life is coming at us at top speed and I can either go with the bounce or resist and I know where resistance leads.
The cosmos aligned baby slept, the work stuff was finished (a project that made me feel all slave-proud) and he took out heavy flogger and had at me.
My pain tolerance is still low and we still haven't explored what I can take (I almost wish we could go to an exploratorium where no one knows us--while nothing has changed, in the fact that I still believe his limits are mine, he doesn't exactly want to break me either) he pushed me more than he has since the birth.
He plugged me.
Can you tell me what the point is? Because I remembered how much I hate being plugged and was only happy he didn't bring out the bigger one or the dildo. Insertables, never my favourite.
If I could pull off the alternative-steampunk-modern-goth-look I would do it in a heartbeat. The most I could probably do is blue hair. He won't let me dye it.
At other times, I feel like this, though never manage to pull off that carefree look.
And I've always wanted to do this:
And my soul might have a little bit of this:
My reality is more like this:
There is a girl across from us on the train.
She is tall and thin, with long purple hair, loosely tied back.
Her hair is shiny and ultra purple, I can't stop looking at it.
Her skin is ivory. I can't tell if it's natural or really well done make-up.
She has huge red-framed sunglasses on, she is wearing a long skirt made funky fabric, cherries and letters of the alphabet, she is is wearing high-heel black boots, her bag is made of recycled juice boxes and is filled with bolts of fabric, her hands are covered in rings, a simple stud in her nose.
I wonder where she going.
I wonder if she makes all her clothes and it makes me wish I could sew.
I wonder what music is playing through her ipod.
I wonder if we would have anything in common.
I wonder if she would even see me, if she would pause for a moment to notice that my inside is kindred to her outside.
I wonder what is it that is making me feel attracted to her, beyond the appearance.
"Is that an eternity collar?! It's beautiful."
It took me a moment in the crowd, to realize someone was speaking to me.
We are at an event. It isn't a comment I expect at this type of place.
Speaker of the comment is very tall, athletic, muscular, silver-framed glasses framing gorgeous hazel eyes, left ear covered in jewelry.
I stayed silent as the compliment giver sits down next to me, lights a cigarette.
She introduces herself and that makes it easier on me, because I don't have to guess.
Her hair is short and spiky, the tips are blue.
We chat for awhile.
She tells me what she is doing here. Tells me she is a performer and a model.
I tell her what I'm doing there.
She thinks its cool.
We comment on the stupidity around us, if they keep doing that there, they will be hurt...large crowds, open spaces, idiotic what happens.
She asks me if I'm on Fetlife, she tells me her name.
I tell her mine.
She stands up, wishes me luck and I watch her walk away.
I return to what I'm doing, why I'm there but I feel kind of swoony because of the compliment and the conversation.
We were talking, a few weeks back about pansexuality.
For me, it is more about what is inside a person that their outside.
It doesn't mean I don't have preferences but it does mean, I have often been the only one in the room not fawning over that guy's abs because though his package may be pleasing to the eye, the vibe he is giving off is yicky.
I'm attracted to shiny and interesting, intelligence and gentleness.
Those that stand out from the crowd, have and will always catch my eye.
The ones that pause long enough to see that my outside doesn't match my inside, have been so rare.