Thursday, 29 January 2015

Like Hades

The truth is, we are so far down the rabbit hole, it's impossible to undo it.

Really, its either figure out how to make it work with everything that has happened and the new circumstances or call it quits.
he didn't like that when i said it to  him a couple of weeks ago.

And even with me being a crazy ball of emotion over these past months, we never completely lost it. There were moments...those moments that are so important...that reinforce your roles. Moments, yes at least in the last half of it, while not totally fulfilling for either one of us were there. the first half was easier---maybe...

But the last several weeks have been different. those moments haven't been there.
Recovery has taken so much out of me and you know, I only have so much energy and all of that energy is being taken up by our new addition. 
I haven't been able to take touch, and that's one of those languages of loves that he needs. 
But somehow, throughout all of this, he has kept us together. Kept us from falling apart. Kept us from sinks and laundry hampers overflowing.

I'm not sure when...but there was a trickle, a beginning of a turning tide.
 The Stupidest Thing Ever, is how I have coined an event that I have to go to.
I don't want to go to it--I can't believe that such a thing is happening.
He made me agree to it.
Not in such a clear cut way but by giving me two choices of how The Stupidest Thing Ever was going to happen.
Horrible, horrible choices,  
I had to choose and I chose the least horribles of the options.
So he can now claim that I agreed to it...but I didn't...
 It does help that he grumbles about The Stupidest Thing Ever, because it means i can complain about it--well at least when he is grumbling about it. Its weeks away, so much more time to rant about it.


Yesterday?  Day before?
I  caught myself thinking about the birth.
And i caught myself smiling about it.
maybe i am starting to think that just because it didn't happen how it was supposed to, it is still beautiful.


"Come hug me".
I  don't know why I asked....
He was working and he should be and I should stop interrupting him because I know he's behind.
But I climbed up  on our big, gigantic, totally impractical bed.
He held me.
His hands wandered.
"What are you doing?"
"Taking you."
Those were the last words he said, for a very long time.
I tensed up, he didn't say a word and just kept going.
Gently, his hands roaming over my body, his fingers finding their way...I gulped air, for a moment I couldn't breathe.
He paused and just waited.
Waited until I breathed again.
i did and twisted away, but he held me in place, gentle so gentle.
His fingers slid in deep.
Best orgasm ever.
He didn't say anything as he positioned me, slowly  and gently, exactly where he wanted me. 
He didn't say a word as he entered ,he just held me hard and waited me out and allowed me to think whatever i needed to --there was so much spinning through my mind--he knew my thoughts were racing.
Gentle yes, but each move he made, decisive and firm. 
I didn't think i was ready.
Maybe I wasn't. Maybe I will never feel ready, maybe I am just so far into myself that I would stay in that not going forward place.

But he knew I could take this.
 and I still trust him to know...


Monday, 26 January 2015

Push Reset

This is what is missing.
The ebb and flow, moves both ways.
But he's the one with the power to stop, pause, reset.

And the so very ironic thing is? I can vividly recall several occasions where Horace gave that very advice to others.

Because he--used to be?--is?--so very skilled at it. Things got chaotic and out of hand, he has the ability to slow it all down and remind me, us where we stand.

Pregnancy was crazy...or I went a little crazy. Only now, am I realizing that I was on guard, all the time...sort of in a defensive mode, I was holding my breath.
I wanted his comfort, his reassurance...not  just to be pacified...but I was so consumed with the avalanche of everything that had to be done, fuelled by strong emotion...don't misunderstand, there were so many delightful, good pure moments,but I think my  behaviour threw him...and left him  confuzzled when his tested and true methods didn't work. 
 Not his fault. And totally fair for his brain to have been a little scrambled too.

"Bleue stop worrying about the that", He said to me--I was starting some chore--
"You haven\'t left me off the hook".

Yes, that's it.
I don't know  where the words came from, but they opened up a volcano of truth. That's what I have been waiting for...because I don't know how to give up.

I will go and go and go...I will put forth effort beyond the point of exhaustion.
I just don't quit...I won't stand down.

One of the beautiful things our M/s has taught me, was the strength that can be found in the vulnerability of  surrender and for several months, that for me, has been out of reach.

But I need it now.
I need him to push the button and reset.
I need him to make crystal clear to me..that I can just stop...and tell me how to do that...because stillness doesn't come easy to me.

I need him to remind me that I am something more...I need him to be the intervention that saves me from myself.

And I don't know...I feel like maybe we have just gone through too much, too much is still too raw to come back and reconnect like this...

There's a huge part of me that is screaming: there is nothing on offer here, if he wants it--whatever he wants--he is going to have to take it.

Friday, 23 January 2015

Friday Fragments: Processing

Last weekend,we were out running errands and Baby Bleu decided he was hungry in the grocery store.
Not in the previous establishments we were in, where it would have been a lot more suitable for me to feed him, but the grocery store.
The most packed place you can find in the village on a Saturday.

Horace took a picture.
I hate pictures, but I love this photo.
Because it was a moment.
A very long moment where a lot of thoughts spun through my head in one of those-past-present-future surreal ways.

 that was a moment where it hit me...

I can't control him.

I can control his environment as best as possible, and my reactions to what he does and all that, but this little tiny creature, is indeed his own being.
I'm responsible for him, yes especially now but more than that, I am responsible to him .
That was the moment that I got over the nursing in public fears and decided to embrace it, and make a point of taking those pictures when we are out and about.
It's about choice and how important the freedom to have those choices are.

When we were done feeding, Horace was getting Baby Bleu ready and I was pacing up the bags...I realized people were smiling at us! Smiling.
They lit up when they saw Baby Bleu...he is charming, after all.

And that's also the moment I realized that having a village is going to be a really  good thing and how being out in it is important.

I'm a solitaire but for him, I can be a social creature.
I hate attention, but for him, I will embrace it.
For him, I can take down the armour and be kinder to people--you know, biting my tongue on the phrase 'get your own baby' when someone asks if they can take a look at him.

So maybe when he is whatever age and breaks that window (and by stone and sea how you fervently pray it is nothing more than that) maybe the interaction will be kind, steeped with fondness.
"Oh  Baby Bleu, that's know I remember when you were just a tiny babe/ your crazy mama..."
And yes, I will even garnish sympathy for him if its to benefit.

Back in that grocery store, on that really uncomfortable chair, I realized how much it matters to me to join the normalising breastfeeding movement and become a badass breastfeeder (thanks RM for the resource) and how easy it is for me to do that, living where we do---(and how happy I am about that...because if he had been born just a city over...) and how doing that is part of something much larger, of being part of a changing culture....just like our birth experience has led us to be. Unwittingly...granted.

I haven't spoken about the birth experience we have had because I haven't had the words to someday tell him--and it always has been important to me that I don't play that whole "you made me suffer" martyrdom card...but while I was feeding him in front of the village, the words started to has a lot to do with choice....

It's a very cruel term, "birth disappointment". It almost implies that you are disappointed with the birth of the baby.
And that of course, is ridiculous.

We are horrible, culturally, I am discovering at dealing with birth and pregnancy and motherhood and especially the postpartum period. Our ideas surrounding all of that are very archaic.

Its totally acceptable for me to agree with people when they say, "It's hard isn't it?" but unacceptable for me to cry when someone asks me about labour.

 When I say, "He's awesome and I'm enjoying it", they look at me skeptically, as if I am lying, as if I should join them in their commiseration of how hard it is.

I'm not finding it hard--not to say I find it easy--but truly, I have had a lot of fun  in these early weeks, even with the hellish breastfeeding experiences.

Horace and I post phoned our wedding by a year. The summer we were supposed to get married, the phone rung off the hook. Someone called me everyday it seemed to ask how I was 'holding up.'
The family visited often, friends dropped by, we were hardly alone that summer.
Its not like we called things off, we just delayed the event.
But people understood, that this wedding was much anticipated and that it was a disappointment that it wasn't happening how I envisioned it and when we wanted it to. I was allowed to grieve for what should have been and had support to do so.
No one said things like:

"Well, it was doomed to fail from the start."
"Of course it didn't go as planned."
"You shouldn't have spent  so much time planning for it."
"What did you expect?"
"Its the first time, it never works out the first time."
"It couldn't have worked how you wanted it to."
"Why did you think you could have done it that way?"
"You should be over it by now."
"Recovering from that takes a little longer but its easier to do next time."
"It would have never worked, anyways."
"You shouldn't have had your heart set on it."

And other wildly helpful least favourite: "you have a beautiful healthy baby you shouldn't complain."

Like I'm  not happy about the baby? Like I am not incredibly grateful and amazed that he is healthy? Like I don't know how lucky we are that everything is 'normal'? (seriously, you are making that kind of comment, to me of all people?)

Birth is a major, life changing event.

And how that birth goes, impacts a woman's entire life. I know this, its because of the accidents of my own birth, in part that I made all the decisions I did.
It matters what we do with those chances/or accidents.

Sometimes I hate anonymity.
So many of you have written to me, sharing your own birthing/pregnancy disappointments, so many of you have admitted to me things that aren't said.
And I am grateful for the outpouring; it has all made me feel less alone.

But I don't think those experiences--nor my own--have to be hidden away--not saying to share the details--but lets stop sugar coating...

I'm not sure what all this means for me...but maybe the next time, someone says, "Oh your breastfeeding? I wanted to do  that but it didn't work out for me."
I can reply with, "Sorry it didn't workout for you. Honestly? its been a hellish experience for me"....compassion, kindness, know, values that matter on any other subject...

Right, had no idea where I was going with this or if...I'm stopping...just needed to process. 

Wednesday, 21 January 2015

The Sum of It

Mc Kitten: 

"You know, it sounds a bit like he's giving you space to settle, but you're interpreting it as loss of a safety net and feel like you're on shifting sands so are desperate for him to define the space so you can find your feet again, but if and when he does start defining it you feel fenced in and panicky and/or resentful.

I could be totally wrong in all that, but it's how it sounds like to me, a little."


Not totally wrong, M, not at all. That's about the sum of it.

Add in the fact that I can't imagine ever wanting to intentionally have pain inflicted upon me and I can't fake it or suck it up anymore or enjoy it when it comes to the whole double standard thing...

That leaves us where? 

Recovering M and s? Unhappily vanilla? Sometimes bedroom-only-kinksters?

*sighs.* all say time.

Monday, 19 January 2015


Obligation dinner.
And I went.
And I didn't complain, not once about going.
I didn't give any examples of things I would rather do instead--though the list I made in my head is amusing.
I just showed up.

And maybe that's more of a wife thing than a slave thing.
Because I do love him. He is my husband--showing up at this stage of the game is kind of habitual.

But I did it without complaint because I know it makes him happy.
Because I know that while I am still on the fence about interacting with people--he needs people.
Because I know his need for service hasn't been met for many weeks.
Because I'm starting to feel a lot of guilt and shame about the last several weeks and all I put us through.
A whole lot.
Because he asked me to go.

There might have been a turning point...or a thawing of will.
A quiet moment, lounging on the bed...empty hands, staring at nothing...
He started tickling.
I rolled away.
Next thing I knew, his arms were around me and he was totally ignoring my protests.
A playful moment.
One of thousands that came before.
But his hands were on my body, touching exploring.
First time in forever.

"Your still mine. I own you."
"No you don't".
"I own all of you--these--circling my breasts- might be on long term loan but I still own you".
The man could always make me laugh.

He playfully swatted my arse--testing my reactions almost.
It was hard, but I gave in..went as far as I could with his touches and explorations..until I just couldn't. Not quite ready, not yet.

He held me close and it felt good just to be in his arms, it felt good to be held.

I don't think we are going to know what I can and can't take until we try. And I haven't felt good enough to really try.
There is a part of me that wishes, I could just give in and go with his lead. But my body is still recovering and what felt normal and fine a few months ago, in a real physical sense--might feel awful and nausea-inducing now.
Gods,the man has patience.

Do I know where we are?
Not really.

Having identified support I need with the critter, he asked me to try and put words to the support I need, overall...or what I need overall..been thinking about it and I'm not sure if I have the words but..

I don't know where we are.
But I do know....that's his call.
And I need him to call it.
I want him to call it.

I need him to show me, where we are and where he wants me...but I need compassion...this can't be forced.
And I need the fact that I am still recovering to be acknowledged---he has been very good at that. We of course have different perspectives on the experience and just like its hard for others to understand, its hard for him to understand but he has been trying and he has acknowledged how I feel about it...

It isn't like me to ask or need that kind of constant validation but in this situation I do. Because the silence from everyone else on this is getting to me. I don't know why I feel the need for them to understand or want them to--but I do..though that inclination is less now  than it was weeks ago.
He's the only other person that can tell me : It was traumatic (in other words, that's not just made up in my head)...and speak to it in other ways.

I need his reassurances that we are ok, that we'll make it through this, I need his confidence and his dominance in his most alpha form..but not passive aggressive force,which I think sometimes might be his defense-coping mechanism. 

Back on the bed...
He paused us for a moment--got up.
Came back.
Proceeded to write all over me, in marker.

And right beside my fresh stretch marks,upside down on my hip...wrote this:

So there is that.

Friday, 16 January 2015


It's getting easier.
I. Just. Had. A. Baby.

I know--you all have been reading about that forever and it happened all these weeks ago now--but its now my mantra and one I might repeat for the next two months.

A comment M made on one of the last posts, reminded me that for all these weeks, I was supposed to be taking morphine.
That was a good reminder, put things in perspective, as in "the pain I am experiencing is so bad they recommended serious painkillers."

I refused the script of course, because heavy painkillers and breastfeeding don't mix.

These past several weeks have been so very hard. They have also showed me how very much alone in the world we are.
And I'm not sure if I like that.
It's all right for me to be a solitary, it has caused me to reach out a little bit more.

At the same time, I haven't wanted visitors--other than the obligatory relatives--I've been keeping the door closed.  Horace even suggested my favourite people and I refused.
We are at different perspectives on this. He wants to parade Baby Bleu around in a Lion-King kind of way and I'm a mama bear fiercely guarding the cave.

But, I think we are slowly turning a corner...where I am feeling that company would be nice.

Horace asked me what support I felt I needed and its a hard question to answer. But I thought about it and realized, what is going to make me feel supported, are those things that encourage confidence/Independence: help me get baby in the wraps, stay with me while I feed in public--those two things would go a long way.
He has been supportive and there with me, but I mean besides him, it would be nice to have that support.

Mind you, if I don't find a way to clean the Hovel, I'm going to go ballistic.

It's not all back together.
But its a lot better.

Baby Bleu is awesome and gods I can't believe the love.

Monday, 12 January 2015

The Monday Drag

I knew I was being bossy in asking all of you to add a gadget to your blogs to make my life easier, but it was worth a try.
 I follow and read 68 blogs (art, authors,D/s/M/s/subs) -don't judge, I don't own a television or a microwave, all of you are my entertainment--am I missing something obvious?
Is there a way to get all the blogs I read on one screen? Some nifty app like the old Google reader or digests?

The weekend.

It was okay.
We ventured out in public.
Stopped in at a restaurant.
Baby Bleu started to cry.
He cries when we are out and I wish for a huge hole to open up so I can climb into it.
I don't like attention.
I feel like people are judging me because of my squawking bundle.
Had to feed him.
Uncomfortable table,uncomfortable chair, uncomfortable lighting, too exposed
The cover thing? Oh no--it just doesn't work for us.
I need to see him.
He should see what he eats.
So...more often than not I end up exposing breast while I get him latched.
Couldn't take was all too much.
I got up and left, went outside.
Horace was pissed....understanding eventually, but mad that I up and ran out the door.
Next time? I'll pop a menu up on the table. Duh.
Went into a cafe down the street, there were no chairs.
Baby Bleu, fussing more at this point.
Went into another cafe.
By this time, baby is one cry away from frantic, my heart is pounding and I'm so stressed about feeding baby.
Comfy chairs. Super comfy chairs.
They know us at this place.
Only reason why I drew attention is because I was visibly panicked.
Got Baby Bleu fed.
No one cared.
Wasn't a big deal.
Conclusion: I am never going out in public again. Way too stressful. Seriously.

As that conclusion would make my life horribly restrictive...amendment to the conclusion: Go where there are comfy chairs and good coffee.

The thing is, maybe this would all be easier if recovery wasn't taking me forever, if I had the perfect birth experience I had planed on, if I wasn't dealing with pain...but no one has said life with baby is easy.

And I wasn't expecting it to be.

The actual caring of and to the baby, I do find pretty easy--it's everything else.

It all just seems so fragile and it seems like everything has to be done or figured out instantly and...there is such a learning curve to: breastfeeding (getting it more days than not, but its hard)baby-wearing (almost have the ring sling figured out) how to use the car seat (thankfully I don't need this every day) and how to fold up the stroller (wondering why we bothered getting one) is just all overwhelming.

Thank gods for the love.

Saturday, 10 January 2015

Mind Meld

At the moment, I'm drinking coffee.
Catching up on blogs.
Using both hands.
It's a good moment.
 Considering the day before, good moments were hard to find, I'm soaking it up. Because right at this moment, I see a little bit of light...and my body isn't in pain and Baby Bleu is life is good.

After the last post, that lovely thing that happens in Blogland...happened. Lil wrote this and Misty chimed in with a comment that made me think, which has led me to write this...

It's definitely something that was surrendered in the whole M/s deal..but yet, in so many ways I am independent...but those ways are now dictated by him and have been for a long time.

When I go and interact with people on behalf of him, when I attend functions I hate, when I take a meeting for him, all of those things involve some of the independent mind set...but you see, Little Miss Independent received marching orders from him.

With the pregnancy? I felt...independent in a whole other if I couldn't be I had to fend for myself and because there wasn't enough feeding of the M/s...and I was crazy, we kind of tumbled off the wagon.

The caveat?

He let it happen. Now under the circumstances, there wasn't much he could do. But I feel as has always been his call, he has always held us to his vision and for the last however many months, he didn't.

There's that.

I need to depend on him.
And I need way more "show" than tell.
Way more.

But...last night? He put something around my neck.
He didn't comment on it---at least not in terms of "collar" and M/s...but its there.

So I guess because I was using an older account to read/follow blogs, it was still  using the old blogger..where you used to be able to 'subscribe by email' I can't follow by email unless the gadget has been installed...please, pretty please, can you put it there for me? Some of you have it...but some of you don't...just asking....


Thursday, 8 January 2015


(I've lost access to the account I use to follow/read. Trying to resubscribe. To the couple of private blogs that I read--I've lost the permissions....if you wouldn't mind:

I have no idea where we are.
That's frightening to me.
(I know, -give it time--but)
And I don't know...where we are going ..because I am wondering if too much has changed...or if too much ugly has been exposed.

What is it that makes a D/s-M/s- dynamic so successful? What are the parts that when its working,  make it feel so harmonious, head-floaty, magical?

There is trust. That's obvious and what everyone will point to first as an essential ingredient.
But trust is...something that needs to be have care with...who broke first? Does it matter?--yes--glaringly, yes. It does matter. It shouldn't but to me it does because expectations are higher, the value is more when its the M. Or maybe it just matters that it was slid over and had no consequences? I might have been able to roll better if this wasn't so.../cryptic, I know.

The day to day commitment of living out the agree upon arrangements, The obeying of the one who is to obey--with total commitment. Not just when its easy or when it suits.
This takes a single-minded focus and willpower and I've had neither, consistently for months.

It has to be fed...its not just in the actions, the mindset, the little gestures, anything that goes to reinforce the dynamic, it has to be given a nudge every once in awhile.

It's not exactly talked about often but for a successful M/s relationship, you need blinders on.

Other than that trust thing--this is where I am finding it hard.
In a vanilla relationship, it might be acceptable to complain about him leaving the socks on the floor. In a M/s you pick up the damn socks, every day before he even realizes he left them there.
And you fuckin smile..because you are happy not to complain or nag, happy to anticipate the needs, happy to serve, damn happy that the irritating habit of him leaving socks on the floor is kind of endearing.
M/s...because he is everything, your world, it gives you an almost cloudy worship. You exult the good qualities, over and over and over again, that is where your focus focus on the very best parts. Sure, the socks might bother you from time to time but there is enough cloud cover going on, that you live with it.
And it works the same from his perspective.
You might be a heaping mess, but you have given him what he's demanded and its enough to embrace the ugly bits.

I feel like our cloud coverage is gone and there hasn't been enough give to get over the ugly that's been exposed.
So things that I have accepted for years now, habits and those less than endearing traits...are annoying to me on a whole new level. I feel like I have given over and over and over and he hasn't responded--he's stood still and not changed..while demanding everything from me...out right taking it.

In the back of my mind, there is a tiny part of the slave, that is crying out in fierce protest of these words--and agreeing with the time thing and is warning that its hard to see anything through this haze of recovery...

But more than half of me, feels so broken and shattered.
In times past, when I didn't trust myself, I trusted him.
Now? I don't trust myself at all (I fundamental, important ways, I failed) and he...I don't know..

I don't know.

And the part of me that is protesting? Might be right. Might be.
There hasn't been any talk  of ending our M/s...months ago I asked him to actually call declare that we are having a break, to talk about withdrawing consent and what that would look like, but he wouldn't entertain any of it.

So where are you when one doesn't want to join in and the other one is ignoring that anything has changed?

Monday, 5 January 2015

Keeping the Sane...

Truly, I miss all of you. I miss reading your posts and responding to your emails; I miss exchanging thoughts and ideas and contemplating what a post from another blogger has brought forth, I hope all of you are well.

So we are about a month in.
Seriously sleep deprived and over the moon (Did I mention the love? Because, great goddess, if it wasn't for the love there would be abandoning ship) and it is getting easier, sort of.

Though, I feel like it should be all sorted and there by now.

The nursing thing. No one told me about cluster feedings. In all the reading and research I did, I somehow missed that. What kind of insanity is this?? And will it end?
We are still having problems, too. Latch looks good, I have pain from feeding. All the usual things have been ruled out.

There are things I don't care about that people told me I would.
I don't feel like I need a baby break. Mental peace, yes...but there is a difference.
I never had that much adult conversation before nor did I leave the Hovel all that I'm really fine with not talking to another adult all day and staying indoors--though when we can get a walk in, it is rather blissful.

Its the fact that I'm still not recovered.
That the Hovel is a mess--and yes, I know it shouldn't bother me but it just does.
However,..I am learning acceptance.
It's a mess, fine.
I'm in pain, fine.

And I have no idea, where we are as a couple. In typical fashion, he is great with the logical, practical things and impossible with the emotional ones but right now I need both to be tended too.

He's keeping us fed and watered and trying to keep the Hovel from falling apart and I know there is a lot on his shoulders and having me being out of commission like this isn't productive to some of the work stuff... but.

He's talking to me as if I am a wounded animal; as if I am fragile. Considering that's exactly how I feel, this shouldn't bother me, but it does.

And I know, you good people are going to tell me its timing and to give it time but I'm impatient. I want it all now, of course and it just doesn't seem to be falling into place in any kind of order.

So..skimming your posts and reading a page or two are keeping me sane.
And texting is keeping me sane too--I even text relatives I'm not overly fond of--maybe that is my version of adult conversation.

Hanging in, by threads but still in.

Did I mention the love?