Sunday, 31 December 2017

The Year End

I had plans and intentions.
But you know.

So I'll end the year in my little dusty corner of Blogland by thanking you all for hanging in with me.
Wishing you all a Happy New Year and a good dose of Gaiman philosophy.

Thursday, 21 December 2017

Its Yule

Today finds me feeling blah blah still but I'm making cake with the offspring in honour of the sun's birthday. #raisingawitchling

And I'm feeling the season this year.
The light returns--in comparsion to where I was and how I was feeling this time, last year, yeah I feel it in my bones this year and I'm grateful that over these months, with intention so much has healed.

Happy Winter Solstice!

“Something in us needs to know that at the end of the longest night, there will be light.
In connecting with the natural world in a way that honors the sacred immanent in all things, we establish a resonance with the seasons. Ritual helps to shift our consciousness to reflect the outer world inside our inner landscape: the sun stands still within us, and time changes. After the longest night, we sing up the dawn. There is a rejoicing that, even in the darkest time, the sun is not vanquished. Sol Invictus — the Unconquered Sun — is seen once again, staining the horizon with the promise of hope and brilliance.”
~ Huffington Post Religion Editors

Wednesday, 20 December 2017

So blah blah blah

There was a time and I've written about it among these very pages, where he would beat me for being sick and fuck it right out of me.
Ah, those were the days.

Current day, just trying to survive as this viral infection runs its course, as I can take absolutely nothing to help it along, homoeopathic remedies aside.

And? Being foodsource while being down and out? Not fun.
Not even one little bit fun.

But this is life. Aren't ya glad you're reading about it? *weary sigh*.

Friday, 15 December 2017

Bah bah la

Its been a week.
Kind of a meh, bah week.

My ability to communicate was off with ALL my circle and life was just kind of getting on my nerves and I feel like i didn't accomplish a single thing, every day and I'm wondering why on earth didn't I do all of my seasonal gift buying on amazon?

Like, hello?!

Its been cold and I've been cooped up all week and its snowing and cold and snowing and cold and I wish I could do more than I am doing.

And apparently there are only two restaurants that we can eat at that doesn't cause me to have an anxiety attack and walk out--or want to...

But whatever.

This time of year can be brutal, hope you all are hanging in there as best you can.

Thursday, 7 December 2017

Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza 2017

Today's the day! Cookies everywhere!
This year I present to you a cupcake.
Its not very festive.And its certainly not a cookie.

What it is however, is eternal proof of my masochism.
*weary sigh*.

This cake is dense, more like a pound/coffee cake and it isn't overly sweet.
The buttercream is just enough icing sugar to make it stiff and its still more yellow than white.


1 and 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
1 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg, room temperature
1/4 cup sour cream

3/4 cup milk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/4 cup unsweetened natural cocoa powder

Preheat oven to 177°C). Line muffin pan with 12 cupcake liners
Make the cupcakes: in a medium bowl, mix together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Set aside. Melt butter in another bowl and whisk in sugar. Stir in egg, sour cream, milk and vanilla extract, stir until combined. Slowly mix into dry ingredients. Transfer about 3/4 cup of batter to another medium bowl. Mix in cocoa powder and a tablespoon of milk until combined.
Here you can either pour the chocolate batter into the vanilla batter and swirl with a knife, or alternate spoonfuls into each cupcake liner. Bake for 20-24 minutes.

Buttercream frosting:

1 cup unsalted butter, slightly room temp.
3-4 cups icing sugar
2 tablespoon vanilla extract
4 tablespoons heavy cream

Beat butter for a few minutes, with forks or a mixer, slowly add sugar and then vanilla extract and cream.

Here are the other participants of this year's goodie exchange!



Bogey and Bacall










Mrs. Fever

Ms Dixie Wrecked






selkie (recipe here)

Saturday, 2 December 2017

Little things...

As much as I love this season that we are in, it pains my hear that my collar is being used as a paperweight.

My week got better.
Thanks for the love, my friends.

Wednesday, 29 November 2017

Failing words

I wish I had words...
To convey how hard this week is for me.
And how much I wish it wasn't like this.
And how sorry I am it is and it might forever be like this.
And how much regret I harbour that this week is what it is..and how

I long to consciously turn my attention to all the joy filled things
so big and so enough that the anxiety isn't present
But how I wish I had the words to tell you, I do. I do.
I do this in a way that leaves me with no regrets.
Not a single one.

I wish I had words...
To tell you.

Tuesday, 21 November 2017

It is...

I have been feeling pretty good, all things considered.
My feet are still healing; we are still cooped up but you know, managing.

At some point, during the day, I was even contemplating future stuffs.
I was hoping to get time in for a project.
And thinking that I was healed up enough for sex.
Sex would be good.
Kind of remarkable that I feel that way and that in itself was something to
feel good about. You know?

He took BB out.
And they went and did a holiday thing together.
The thing we do every year, since moving here.
He excluded me.

I was too sad to even be mad about this and too disbelieving to really feel angry.
I was just sad.
Because have I mentioned how hard it is to be cooped up? And why does he get to be the fun one? He has been getting to do all the cool things and go and have fun in all the places while I'm at hope with new offspring.
So not fair, I tell you.

He felt bad about it. Really bad.
And that's good, because I want him to feel bad about it.
Proof that he isn't a full sociopath.

I know he didn't do it on purpose and it was a getting-caught-in-the-moment-thing but still, I felt hurt.
So I angry texted him and said my piece when they got home and said I didn't want to hear about it (notice "said" not "yell")
And laughed because it was totally up to him to get BB settled after being overstimulated, so ha.

He apologized later and made me tea.
I forgave him.
He said we would go do the thing later and that helped a bit.

Part of this is me reeling from the adjustment--I haven't had the chance to be the one that goes and does all those fun things for many weeks--and partly because I really did feel hurt.

His rule --back when--was that I wasn't allowed to be angry at him.
These days, everything is on the table and we are getting better at fighting fair and I'm getting better at not yelling.

And sex.
His rule--back when--was I wasn't allowed to say "no".
He hasn't asked.
And even without the construct of M/s, he is still my husband and I kinda feel that this falls under wifely obligation, so I wouldn't refuse him...though if he pushed and I wasn't healed, I would probably remind him what my body just did.

This morning, when I made coffee, I swept up the breadcrumbs he left on the counter, without mentioning that I hate breadcrumbs (he knows) and went on with life.
That totally warrants a pet on the head, right?

If you would like to read sex/kink/bloggers who actually write on sex/kink, please see the blogroll to the right.

Monday, 20 November 2017

On it goes

Rolling in with another Monday.
He offered to make coffee on his way out this morning and idiot that I am, said, "no that's ok thanks."
Yeah, clearly I wasn't thinking.
Guess who made coffee an hour later?

Mondays are that hard transition of having another pair of hands to having none.
For me, its not the physicalness of this stage, but the mentalness.
I like my mental space.
And its a struggle to split that two or three ways.
I'm a one-person-at-a-time-kind of person.
I like that kind of all in intensity, I need that.
And the thing about the coffee? Why its taken on such great importance?
Because its the ONE thing that is ALL mine.
The ONE thing I don't have to share.
Its just MINE.

I'm tired of not writing (or publishing?), I'm tired of money woes and fruit flies.

And I would like to write something here more than whether or not I've had my morning coffee.
But I'm learning to be ok with lowering of standards and easing up on those expectations (having none gets me through the day a lot better) so it what it is, for now.

Thanks to all who dropped by for LOL Days.
I have two questions in my inbox from that's some content coming, hopefully soon and I have drafts, because I'm ever hopeful.

Friday, 17 November 2017

LOL Days are here!

Welcome to LOL Days 12!

Say "hey" if you like and if not, I understand and appreciate your readership all the same.

Thanks for hanging with me.

Thursday, 16 November 2017

Walking by

"You would look good in that", He says to me.
We were doing the shopping thing and walked past a lingerie store.
"That's a nice thing to say to me after just having an offspring but its a lie."
Five sizes between the first and the second. Five.
He insisted it wasn't a lie and it made me smile.

It made me ponder, later...about those lies.
I don't lie well. Or easily.
And its stupid to lie to an empath.

But what about those little white lies that are threaded through most relationships? The response to,"Does this make me look fat?"
And if you don't have those...are you missing something?
Is too much truth and honesty, too much?

These things, I ponder.

Wednesday, 15 November 2017

And IN...

Gods know why.
Its coz I like this place just a little too much.
And I don't overshare anywhere else.

LOL Day is coming! This very Friday and Saturday and I'm in for that *nods* so all of you lurking types, this is your heads-up. Come say "hey" ...I guess I need to open up the comments to complete the part of the deal.

And I'm in for cookie day too! And that's because I like Jz. But really, cookies!
Last year, I *did* manage to try out a multitude of different offerings and I always learn a new trick or two in seeing the yeah, I'm in!

In other news, I haven't managed to drink my coffee while its still hot in three days, I'm stupidly tired and still can't come up with much in the way of content...maybe because I'm not getting enough time to drink a cup of coffee *shrugs*.

Its that kind of week.

Friday, 10 November 2017

Being Choked By Normalcy

Its morning.
He's washing dishes, because if it wasn't for him, the Hovel would be completely in shambles. And I feel a bit of guilt because that's my job he's doing, as I do every time he does something.
Except for laundry--the laundry is all his.
He made coffee and I'm making breakfast and we chitchat and talk about the day's plans and what we are going to do and hey, we made it to Friday and I put the coffee in the mug for him, he says thanks and he hands me a glass of water and tells me to drink it before I have coffee and I don't resist and drink the water even though I don't want to. 
Its all lovely.
And I'm being choked by normalcy. 
After these few minutes of quiet together, chaos erupts and both of us are already in different directions, taking care of different parts and its still lovely but noisy--oh goddess, how noisy my Hovel is these days! Only to get more noisy, I'm told--and its still lovely..though by this point in time, I'm starting to feel mildly jealous that he gets to walk out the door and leave this noise and chaos behind.
There's laughter and exchanges and happiness and harmony and this is good.

For me, I think D/s was an experiment. He wanted it and I wanted to see if I could do it and what it would be like and if we could take what we had in the bedroom 24/7.

Time grants a wider perspective.
There was a time, not that long ago that I was hurting so bad, I didn't want this...but that's the thing...I wanted the pain to stop. I'm not sure if I actually wanted to be without these bonds.
There is a lot to be said, for sticking it through.
But if I had the choice, I'm not sure I would be here now or if we would be here now.
Fortunately, I didn't have the choice.
I'm grateful that he has more faith than I do.

I so adore this piece from greengirl's tumblr, yes.

So we haven't had sex in forever and our days of M/s like we had are long over and who knows if we can even be kinky like we wanna be, and the rabbit hole we are currently in is KTTHA, we are still here.
That's cool.

Wednesday, 8 November 2017


Tired of cabin fever.
Tired of it taking forever to heal.
Having a moment or two of identity crisis.

So you know, the usual.

He made the comment a couple of weeks ago, that he liked punishment as part of our dynamic. 
Took me by surprise, because we haven't really talked stuffs like that and it kind of came out of context. And I thought he was happy with out that--and it was so long ago--

I don't know if we will ever have the intensity that we did once, in our M/s power exchange--maintaining that took a ton of focus and energy--different kind of energy--and I need more self to function now.  Can it be maintained 24/7? Absolutely. 
Can it be maintained while keeping the tiny humans alive? Hell no.
 For us at least, we can't. 

And I'm okay with this--even though I kind of grieve it every once in awhile--because where we are now and what we have is good. Its good.

But what does that leave us?
Maybe kinky in the bedroom, if we can ever find the hour to test out whether or not I can take any kind of kinky? 
Definitely still his, still owned...But for him there is latitude there, because once upon a time, he preferred that the emotions were more trampled down...that I controlled them more and I did at the time.
We know its better to emote. And to emote with each other and to each other and in so many ways, we are more open and honest and transparent now, than ever before...But there is a control that was once there, that isn't now. I kind of miss that.

Does it mean I go and be me and do all the me things and that's fine, and being without the nitty-gritty of protocols and rituals and not saying no to him and giving him access whenever? 
 For someone whose kink is control, that seems like it wouldn't be enough.
But its where we are hovering now. 


I go back and forth, wondering if I should still blog here or go somewhere else to write. I go back and forth wondering if I should tak about the stuff I do under this handle. Then I get a message from a Dom asking about PPD symptoms...and then I realize, the kink community is my community and I can serve here. So I overshare/talk/tweet about birth trauma under this handle and carry on.
 The content is lacking but I'm still here.

If you need someone to share that holiday drink with, I'm fond of the gingerbread...justsayin'

Saturday, 4 November 2017

Oh If I could...

I would hug my brain.
Giving it lots of coffee.
 The difference between last time and this time, is mind-boggling.
I can think.
I'm sleep-deprived and exhausted and I want to curl up with my Kobo, eat junk food, watch Netflix, be on a beach somewhere, my days are insanity and very, very, very, very long, my foot/toes are still not healed, the cabin fever is seriously getting to all of us in the Hovel, but I can think.

Which makes me rather useful.
He likes me useful.
I would like to get to the being used part of the equation...but that whole healing thing is taking its time. *sighs* But I can think.

Happy weekend, friends. 

Friday, 3 November 2017

You Say Doormat Like its a Bad Thing..

Couple weeks back, a reader wrote to say, they wouldn't be reading here anymore.

I didn't respond because I didn't think it was worth responding to and gods damn, I'm too sleep-deprived and too postpartumy to really care all that much. I thought it was kinda cute. You can consider this a reply.

They took issue with this post and this line:

"Because to tell me to leave or walk away, is ignorant and disrespectful of the confines of my relationship"

I still stand by that.

There is always an outpouring of support when we get questions like, "How can I make my whatever more Dom-like?" or "How can I be more submissive?"
Support for creating D/s relationships but not for maintaining them.
Instead the advice given when its not so glossy  is to leave.
Kind of  an extreme line for the community to take, don't you think?

Also, in that post?
That's me keeping on.

But its certainly not his ideal of surrender. It was me coping.
I don't know how not to do things.
I don't know how not to be his doormat.

No matter if he falters, because human, I keep on doing my thing because commitments are not conditional, not in my world. And my convictions just might be as strong as superman.

For the submissive defintion of doormat, see here.
( be correct, let's re frame that to be: for a submissive definition of doormat that rings true to me, see here). be correct again: My convictions ARE as strong as superman.

At least.

Tuesday, 31 October 2017

To On the Way to Thrive

I have been sidelined this season.
The season of Harvest festivals and pumpkin-spice everythings.
My favourite season.
I've sat it out, because we are in that stage that doesn't allow you to do much else other than attend to the all-consuming-needs of that.
And its good.

So good.

But it got to me a bit.
There is no pumpkin in the Hovel, no stew simmering on the stove, no bread in the oven-
I can't find the kitchen, we are just out of the living-on-pizza-stage-no candles on the altar.
And it got to me yesterday.

We had an amazing weekend, where we were connected and together.

Then Monday.
Being stuck inside got to me.
My feet aren't ever going to heal, its always going to be like this, I can't figure out the logistics of how to leave the Hovel...the feeling of never ever ever being able to leave the Hovel, and not being able to do all the things, got to me.

So we argued, because we do that.
And we made up, because we do that.

We did one thing for this season and that thing of course was what was important to him.
The things that I wanted? That were important to me? Not a priority.
And that's how it is, but it gets to me. Maybe it shouldn't, maybe it won't in time again, or maybe it always will. It doesn't matter.

How I feel about it, doesn't change it. And as Mouse said here, "Owners don't have to make their property feel better about being property."

This date is about letting go of the old and welcoming the new.
And I feel this past couple of months, we have done that.
We have talked about our O/p dynamic and what it is and what it needs to be to function well and be healthy and thriving, going forward.

There is a forward.
There is a next stage, for us.

Its a strange thing, when you overshare in the (sometimes)-public realm, you open yourself up to opinions and criticism.
So I know there are those who thing that this M/s should be set in stone, that it can never be changed or altered.

But life changes and alters and we have changed and been altered.
That's the reality, I think, of a long-term power exchange, within a long-term relationship. You are living life together and life does that shaking it all up thing. That's my reality, anyways.

You adapt, or you don't survive.
If I had a glass of pumpkin spice mead, I would raise it.
Cheers to survival!

Samhain Blessings to all those who would welcome them!

Thursday, 26 October 2017


He's making me do a Very Stressful Thing today.
I so don't wanna.

In my opinion, there is no reason to do this Very Stressful Thing.
He decided, so we I am.

Also, in my opinion, I don't get why he would choose to make me do this Very Stressful Thing...because he is the one who has to deal with the fallout.

So if it causes me undue anxiety or triggers a stress response, the emotional soup is his to deal with.
Given that, I'm trying to believe that this is very important to him.
That lessons the angst about doing the Very Stressful Thing.

Still don't wannna.

Wednesday, 25 October 2017

Just coffee.

Rolling on.
Days are becoming a little more adjusted.
My ankle is looking more like an ankle and my toes are looking less deformed.

I'm getting a bit-stir-crazy...a lot stir-crazy. I want out of here! Outside!
Yeah, I can only hobble to the kitchen, to the coffee.
And I haven't figured out how to get out of the house yet.
Its easier the second time around but some things have to be relearned.
I forgot how much I like the coffee.

Wishing I was all healed up.
Thinking about sex and kinky things
my twitter feed is inspiring ( ). and sexy kinky things and kinky things that haven't been done in awhile and kinky things that won't be done, ever (needle play...oh but how I wanna).

Drinking the coffee.
Doing the adulting thing.
Doing the functioning thing <---Amazing, yes?

Hope the coffee is good where you are, my friends.

Saturday, 21 October 2017

These 30 Days...and more

Oh sweet Goddess, they have been hard.
So hard.
Truly, truly hard.

But they have been everything.
So everything.
Absolutely, truly everything.

We can do hard things.
Its what happens when you choose the path less trodden
And sometimes I feel pained, knowing you wouldn't be on this path
...if I wasn't the crazy girl who came along and shook up all your perfectly lined up boxes
But then I remember, you chose me, knowing full well my relantionship with chaos,
knowing I couldn't help but shake up those boxes.

In these 30 days, we have loved.
We have breathed.
We have healed.
We have joined.

Thank-you for creating space and breath for me to heal and for us to be.

Each day, of these 30 days, you have made me feel cherished.

Thursday, 19 October 2017


After the meme post, a note from Elle asked me if there were any piercings/tattoos I would want but don't have?

And yes there are, see this old post, too.

I have always loved the look of an eyebrow piercing. He doesn't, so I can't have one. 

And thinking about this post, it made me realize how much there still is of the old us even in the new us.
Because even though I have autonomy over my body again, (had to take it back to heal)--though he says my body is just loaned back to me, its not permanent--I didn't run out and get an eyebrow piercing. He probably would have been okay with it, in light of the fact that the last year has been met with the attitude of "Let's do anything and everything we can not to have the experience we did last time", but I'm not sure if an eyebrow piercing would have done anything to heal me, or if I could have made an argument for it being healing.

 So he probably would have been hurt if I had gone and done it.
Counter-intuitive to what we are going for. 

Tattoos aren't appealing to me. I love the art, love the look of them on others, love hearing the stories behind me but, I'm not sure I could deal with something so permanent on me. However....

I would actually like a tattoo that says, "Owned."

When its all said and done, I identify as being property, as being owned. 
I can be bratty.
I can be incorrigible.
I can be one hot traumatized mess.
I can be all serving-him-with-a-smile
I can be all-here's-your-dinner-fuck-you
I can be all out of my mind and out of control and having a week from hell and a day from chaos and I can be all soft and vulnerable and wanting him to take me and show me...
 I'm still his

And even in these new days, where everything is new and we are finding us again, I can see how we are coming back here and there and into something new but still most definitely O/p. 

I want him to claim me again as property. 
There are moments. 
Me playfully talking back to him, him wrapping my hair around his fist and pressing my face into his thigh....moments we find. 

So yes, a permanent mark that etches that on my skin, holds great appeal. 


He won't let me. 
Because there would be something he would find wrong with it and to have that permanently etched on my skin, would annoy him to no end. 

So unless, he learns how to ink skin himself, me getting this permanent mark will never happen.

Then again, I wouldn't close the door on that possibility.  

Friday, 13 October 2017

Then and Now

I'm so exhausted
He's talking to me.
About something he's read.
About something that happened at work.
About the weekend.
About what we have to do next month.
He's talking to me, about many things.

And its quiet and its dark.
And I'm exhausted.
He's looking at me, with this expression on his face-as if he's seeing me for the first time.
 It kind of makes me feel weird and soaring all at the time.

"Stop talking to me. You're talking to me as if I'm a normal functioning person."
"But you are! You so are", he says it with complete glee. As if something really astounding has occurred. "You are functioning".
He's grinning at me and it makes me growl.

I'm exhausted.
I have cried so many times this week, over the littlest things.
I have begged him--damn well pleaded with him, to please, please, please don't make me do it all over again tomorrow.
I've told him that this is hell, that I would rather be back in highschool.
He's pushed me this week.
He knows it.
And just because I'm strong af, it doesn't mean that I wanna.
I have no limits.
He's been making me want a big old red button.
My stupid ankle is taking forever to heal--even though I am throwing all the arnica-comfrey-advil-things at it and I'm pretty sure I have a broken toe.

But I showered.
I washed my hair.
I used some gods-awful-lush-shower-gel.
I washed my body.
I thought about the weekend plans and plans for the business, and I thought about hockey and I thought about calling my brother, and I thought about getting together with a friend, and I thought that I should really clean my bathroom tiles and I thought about an article I had read.

I showered.

Three years ago, I couldn't.
three years ago, I would run the water as hot as I could take it and stand under it, letting it run over my hair and neck. The only places that the water didn't hurt when touched and get out as quickly as I could.
 Getting ready for bed one night after my hot-water-hair-rinse, he handed me a shirt, put a hand on my shoulder, looked down.
"Sweetheart, there is still blood and it looks pretty haven't washed, have you?"
And I collapsed in his arms, in tears.
He brought me to the bed, laid me down and with a warm washcloth and cloth of gauze, cleaned all my bloody dirty parts as the tears seeped out of me, soaking the pillows, soaking my neck.
And after he had finished? I jumped up off the bed and screamed at him, in a fit of rage.
 We didn't know then, that rage was one of those tell-tale symptoms.

So I showered.
And my heart wasn't beating out of my chest.
I didn't feel red-hot-rage take over me.
My mind was not stuck replaying the same loop over and over and over again.

I had this notion, you see. That if I had the EXPERIENCE, it would---I don't know.
That the pain wouldn't be there? That it would negate the first experience?--I don't know.
That all the symptoms would be no more? I don't know.

I do know, that healing takes its own time.
And it can hurt. The brighter it burns.
And the then and the now can meet and mingle and while I feel overwhelming love and joy and gratitude for the now, I can still grieve the then. That the two are both my experiences and its going to take time for them to be woven into a narrative that is seamless.

Its not a bad start, on the whole, though.

Thursday, 12 October 2017

Meme Time, Meme Place

Meme Time, Meme Place
Stole from JZ

Marriages – 1
Proposals – 1
Divorces – 0
Surgeries – 2
Tattoos – 0 but..maybe
Piercings – 1

Shot a gun – I'm an urban-living-liberal-Canadian-with-socialist-leanings...I don't even have context to answer this question with.
Like, what?

Quit a job – Ha.

Been on TV – It was an unfortunate experience I try not to think about.

Fallen in love – For my sins.

Driven cross country – Sort of. East to West. And my role was passenger.

Hit a deer – Uh, no.

Watched a birth – Yes! Of course! Daily for about eight months.

Ridden in an ambulance – Yeah.

Sung karaoke – Nope. I've bought many a drink to get out of it.

Ice skated – Ah, no. But my Owner seems intent on risking my bodily health and overtaxing my misfiring neurons by thinking I *should* try it, sometime, every winter the subject comes up.

Been surfing – Nah.

Seen the ocean – Yes. And I don't understand why this isn't a daily occurrence.

Ridden a horse - Every chance I get. Need more chances. Missing those chances, hard.

Almost died – Yeah.

Been punched – Actually, no.

Punched back – Oh but I bite.

Are you:

In love now –
We are pretty doped up on those love hormones around here right now.

(oh, we’re done…)

Wednesday, 11 October 2017

The crasher...

Over time, both of us have become better at spotting my emotional triggers. Because I live by emotions, I'm better at recognising when a trigger has been stepped on.

The physical, doesn't occur to me until after.

In this case, after two days of being stressed and having symptoms.
Two days of not being able to find mental relief.
Two days of me saying to those around me, "I'm stressed." (in other words, do something here, I'm floundering)

And then it dawned on me...

Since having BB, how my body responds to and handles physical pain is different. I am still holding out the hope that its not a forever thing, because I am still a masochist who would like to be a pain slut again some day, but time hasn't fixed this.

My threshold for pain is stupidly low.

Couple of weeks ago, I sprained my ankle. It wasn't ideal and it was horrible timing-really horrible timing--but I was handling it okay, all things considered.

But then I fell.
The healing ankle became bruised and the toes on my other foot jammed and bruised and that made me fall apart in a slow but not so noticeable way.
Because I was then in a situation where I couldn't move very much and my mobility was nil.

...lost count of the triggers there, but more than plenty to set off the stress responses.

Add in the fact that I was feeling all alone and abandoned and I'm miffed that he's leaving us--can't be helped but still--it was the perfect storm.

(He has been absolutely stellar-for the record- in helping me recover from the latest marathon but you know, that leaves brain in the midst of the stress responses).

This has totally crashed our party.

And caused one hell of an emotional hangover. Enter now, archived post that some of you spotted, yesterday.


Better, now.
Drinking coffee now,
Doing this adult thing now,

Monday, 9 October 2017

Saturday, 7 October 2017

The soundtrack is gratitude

At night, when I need to be up and fill the long stretches, I've been playing things that make me laugh. I've been listening to music that makes me smile.

This time, is not like last time, but I'm aware that when the sun goes down, so often does the mood and I've been trying to fill-up on the happy to keep the swings at bay.

If I were to ask my dear Owner, what he would play to lift up his mood, he would rattle off ten, maybe twenty artists/bands/songs he would choose, just like that . I don't have the same acumen when it comes to music, so its actually a bit of a struggle to choose something to play as my backdrop for these long, lonely but oh so precious nights.

Its surprising to me though, that when I have chosen a song, it has to do with memories...often commiserating  a moment that is important to me, a song that marked an occasion that found its way into my memory banks. The soundtracks form and play, it seems, even if I wasn't aware of it before now, in this particular way.

This one...I've always been aware of because the memory that accompanies it, started everything.
This song was playing in a bar one evening, when we were on a date, so long ago now.
When he said the words.
And it was perfect.

So tell me friends, what do you chose to put on when you are having a bad day? What makes you happy to hear it play? I'm open to suggestions.

This weekend is our Thanksgiving holiday.
Our celebration is low key this year.
We are having pumpkin pie for breakfast.
It took four hours yesterday to get the pie from the bakery--but that's life right now.
 Sense of humour, oh so vital.
And I am so grateful that it is life right now.

Friday, 6 October 2017

When its like this

We have been all tucked in and cozy these past couple of weeks.
Completely and utterly doped up on love hormones.

And its been good.

Monday, 11 September 2017

Perfectly timed

I'm in the month that has 500 days.
But I'm not rushing this.
Oh no.
I'm not hoping for a quick end.
The tide is changing soon enough and I'm soaking up all the moments before our status quo is flipped forever on its head.

In the last few months, we have found a different place.
And sometimes I see glimpses of how we can circle back--not now, not for awhile but someday in the future.
What's a handful of years, compared to decades?

There are no clocks in my kitchen.
Having no clocks, is part of what brings harmony to my space.
He would rather have a clock up.
But respects this and kind of indulges me on this one and can't refute my logic--we have other time-telling things of course, cellphones, tablets, laptops, the variety of devices.

In my space, no clocks.
Here, I won't be measured to someone else's clock.
Not this time.

Wednesday, 30 August 2017

What`s missing and what is here...

Reminding me both of what is missing and what still exists,

"It was shelter that had no roof, and sustenance that had no weight, and air that didn't need lungs for the breathing." 
~J.R. Ward, The Angel's Share

Aren't those good words?
 This series isn't my usual but how I have fallen for it, hard.

Monday, 14 August 2017

And time

One of us made a comment about wanting time.
Which of course translates to wanting sex...

Time is passing. Its getting to be...I'm getting to be achy.
At night.
Really achy.
In all the places.
Super achy.

There I was with a pillow under my back. A pillow between my knees. A pillow under my hip. A pillow supporting my shoulder. My arm over a pillow. My hips, on a pillow.

And no, no, you can't move me because I just got somewhat comfortable.

So you know, if you are determined that we are having sex in this breath of time, then you're the one who is going to have to get real creative.

He did.

It was comical.

One of those old-sweater comfy moments because you know, there's no way in seven hells you would be attempting this with anyone you didn't feel that comfy with. Some part of me, liked that there is still that comfort. That we can still joke and laugh and navigate awkward moments seamlessly.

The friendship is still there. It still carries us through.
And sometimes, that's everything.


Alongside with this being comical and comfy, there was a certain detachment to it.
 It was clinical.
He was determined.
He wasn't taking no for an answer.
He was using me.

And that felt damn good.

I still need to be used and useful.

I wish that would dawn on him more.....

So time, time is marching on.

Everything in the Hovel is irritating me.
I don't think anything will be ready.
My patience is so short.

I'm actually just kind of irritated at pretty much everything.

Time is slowing right down and coming to a stall.

Tuesday, 1 August 2017

the ebb

I was reading a draft of a WIP this morning and it brought memories to mind. 

It wasn't so long ago that, the control he had over me was so great and all consuming, that I didn't use the toilet without a clothespin on each nipple--and they were labelled, "left" and "right". 

It took years to build. Years of give and take and trust and feeding and tending and it seems like, it is all gone.
We are ghosts of what we were. 

So many say, that nothing changes their M/s status.
And maybe that is true in word. Because in word, he would still say that he owns me. 
And depending on the day, I would say the same, yes but depending on the day, there might be conditions attached to, "what choice do I have?"
But it takes energy and time and focus to feed the kinks. 
It takes energy and take and focus to calibrate the relationship in the power dynamic. 
Our day starts at 7am, ends at 12am. 
He hasn't offered me anything in a long while.
He hasn't initiated anything.
And I've poked and prodded and asked for more. 

I go around somewhat insecure. 
At loose ends. 
I go around not feeling loved by him or cherished or assured in the connection that was once so pure and solid. 
But somehow, we are still here.
We still laugh. 
We ebb and flow...or he weathers my storms and I weather his withdrawn-ness and detachment. 

His focus is things outside the Hovel. 
Mine is the things inside. 
And we are just trying to keep all the spinning plates spinning. 
United in the goal of keeping the tiny humans alive. 

Maybe, that's just the stage of life we are in. 

But oh, how I miss it.
I miss the all consuming focus I gave him, all the space in my head that belonged to him. 
I miss the feeling of actively feeling owned and controlled by being his.
And I miss who we were. 

Just like I miss who I once was. 

Tuesday, 6 June 2017

Just one more thing

For the last little while and the foreseeable future, Tuesdays are rough.
Extra activity, forced soicalization kind of thing occurs.

It leaves me empty.
Pretty much brain dead.
Physically exhausted.

So I'm achy and done.
I can't possibly imagine doing anything extra on a day like today. Not one thing. 
Its a do the bare-minimum to survive along with the extra activity kind of situation.

Doing anything for him or with him in mind, impossible. 
 As much as I crave a bit more attention, a bit more structure, a bit more direction..................
then again, he was never a micro-manager anyways (unless he is stressed...and I don't react well to

But I kept the tinyhumansalive and I made dinner--without collapsing or calling for pizza, so win.

He gets in and talks at me.
Asks me about time lines and scheduling and details.
And I'm done.

Like, I just need to finish making dinner. 
Its the only thing I can handle.
I can't give my brain or attention to what he's asking me.

I feel like he should know this.
He does know this.
So I snap in a wholly unslave like way and continue on with continuing on--

And all I can think about is just eating something and getting in hot water of some kind to ease my achy-overworked body.

But then I also think about later.
After bedtime.
about how he totally-so-owes me an orgasm (ha).
And I hope that this is our later...
And there is a part of me that wants him to call me on the whole snapping-at-him-thing..

Really? I just want not to think for awhile.
Yet..I am the schedule-minute-detail keeper and organizer, 
and that's exactly what I want to be.

But I want that pause.
Him not letting the thoughts crowd my head
Him taking away my ability to think.
That's what I want.

Thursday, 1 June 2017

When life

Sometimes, I wish he wasn't my only.
That he wasn't the only one I had.
That he wasn't my only back-up when it came to BB.

For both of us.
Other than it being hard and exhausting at times, I question how the health that causes or doesn't.
We realized recently, that he needs breathing room too and its hard for him to step away.

But when he does, its so much better.
When he takes that pause, that breath, he comes back charged and then can give and direct and we have our ebb and flow back.

I'm thankful he was there for me this morning.
When I had no sleep and had spent hours throwing up and when morning came way too fast.
I'm grateful that he took over and that he stepped in.
I am so glad he was there and took the thinking, the decision-making away from me for a few hours and didn't leave until he thought I could manage again.

I felt truly cared about and taken care of and worthy.

And that's something that we have learnt too.

In some ways, we need different things than we did in the earlier years of our relationship.
I used to be anticipatory-service oriented and now my brain goes into a tailspin if I try but that's what he required for many, many years.
He doesn't require those types of things anymore.

But I do.
I need him just to..every now and then, think for me.
 Look after me in ways previously I would have scoffed at.

He has that need to be more of that protector, that Alpha in the true sense.

Thursday, 25 May 2017

Service and the rest

Middle of the night.
BB is wheezing and snorting in his sleep.
a cold.
Its a rare occurrence.
And I'm trying to calm down the hind brain.

Came out into the kitchen.
Pulled a mason jar of bone broth out of the freezer.
Because, soup is the answer.

I'll ask him to go to the store before work to pick up a handful of veg--the long weekend threw us off the typical course of restocking.
And I would rather not take BB out in the pouring rain.
But I will feel guilty for asking him to run an errand before he starts his work day.

I know he won't mind.

Doesn't matter.

I'll make soup.
And BB will be over whatever it is, in like a day or two.

Me of course, will come down with the plague.
Because I still feed him with my body so its impossible not to catch whatever it is he has and I think through healing BB, with those magical antibodies, my body absorbs it all (my scientific facts on that are sketchy but mama experience trumps that *nods*).

I remember one blog friend, commenting while I was pregnant with BB that they couldn't imagine M/s while their family was young. The emotional energy it takes to sustain the offspring and the focus and space M/s takes is too much of a balancing act.

And the truth is, I think it is.
Our family is young. We are in that stage of raising and growing and keeping the tiny humans alive.
That, of course trumps everything else.

Slowly though, I think we are pulling in some of that connection. Those reminders that we still are us, we still are what we are to each other.
Its not as pure as it was.
He can't be my all, my everything. There isn't space for him to take over my brain.
But the reminders that he was--and still is beyond the current is important.
And I still have issues with giving over the same amount of control and willpower I once entrusted him with.
But...feeling the yank and pull.
Giving over to him in little ways.
Him learning to compromise with me in little and big ways.

We are united in the goal of keeping the tiny human alive.

That has been our saving grace.

As I ponder what I need and as our family shifts, I'm beginning to sense a new place where I want to be. I want to be that living breathing hearthsapce, that centre.

Which brings me to this comment by dear M, that over two years later, still lingers in my mind:

" 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?"

I'm starting to and that's starting to grow into a new frame, for me.
He does see it that way.
And in many ways, I have never felt more like his property than when doing all those daily grinding mama things.

Wednesday, 24 May 2017

the X

It should be really simple.
But of course, it isn't.

I've been asking for more, I've been wanting more, I've been spinning in my own world, casting about for more.

He gave me more.
 Implemented something.
 He wants me to do x.
X didn't sit well with me, I protested x.
I cried about x, I twisted away from him in a futile attempt to keep him from mentioning x.

He kept on, though.
To the point where I was spent.
"You wrecked me", I said through tears.
"Its what I do", he said simply.
Its true.
Its how he gets into my head, its how he pushes past my defences.

This part doesn't feel comfortable or good or pleasing or enjoyment
or bliss.
It feels wrecked.

If x was something for him, I think it would have been different.
I think I would have added it to my juggling plates without a protest.
He did ask me to do something new for him and I didn't have any resistance--it was in fact, just another thing that didn't alter my status quo.

But this x wasn't for him.
It was for me.
He got personal.
Went straight for the heart.

I felt awful about my reaction.
But yet, whenever he asks me about x I can't quite drop the defences.
I get all snarly.
That's not the response he's going for.
Its not exactly the response I want to give, either.

Monday, 22 May 2017


He knew what I wanted but made me ask.
He's a bastard like that.
Asking involves opening up.
Asking involves being vulnerable and honest.
Asking involves taking that risk.
Asking generates the ebb and flow of the power exchange.
Asking fuels it, makes it live and breathe.
I asked.

It was sweet.
It was good.
It was rough.
Pulling my pussy lips apart and twisting my tongue and slapping my breasts, kind of good.
Withering on the floor, at his feet, asking for more, kind of good.

"More", I said.
More, debasement, more humiliation, more being taken.
"How much more do you need?" He grinned.
"So much more. I'm a greedy attention seeking humiliation slut."
He laughed and indulged me.

I felt the armour crumble.
He found his way in.
We might not have what we did, but the foundation is still there.

It took years of his training, for me to spill out words like those and there is comfort in knowing that I still can, at his command.

Saturday, 20 May 2017


In so many ways, I feel like I am living every letter of those words.

It might be easy to look in from the outside and claim that we are not what we are, and it might be true. It might be the impression I leave you with. It might be easy to say we can never be what we were again and that might be true, too.

But, a relantionship only belongs to the people who are in it. He has not changed our terms and as much as I might resent that and wish it were different, the fact is, he is the only one who gets to make that call.

In many ways, I feel like this time is testing my mettle. My past claims of devotion and loyalty and slavery, it may not be kinky marathon times but it is in a way, a time of relearning each other. He is slowly allowing that I need boundaries. And that's weird for both of us but if our goal, like it has been, is a harmonious relantionship, in a harmonious household and the pursuit of both of our happiness, then that bend has to be made--my health requires it.

This is a different time that we are in and its new.
Just like the beginning where there was struggle and inner conflict, there is now.
We haven't been here before.
But its not all that bad.
If its not the all consuming-intensity of our past M/s, it is still real, it is still us. The core is there, if the undertones have changed to be more subtle and sweeter.

I want to find my way back. I'm waiting for him to reclaim me.
I want to feel the surety of his strength and love and I want to feel that sense of being owned that I've been hungry for.

Thursday, 18 May 2017

The emotional weight and pull

(Blog is open again)

This week has been a huge emotional hangover.

The first words out of my mouth this morning to him were, "I wish you would initiate."
I feel like a nagging, broken record.

To be fair, I should have started with :Good morning.

I value words. But I value actions so much more, especially when the words have lost the meaning.
I need a lot more than I used to.

But its the same theme over and over again.

I'm not being heard.

What does this leave me with?

Accepting that this is how it is, over and over and over again, fighting with myself and trying to keep the angry vibes at bay.

Friday, 12 May 2017

Stormy week

Last week, I entertained thoughts.
Fantastical thoughts.
Thoughts about how we could maybe pull in some of that power exchange.
Because I crave it.
I need it.
His dominance, gives me reassurance. His dominance, still calms my storm.
So I thought of things, how to feed that connection, if we could stir it back to life, add to the daily rote.
Things like maintenance canings and daily mantras and one task for him and from him, entered my mind.
It was kind of a high to swim with these possibilities.
It was me who was thinking the thoughts.
I would rather it come from him.
Still, it was a good place to be because I felt myself shift towards him.
Probably not completely but a maybe...I can..make room in my brain to feed the needs of both of us that aren't being fed.
That was last week.

And this week, it came crashing down.
Because this week I felt alone and abandoned.
I felt neglected and unheard.
Ignored and dismissed.

The slip of light under the door vanished.
His dominance gives me reassurance, when its there and not the cold cruel shoulder, when he disappears, my storm spirals.

Wednesday, 10 May 2017

So that suffering thing...

What do you do when the person who is supposed to love you turns deaf to what it is you want?
Even when that want becomes a need so intense it suffocates you and you feel like you cannot spend another moment in the current situation?
What do you do when they don't hear you?
 They don't care, they ignore and carry on?

Eventually stop crying and continue to suffer.

Because there are no other options.

today is one of those days where I am cursing this damned union.

Tuesday, 9 May 2017


Apparently, I do work better when I have an audience.
I have a revised chapter of that spanking romance novel I said I would write way back when, and I have to stop trying for perfection on it. The goal is to just to continue on and on to "done".
Looking for a beta reader or two, to gauge whether or not it is reader-worthy.
 I can offer you my heartfelt gratitude.
Want to get in on the deal?

Friday, 5 May 2017


I feel behind at this life thing.
Like, I`m not doing enough. Or should be doing more.
That I'll never get to doing all the things I want to do.
And I would actually like some of the actual things.
 I feel behind.

I was going back through my memories and wondered, how did it start? How did we go from being kinky in the bedroom to a D/s and then to this O/p? I didn't just hand over the power overnight. Nor did I surrender.
It took work.
A lot of work.
And time.
And it took belief.
I had to believe in his vision for us.
I had to feel secure in what he was wanting was worth it.
I had to entertain the possibility that the words he was saying, would come true.

It started off with little things.
He added more.
Demanded more.
Took more.
Until my will was fully and surrendered to his.
It was beyond where we started and even how we initially lived as D/s.
It morphed into a constant flow, the dynamic was a living, all encompassing entity.
The last year before BB was even a thought, I think was our height; I see that time as being true surrender; there was no testing, no questioning, no more breaking.
I felt loved.
I felt cherished.
I felt purpose.
I felt like how I was living was exactly right.

How did it start?
How did I give over to his way?
How did I catch on to the belief?

He showed me.
He kept his word.
He showed me.
He told me.
And did it.
He put thought into action.
And I believed him.
                 I miss that. All of that. Some days I miss it so much, I weep.

It was to the point where I couldn't not believe him, even now its impossible for me not to fling my heart onto his words, no matter that I know they won't come true.

My mind plays tricks on me and starts to wonder...
If we can even have a little of that now.
It can't be impossible.
It wouldn't be the same.
But I can't split my devotions.
And I can't give us space and time.

And my heart knows, even while it still flings, that its going to get hurt every time I give over that belief and it doesn't hold true.

Friday, 28 April 2017

Even so...

 I know, through the mess in my head, that my cold logic has put a lock on my heart...because I'm still hurting. That logic, is new to me.
I'm used to leading with my heart. 
And it makes me loose perception.
It hasn't let me feel as deeply as I'm accustomed to.
But I know...
He is trying and doing the things to put us back on centre.
I know, he loves me. 

Thursday, 27 April 2017

Now like then..

I'm reminded that what I want, does not matter.
He tells me it matters. He tells me it does.
But what he wants, matters more.
Overrides my wants and needs and his silences mine.

Its a horrible, awful feeling not to find comfort or be made comfortable in your own home, to have your voice silenced where you should be heard.
Is it any wonder, I dream of elsewhere? I wish for more?
 But these are my walls.

Wednesday, 26 April 2017

More from then

We didn't take a break from M/s.
He doesn't believe that taking a break is a thing, to him that would be calling quits and he won't do that.
We might be more lax and certainly in the last three years, we have had less kink, but we are still us. I'm still owned.
Nothing has changed that.

But I wonder, if he had said we are taking a break, if that would have made me feel as if I had some of the freedom I was craving? I don't know.
Probably not. I probably would have felt more alone because I still couldn't leave and now I have him telling me that I wasn't his. No winning there.

There is only so much you can do to check out when you are still physically in the same space.
I wasn't putting forth effort, or going out of my way but you know, meals still were cooked and floors still swept and life still went on--my torment aside.

My head and heart were not in agreement on anything. My heart was wounded, my head was angry and there wasn't much meeting between the two.

That was then.

Saturday, 22 April 2017

On staying....

Its been about five months since that fight.
That conflict that broke something in me.
The effect of that, snuffed out what little hope I had, in what has been a seriously tough year for us.
I concluded, that it really was just my fate and it was what it was and there isn't a lot to do to change it. Things weren't going to get better despite how much effort was put forth.

After we got home, I became a cone of silence. I also cried to the vomiting point for three straight days. The enormity of my reality hit me in a whole scary way that it never registered before.

Being his property used to fill me with pride, giving up my will over to his is where I found my freedom and joy for many years.
In those stormy days, it filled me with dread.
I couldn't believe how much control, power and choice I didn't have--when I wanted out, when I wanted anything other than the reality I had, how little I actually did have came hit home.
 I had a horrible time reconciling that reality.

But when the enormity of what I didn't have hit me, there came this chilling acceptance.
 I went into self-preservation mode.
He owns me, that's my truth.
This was living the side that comes with no benefits, no fulfilment.
 I can't imagine it was the best time for him, either.

I micro-managed the few details I could control. I realized how much I truly hated being in that role of initiator and stopped doing it.
I stopped texting/calling/emailing/saying hello first, in all contexts and circumstances.
Amazing how quiet my days were.

Hurt and angry, I did the bare minimum around the Hovel and for him.
I did only what was necessary and clung and poured myself into the one thing that is constant joy.

I started making a point of doing little things that brought me comfort and just the enough stimulation that I needed. I mostly kept to myself.
My free moments were spent watching Netflix.

Various degrees to how much he and I were communicating during this time. He had apologized but it didn't ease the pain.
He slowly and steady made effort and slowly, I started to come our of my self-centric mode, survival mode, slowly.

I made it clear to him that I wasn't going to do anything that remotely resembled the circumstances of where and how that argument occurred, ever again. He could force me, of course, he could have said that's too bad and to suck it up.
He listened and understood and made concessions, agreeing it was best for the health of us.

When I referenced the kink community in the last post, I didn't mean that I needed to pour my heart out to listening ears. There are so few that I trust, that even if I was still involved in the community, I wouldn't say anything.
But there is something to being seen in the relationship you are living, and I think that is what I miss. That knowing that there are others who find this way acceptable, who see you.
In an idealistic world, it would have been nice to have it said, "Hey. I know you are in a sucky place with no escape possible. How are you coping?"

Because to tell me to leave or walk away, is ignorant and disrespectful of the confines of my relationship.

So few talk about the rough times while living a M/s and I refuse to believe that because its not spoken or written about, it doesn't happen.
Most of what I have come across is that there couldn't possibly be conflict in a M/s dynamic because its structured to basically kill that at the onset.
And of course, the standard other advice is when things get rough, call an end to it.

But what about when life happens?

How does life not change one or both of the parties involved?
 You still cling to a structure, a dynamic that doesn't allow for growth?
Illness, life changes, challenges, grief, none of that affects you?

Or maybe we are the only ones who struggle *snorts*.

He was my safe place.
So yes in dealing with all that happened, my feelings were flung, words were hurled and he was there as I worked through all of it. And it baffles me there are those who take the side of because I am his slave, I shouldn't have uttered unkind words, I should have just bottled up my feelings and kept quiet.

As much as my emotional soup is hard for him to deal with, he actually does recognise that not dealing with it would not contribute to good mental health. He wants me in one piece. He also wants all of me.

I am not the same as I was when I first started this blog.

I now know what it is like to have my voice ripped away from me, have connections shredded, have my consent violated, have what I want not matter at all---not by him but by the outside.

Yeah, all of that has changed me.

I can't reach that immaculate place of surrender.
Not when I needed to guard my own mind for my sanity, not when I needed to take back autonomy of my body in order to heal.

To the outside, I'm sure most days, even during this period, we looked like a happy family and in some moments, there was happiness.

But alongside that, hollow and painful.
When you know what the height is, when you know what its like to live the fulfilment of that oneness, that perfection, that we had achieved through M/s, anything less than that is a severe contrast.

In what ways I have changed and how and how that relates to our kink and our dynamic, is being sorted out. Its kind of like starting all over again.

He's had a hard time, I think, letting the old me, the old us, go.
 He has met me where I am though and maybe that's a tiny bit of hope crawling back in.

Five months and I feel like now, we are slowly climbing out of self-preservation mode. That we are at the point where we could go forward, even if I don't know what that forward looks like.

Its rocky.
We go forward two and back three.
But I didn't commit to being his under conditions that life would be easy, on the condition that our coffers would be full, that I would get everything I wanted handed to me. I didn't surrender on terms that I would always be happy or that there would be no pain.
 That's the horrible awful thing about love, it doesn't come with conditions, there are no take backs, at least not for me.

Life doesn't allow to be bound by protocols or hemmed in by ideals.

Thursday, 20 April 2017

You can`t always just leave

A few months ago, after one of the worse fights we ever had, I was not in a good place.
I wanted to leave.
Literally, leave.
If I had anywhere in the Universe to go, I would have.
I racked my brains trying to think of where I could go and there was no where.
And I knew there was no where but I still tried to find somewhere.
And no one that I could go to.
I didn`t have support of any kind.
No support emotionally for dealing with the issues I was having, no support in dealing with the issues we were having and no physical support. There is no couch to crash on in my world.
I stopped writing here, stopped trying to put voice to what was happening because there was no support to be found and no one understood.

Its so easy to chop a relationship down to black and white. So easy to put the blame on the person who has from all appearances, made the transgression.

Really easy, to say, `Walk away. Oh and if you don`t walk away, accept that *you* have chosen this. That you are staying even though you could go`.

In other words, shut up.

But there isn`t always a choice.
The chains of love, loyalty and devotion do not dissolve instantly and just because you accept something as being part of your reality, doesn`t mean you can`t bitch about it. And it doesn`t mean that it doesn`t hurt like a mother.

What I needed then, what I really needed, was to be heard. To be validated.
 Time and space away would have been healing, but I needed that reassurance that I wasn`t crazy in my mind. That I was still me, even though I was hurting, I was still capable of surviving.
I needed to be seen through the pain and I needed to be heard, to be reminded that I was more than that one moment, that one breath of time that led to those moments.

And what I also needed--and this is why I miss the kink community so much--was support to be in this damned union that I so wanted to flee. I am aware that I made choices. My vows and commitments mean something to me because in the end, that is the living sum of all of me, those things that say I am who I am, they speak to qualities, to things that are soul deep. And when you have nothing in this life other than your words, they are mighty important.

Monday, 2 January 2017

Greetings 2017

Happy New Year everyone! 

Resolutions don't jive with me, but intentions do. And I have a list of them. 
What about you?

First on that intention list, is writing. I plan to write new words this year. 

Feel free to harass me about it and I could always use a beta reader or two. 
I'm going to do that writing thing.

                                                   from Little Gidding 

Thank-you for hanging with me. Thank-you for reading.