Buried Treasure

Have you ever had one of those experiences where you look at yourself and your life and are amazed at what you see, what you've accomplished?

I'm having one of those moments right now.

I have been accomplishing so much lately; reaching out for help when I need it, developing practices to help me handle things easier, faster, getting my work accomplished to the best of my ability and with a smile on my face, and still getting the everyday things done.

I know this sounds repetitive, and in part it is, but I look at my day today and I've only taken 3, yes THREE, vicoprofen for the WHOLE ENTIRE DAY. I've been on top of social services to see if I am approved for food stamps (boy was that appointment an adventure and a half!). I've made an appointment for Friday to take pictures of my condo so I can post ads online. I worked both my jobs today and did it with a smile. I worked as hard as I could and did good. Hell, I got complimented like crazy, and that's always good. I spoke with my uncle and bless his heart he wants to contribute to the "get well fund" so I really will be able to make it after all (I celebrated by buying myself food, yay!). And the top "best of all" spots are taken by two things: today was the third day in a row I've gotten a decent night's sleep. And for the first time since the injury, I am reading consistently again. 

I'm exhausted, but I'm happy. And that's all I can ask for at the moment.

Fantasies

As I'm shoved further to confront the realities of my life, I have noticed that to counterbalance that which I am afraid to face my imagination, my need for escapism and creativity has been bumped up a notch.

I've been slowly writing something (pretty much one sentence at a time when I am fully lucid and not under the influence of pain pills) that I will eventually post. It is -- as are they all -- a simple scenario, triggered by a touch, a word, an image that blossoms majestically into a fantasy.

A fantasy where I am a lover.

A fantasy where I am a wife.

A fantasy where I am a mother.

A fantasy where I am acting and doing as I should, a strength, a pillar, an example to others.

Lately my fantasies have been not unlike this photo here. For me to be a woman on fine sheets, dressed nicely, cared for, adored. Add a little spanking, some hot wax... oh, I am a happy happy gal. I find it delicious and funny that 99% of my fantasies are attainable, so easy if I set my mind to it. And so, it doesn't surprise me that in my life now they meld together. I use the fantasies to escape and the fantasies remind me what I am working towards: Health. Balance. Joy.

And eventually to create a family with a man, my husband. Whom I can share that health, balance and joy with. You know, and have frequent mind-blowing sex with. With all the extras that BDSM has to offer.

Because that's just how I roll.

In Hiding

I haven't posted anything in the last three days. If I don't get something out I think my head may just explode. It's not that I haven't been writing, it's just... everything that comes out has been all "poor me wah wah wah."

And frankly, that's not exactly something I want to dwell on, let alone project to the world. The facts are these: I have a lot on my plate.

But here I am. The pain from my knee has become far more manageable which is an extremely good thing seeing as it will be weeks before I even get word that worker's comp has approved -- or denied -- my surgery. Functioning in everyday life, accomplishing tasks required of me, and still keeping some cognisance of mental stability has not only become easier, but well, better than it was before I could walk without pain.

I learned that my tenants of nearly three years are moving out of my condo at the end of May. The curse is that I no longer have their last month's rent. I take full responsibility for the mismanagement, and now I am left with scrambling on an extremely low income to find a way to not only pay for my rent, but my condominium's mortgage, and HOA dues. Let alone all my other bills. The silver lining in all this is that it is possible. It's looking like I might just be able to do it. And, my condo is in an extremely desirable area, nice and clean in a quite neighborhood. Oh, and bonus? For all it's amenities, getting someone to lease it for a year will be a piece of cake.

And lastly (or at least what I'm going to share), there is the task of finding a job -- a career -- for myself. I'm tired of living and working under my worth. I'm setting my bar higher, back to where it needs to be, in a field I can thrive in. Even if I don't have a college degree.

I'm not saying I don't still break down and cry, get stressed, I do. But it is a short burst and then it is gone, leaving me with more hope in its wake. I can't hide from my life just because I get afraid sometimes.

Fin.

Momma Bear

So, this is a teeny post, a teeny slice of the hell I've been going through -- and frankly failing in the end to stay positive about it. This post is also about the amazing woman who turned all Shirley McLaine, Terms of Endearment on the pharmacy's behind.

As I've noted before, my knee injury is a result of a kafooey I obtained at work. Thus getting my perceptions filled a little difficult. Long story short I ran out of vicoprofen at 6pm last night with an assurance from my pharmacy that at 12:01am today I would be able to pick up my refill with no charge to me. I went to bed, waking a little after 1 to a persistant, urgent throb in my knee. Time to go to the 24 hour pharmacy and get some relief!

Alas, that was not the case. Upon getting there, they had NO RECORD of my prescription. I couldn't believe it. I got mad, and asked again and again for them to check more, dig a little deeper. I explained as best I could the people I spoke with, the urgency of my situation, impatience and pain feeding off one another. A manager was called, no progress. I limped back to my car tears forming and drove home. And promptly broke down. I didn't even bother getting out of my car. I cried and cried, all the stresses of my life collapsing simultaneously upon my head. For a full hour I wept at my helplessness, wept for all that I can't control in my life, and wept some more as my knee sent hot fire up and down my leg.

I called my mom somewhere in between the crying and she got pissed, more pissed than I've ever heard her get. See, earlier, she had also spoken with the pharmacy as well; she knew the situation, she was in the loop about the after midnight pick-up. So, she called to see what was going on.

Miracles happen with that woman. The pharmacist called and -- to her credit -- had looked reeeeeeeeeeally hard and found all my information again. As well as the hard copy of my prescription. Let's just say I picked-up my pills in about 3 minutes after hanging up with her. And promptly took them. Bonus, I got a $50 gift card for the establishment for their super fuck up. Yay!

So don't mess with the momma bear. She means business. I love you Mom, you are the best.



(I guess this wasn't such a short post. Woops.)

I Will -- I HAVE -- Overome You

My lungs are full with each breath again. I am fully myself, every inch expanding, undulating in perfect harmony with the universal flow. The pain has become energy once again, a focal point that can be shifted, monitored, released back and returned as peace. I notice and move forward. I no longer give it power. This is my body and I have moved beyond my limits to find my faith, my hope again.

My mother came over yesterday for a birthday hug for me and gave me possibly the best gift I could receive -- a shift in perspective. As she cleaned my room she told me of a reverend for the church who has injured his knee some time ago. She relayed his story of how, like me, he had allowed the pain to consume his attention in the present. Not a bad thing, until he realized he also had his thigh or his calf, or arm that was not in pain. As he healed, he chose to focus his attention on the surrounding parts of his body that where in perfect working order.

And I choose to do the same.

I choose to look at the blessings in my life. I choose to pray, to think positively, to rest when I need to, to take a deep breath when I may get tired, or frustrated or the feeling that my knee is being jabbed by a hot metal prod. I choose to meditate on the good in my life, to bring my focus to the positive -- most ardently when feeling low.

I have overcome you, pain. You are but another translation of aid in my life and I thank you for your gift.

Happy Birthday to Me

Pain does funny things to one's head.

Today is my birthday. It is the first time in my life where I am not reveling in the love and attention of birthday wishes. I feel as if for the last couple of weeks I am the observer watching my life. I go through minor activities, doing what needs to be done of me, but more and more there is a disconnect. As a way of coping I have noticed that the real me, the vibrant, sane, carefree, joyous me stands just outside of myself, keeping watch over my body as I roll with the waves of discomfort.

Because those waves will always bring you back to shore, you just have to relax and let them.

And in this case, hound your worker's comp and doctor's office.

Letting Go

The pain killers are in full effect, so I have a momentary sense of sanity. There's so much I want to share and very little brain time to express it.

Yesterday's orientation was fantastic and I am now a member of my local BDSM club. Josiah did pick me up and we carpooled. It did bring up a lot of things and in my twisted desire to still have him in my life on the way back to my house I brought up being play partners. I mean, our chemistry has been off the charts. Case in point: yesterday, I was in pain and yet still I was growing wet by his near presence. On my bed, however, I came clean about what I really needed: him, all of him. When he mentioned that he might at some point want reconciliation I ran with it. An hour later, however, I was told he "doesn't want us."

Here's the thing. This whole time since the break-up, since talking to him and whatever it was I/ we were doing... I still had hope that he'd "wake up". That he'd realize the things he mentioned, what he needs to work on in his own life... they can be overcome. And that I'm a really freaking great catch. That having me in his corner, in his life would be freaking fantastic. Cowardice and vulnerability I can work with -- it's all part of being human. What he did and is going through is forgivable, but he has to want it. He has to want the care and responsibility of bettering his life. With me in it, anyway. And clearly, he doesn't want to. Ever.

That kind of sucks. And blows my mind.

I respect his decision, and am thankful that he can be so honest with me. It is that final inch of the open window being closed that I am grieving now. That final realization that the person I want, the good, wonderful man really doesn't want me. At all. So I truly have to wash my hands of him forever.

After all that I've been through, all that I've worked through and have been dealing with, I'm just ready for my prize. I'm the person I want to be in life, and I want everything that I deserve. I really am at the end of my rope, exhausted, and have been pushed to the brink emotionally, psychologically, and physically.

I am willing. I allow good to flow into my life.

I let go.

The Really Really BAD Kind of Pain

Heeeeeeeeeeey there.

There is progress. The paperwork from the ortho doc has been sent to my worker's comp agent to be approved for knee surgery. This needs to be done next week because I am barely able to function in society. The long and the short of it is yes, I am still working. No, I won't be able to do it for much longer because I'm officially in ohmyGodIcan'ttakeitanymore pill popping clockwork pain. Why, you may ask? Oh, because my vicoprofen is no longer working as it once did. Oh, and due to my allergies to most common pain medications, I can't take anything else.

Oh, I love life. I love the wonderful people who are working very hard to bring my healing swiftly to me. I love my mom who is just a phone call away. I love all the practitioners answering the prayer line as I call everyday. I love the customers at work who are so friendly and respectful. I love my coworkers and bosses who are kind and understanding.

I even love that the Josiah and my door is finally closed for good. Because really, if he's going to live his life pretending and hiding I have no interest in trying. Especially when there is absolutely no return -- the self-absorbed weenie.

Man I'm bitchy. Sorry folks, see you on the other side of surgery?

Just One of Those Days

Today... today is seriously just one of those days. I so badly want to share about my first play party I went to on Saturday. About all that I saw, the excitement I felt with so many new sensations, the people I met. I want to share how I was bound and what with, the discussions I had... but I have no energy left. 

I've been living with constant pain on and off for the last week and a half. It is taking its toll. I applaude and am awed by those individuals who live with pain on a daily basis and are still vibrant and productive. Because my body no longer is my own anymore. My mind is still here, still present(ish) but whoooo man between the vicoprofen and the pain I have no control what so ever. 

Not because I'm depressed, or feel sad -- in fact, my appointment with the orthopedist this afternoon gives me great strength and confidence that this whole knee shenanigans will be dealt with once and for all. No, no. I've surrendered to the fact that as a way of coping with everything my body has been going through my nerves are at their last straw and crying like a hormonal pregnant woman is apparently the result (that or laugh-cry because my body doesn't know how the fuck to process it).

Today I have cried from:

• The WORD "cry", "pain", "joy", and "knee"
• Laughing at a joke
• Being told I am beautiful
• Brushing my teeth
• Eating breakfast
• Seeing a bird outside my window
• It being 12:00
• Frustration over stupid DMV stuff
• Writing this post

I'm taking a god damned nap. Because I'm worth it. 

WDIMTBD: A Dom's Most Important Job

This was originally posted from What does it mean to be Dominant? What he describes moved me so greatly that I had to share it.

"There are many aspects of being a Dominant that are important. Leadership skills are good to have, creativity is always nice, solid abilities with a variety of implements not found in daily life or taught in high school gym class are useful, as is a good sense of anatomy and safety. However I believe the most important skill is the ability to guide her to submit.  

Even 24/7 and wearing a collar it is not a given, at least not to me. Every year, every month, every week, every day, every minute, between every stroke, she must choose to submit and I must help her. There in lies the Dominant's power. With out that consent you are just another arrogant and aggressive jerk who thinks he is entitled to everything. With consent though you are a new person, a leader, a rock or more importantly her rock. 

You would think that gaining her consent over an over again would be about her and in part it is. Surprisingly though it is mostly about you and this is the best part, the things you must do for her, the things you must be for her will make you a better you. You will need to say kind words, you will need to be empathetic, you will have to be honest and forthright. It would be a good idea if you developed some self control, perhaps some honour, remember if you cannot contain your emotions with a waiter or a little league coach then how will you with her when the stakes are much higher. You will need to be decisive and to lead, skills that will not only help her but you in the world. 

Every time she says yes though you become a little bit stronger and being the best you becomes a little easier. All the time when out in the world you will be presented with ways to practice those things she loves most about you. Look for them and act upon them, build yourself up and she will follow again and again and again."

The Cleansing

I've been on a colon cleanse for the first time in my life for the past four days. I have to say... I'm kind of in love. Beyond the funny gurgly sounds my intestines make, my insides feel clean, refreshed... ready. Not to mention in proper working order, but I digress.

The result?

I am craving anal like nobody's business.

I wouldn't dare try anal while on the cleanse even if I was dating someone, but that doesn't mean a girl can't dream. You see, anal was a left-over desire from before I discovered my shiny new kinks. I have wanted to be filled in all three holes since right about after high school. As a result, I tried anal with 2-3 boyfriends unsuccessfully -- and promptly swore off of it -- before Josiah went about it the right way. Oh you beautiful, graceful twit I could kiss you just for the build-up and anticipation. There are many things we didn't get to do and a rougher anal session was not in the cards.

I crave to be touched, teased, gagged and turned to all fours. I crave for a man to pull my hair back, growling that I am his. His for the touching, his for the fucking, his for the -- SLAP! 

I want to feel the glorious sting of first strike against my ass, again... again... a rhythm of his own devise. I want to wimper through the gag, saliva slowly dripping from my chin, a string descending to the floor. I want him to tell me what a pretty little slut I am for being so wet, touching me between my legs smearing my juices on my face to further the humiliation. I want to feel his fingers between me again circling, gently rubbing, applying pressure in a most wonderful fashion. Soothed, lulled into a false sense of security I want him to pull away, to hear the click of a bottle, the coolness of lube, the feel of his hard tip just at the opening of my ass. I want to struggle to breath through my nose as my climax builds, the sensation of his hands on my hips, his cock rocking fiercely in my ass. I want him to turn me over so he can see me, see my lust, my shame, my desire. I want to see his face, determined and focused contort right before release. I want to feel his subtle warmth inside me until he grows soft, stroking my face telling me how wonderful I was, how wonderful it felt, how grateful he is to have me in his life -- his little sub.

And as he slides out of me and unclasps my gag, I want to take his hand and join him for a shower.

Sexy or No Sexy

Sometime this week there was a MAJOR jump in view counts. I discovered the lovely Bre over at Owned, Collared, Loved apparently added me to her blog list (thank you, thank you, thank you!) and I'm guessing that's where most of you were referred from. I may or may not have had a minor freak-out of realization that someone -- many someones -- were actually reading this blog. And that I don't have sexy sexy time posts like a lot of the other submissive blogs out there. Or a great "about me". So I hid. 

But the truth is, I can't hide. This is the one place where I feel I can share myself and won't be judged. Because if there's anything I've learned from reading various BDSM blogs for the past few months is ya'll are awesome, kind, supportive people. And I kind of love you. You know, in that awkward Idon'treallyknowyoubuthereIbakedyouapiebecauseyou'reamazing kind of love. 

I promise I'm not creepy.

So, sexy or no sexy, I'll be here in my little corner of the bloggerverse and I thank you for your visit. Stay for tea, if you fancy. 

Original found: here

Just Breathe

I've come to understand that whether is it physical, emotional, or metal pain the best step forward is to just breathe. Focus on the here and now, that I am cleansed with each breath.

I suppose one should adhere to one's advice.

Today, I witnessed a friend in real emotional pain. I listened to his loneliness, his frustration at the loss, the betrayal... now doesn't that sound familiar? Out of respect for him I'm going to fast forward to the aftermath. How I took his emotional pain with me after the conversation ended.

I'm not going to lie, the event jarred me as his pain felt so familiar and brought up many things for me. First off, I've never been in that position to just listen. I kept my cool and support during the chat, but wheeeeew. I could use some aftercare right about now!

So how do I come out of this able to support a friend, and able to let go? Writing about it helps, and I'm thankful that you wonderful, anonymous visitors would remotely want to listen. I am so blessed to have a forum where I can express ALL of myself, even the not-so-sexy bits.

Trusting Again

The subject of trust has been bouncing around in my brain for a while, and when it comes to D/s the application, foundation, and building of trust between two people gives me a supreme thrill. I've come to love opening myself up to compromise, to forgiveness, to the opportunity to disregard fear at first sight and really seeing the people in front of me. Seeing their good, their true nature.

Coming from a broken home and witnessing disrespect, disfunction, and plain bat-shit cray-cray I am fascinated to see, hear, or read a breach of trust in other couples -- only to see them mend that crack. To see them repair that cataclysm that could have broken them down, and to see them experience triumph and joy for years to come.

I want to know what that is like.

What it is like to put aside your own pride, your own pain, and to have faith in the good of another -- and for them to do the same for you. To me, that is the ultimate expression of respect. And, frankly, the challenge gives me a thrill too. So when it comes to Josiah and I -- our pleasant conversations, our common yet opposing viewpoints on life, our sexual chemistry -- the urge to push my mental boundaries and see what can be done about our situation excites me. I would love to see how I would react should he seek reconciliation, how it would play out, and what steps would be taken to ensure that trust be built at another level better than before.

I'm not holding my breath that he'll find himself really wanting a reconciliation anytime soon, if ever.

But it's a nice thought.

Blessings

Woah Nelly. It is about 4:30 in the morning and all I've been doing since I woke up is thanking God over and over and over again for all the various blessings in my life. The fact that I can do that from an overflowing heart after all the pain I've been in shocks me to no end. I'm quickly discovering that when you have to "live with pain" (even temporarily, while it's healing) and still perform most of your normal duties in life is mother fracking hard. Not to mention the anger and anxiety and impatience it brings up for me exacerbates my reaction to bumps in the road. I don't feel the need to go into what the incidences were, but they were a domino effect culminating in severe emotional confusion and pain.

But I know, despite it all I am blessed with a healing knee.

I know I am blessed with a positive attitude, however short a time it took a vacation.

I know I am blessed with an overflowing, generous support network. I am so blessed to have people in my life with my highest interest in mind.

I know I am so blessed with a kind ex who has launched me on this break-neck journey of self-healing and discovery.

I know I am so blessed for all the good in my life that I can feel.

I am blessed to know what good is coming to me and to have the patience to let it arrive divinely into my life.

I am blessed to be myself again.

Saturday Prayer Part Deux

Lord, I want to thank you for the wisdom you have given me as a result of my healing knee. I am so grateful for the love and support you have surrounded me with, the peace that you have brought, the strength and the patience that you have instilled in me. I know that because you are perfect, I am perfect. My knee is perfect and healed right now. Lord, you are the good which has no opposite and as such I cast aside any doubts, worries, or fears surrounding my knee. I willingly embrace and accept the divinity that dwells within me, knowing right here in this moment my life is good. As I claim this for my life I release this to you, God, blessed in the fact that you have my highest good in store. 

Amen.

My Dark Place

I went to my dark place last night. That secret part of myself that I stumble upon when I discover a new aspect of this lifestyle that stirs inside me a new desire. A new desire so terrifying because it pushes a boundary I never knew existed. It crosses it and turns me on.

When I was first with Josiah I visited my dark place a lot. He coaxed me, told me it was OK to want the things I desired, gave me the confidence to love what I wanted and expand on it. Soon, I wasn't visiting my dark place anymore and I was happy.

My knee was aggressively bothering me again yesterday and to distract myself I started reading No Ordinary Love Story: Sequel to Diary of a Submissive by Sophie Morgan. In it she described her partner flogging, whipping, cropping (can that be used as a verb?) and stopping right before she cried. Instead she begged him to make her cry.

And that's when I discovered I want that too.

I want to have a partner that I trust so greatly to push me off the edge and also be my safety net. I want him to make me cry and stare me in the eyes and slap my face, focusing me on only him. I want to feel him hard against me as I weep against his chest, cradled in his arms. I want him to enter me, tears drying on my cheeks and tell me I am beautiful, that I am wonderful, that I am for him. I want him to press his thumb against my throat telling me what a good little whore I am, that I would let him fuck me after he made me cry. To feel him slide smoothly in and out of my body. Teasing my air supply as my orgasm builds. I want to see him smile down at me, feeling how wet I am because of it. I want to grab at his torso as the tempo builds, as the sorrow and shock weens to be replaced by pleasure, all pleasure, all him. I want to scream as I feel him pulse inside of me, his own triumphant groan muted by the blood rushing in my ears. I want to feel his weight upon my body, curled and safe within his heat, shifting as he grows soft and licking both our juices clean from his most glorious cock.

It's an extreme that would take years to build, but I still want it. I want a type of man who would desire to give that to me, to be comfortable and confident with himself to do that, and to share in the mutual pleasure.

Even though I've mostly reconciled it in my mind, I still need someone to hold my hand and tell me I'm OK to want what I want.

To remind me that I am not alone.

What, Me Worry?

Oh to be someone's pet!

Boy is life so much better when you are fully in your body and mind! I am feeling so much more blessed and alive and I am so grateful. With gratitude and fullness of mind comes clarity, and reading back my post from yesterday concerning Josiah and the BDSM club I have become aware that I have nothing to fear.

All those thoughts of "I am still attracted to his dick and hands... what if the rest of him becomes appealing, what if I start to like him again?" have been tossed out of the window.

The truth is I am not attracted to him in that way.

The truth is we still work together.

The truth is we haven't been broken up that long.

The truth is he is the only man (as of today) to really help me explore my sexuality. To help me achieve mind-blowing orgasms.

The truth is that means a lot, and takes time to heal.

The truth is I still consider him a good man. I still believe that he is strong and kind, and will flourish in the world. I believe he can grow and learn and change.

Yes, the trust is gone in the intimate aspect, but I don't know exactly what God has in store for me. I don't know exactly play-by-play what steps I have to take to achieve the good that is coming to me. For the time being Josiah and I are open to friendly communication and when that changes, I know it will shift smoothly.

So I say fooey on you fear! As long as I keep genuine and kind, I've got nothing to worry about.

Yesterday

Yesterday is technically today but frankly I'm already ready for today to be over. It's been exhausting, traumatic, and frankly painful. All the points bleed together so I've had to just do a little ditty on each today. Enjoy.

My Knee: Oh knee, I love you, I really do. Today I know I pushed too hard and you pushed back. I just hate the cane, but I promise to use it from now on. Not to mention ice and do my exercises to make you stronger. At work my knee was hurting. I haven't been eating as much since I haven't been burning as many calories (since I can't move around as much as I did) so when I popped a pain pill on an almost empty stomach by accident and didn't remember until an hour later when the pills were in affect... it was scary.

My Not So Happy Experience: Cut to an hour later and (thank God) I ran to my purse and ate a granola bar to help me for the last hour of work. Fun fact: I work in retail. Let's just say that before I took the pill I was a bit short tempered. After? I couldn't think straight. I summoned all my strength to drive the 10 minutes home safely. Minus the break-down of tears. My stomach hurt, my body didn't feel like it was its own, it hurt so bad to cry that I stopped after 10 seconds. My hands were shaking when I got home. It was one of those "I want my mommy" moments. Finally I reached a friend of mine and he talked me down. Thank God.

Josiah: Oh look! I've fake named him! I've been talking about him so bloody much I figured he'd best get a name to avoid confusion, because this post has multiple exes. Hooray. Oh yes. He was on my list of calls. I was desperate. Even in my desperation I knew I shouldn't have called... but I did anyway. I can't even wrap my head around what I'm doing with him anymore. Oh yeah, and I offered to carpool to the local BDSM club later this month. And he accepted. WTF.

The BDSM Club: I recently found a local BDSM club because as much as I love the online community, the bloggers... I need people I can shake hands with, relate to in person, etc. Other than Josiah. So what did I do when I was in the area on Tuesday? I went there. To make sure it was real. And what did I find? The front entrance is for a completely different company, so let's just say if I were a younger me, I would have been really, really, really embarrassed. But I'm not and I wasn't, so instead the entire trip was exciting, fun, and educational. I can't wait for orientation... I'm an idiot and invited my ex. Curse you being nice and wanting to share my excitement with the only person I know who is kinky like me!

Julius: So, meanwhile, I was in pain and the effects of the pain meds/ panic attack were wearing down, but I still was not of sound mind my ex from 3 years ago decides to call me. Again. For the second time in a week. After some investigative work, I very politely told him off stating, "you are not bad or wrong for feeling the way you are feeling. At some point you are going to have to learn to be happy with your choices in the present, the gift that is you, right now. I don't think it's fair to you or your fiance to be striving for an idea of someone because I am not the same person." I hope the poor kid is alright.

So! That was my day. That was a hazy brain dump, and I'm sorry if it didn't seem well drafted because I sure as heck don't think it was. And I don't care. It's out of my brain.

To better times ahead.

Fin.

Wednesday Night Service

Original found here

I'll fully admit it, I needed a little more God in my life. I needed my cup to be filled while communing with others. So I went to Wednesday night service for the first time last night.

The sermon wasn't amazing and I didn't have a choir of angels singing to me while listening, but it was just what I needed. A reminder of what is real, of the peace that is omnipresent in my life, that when I listen to that still small voice (or let's face it, bull horn lately!) inside miracles happen. The song that the congregation sang last night has really stuck with me and has been singing in my heart ever since.

"I Release and I Let Go"
by Rickie Byars-Beckwith

-chorus-
I release and I let go
I let the Spirit run my life
And my heart is open wide
Yes I'm only here for God

No more struggle, no more strife
With my faith I see the light
I am free in the Spirit
Yes I'm only here for God

Trust

I've come a long way from being that wary gal who never believed those closest to me really meant what they said, felt the way they felt, and in the end the result would be that they would stab you in the back by lying to your face. And so I didn't let anyone see all of me.

I was working hard (and I do mean really really hard) to overcome all my insecurities, to trust, to be a better woman for myself. Once discovering BDSM, it just clicked. I might have been scared to open all of myself, but I did it anyway and you know what? I haven't regretted it.

The hardest thing to reconcile from the breakup has been the trust aspect. To go from complete trust, murmurs of stability, goals, events to be achieved together to "kthanksbai!"* after the first real moment to find compromise with each other... Coming back has been a little hard.

I know I will trust again, I will forgive the past and love and attract that man to be so many things in my life that I am grateful for already. I guess it's time to focus on the future, and not the past, so I can be open to it all.


*NOT what was actually said

It's Mental

As I am growing, healing, moving into my own and discovering what I like and do not like. Beyond the big two: casual play/ sex and polyamorous relationship, I do not believe myself to have boundaries. As long as I am groomed, coaxed, have established a solid basis of trust with my partner, I'm down. Because, I am trusting the man I am with (or will be) to encourage me and know when I can be pushed to new experiences, has taken the dedication to learn me well enough and help me discover new things I previously thought maybe not the best. 

I will willingly smile gleefully as a certain toy or binding is pulled out and joyfully get into place. Those moments when I am grumpy or willful (let's face it, I've got opinions) that I am made to please my Dom, forceful, no emotion until after my face has been fucked, or after I have been shoved to the bed, choked, slapped and cum is dripping down my body...

Well, that's when I'm truly happy. It's the metal balance that a man I am in a relationship with who is kind, caring, considerate, won't put up with my bullshit. It's a mental turn-on that he can treat me like a lady... and then just as directly a toy he may play with. I know it sounds weird, but as long as I am respected... anything goes*.

*except the aforementioned poly / play.

Update: Due to the fact that I am rapidly discovering things that I hadn't thought of, you can find a list of my limits/ boundaries here.

Lingering Pain

Lingering pain, in my opinion, is just one of the silver linings of BDSM.

Days later when you can still feel the soreness of a good session, that small wince that is silent and a private connection between you and your partner. A recollection of a job well done, a physical reminder that you can take wherever you go...

I got that back recently and I've been on cloud nine ever since.

Running used to be my main source where I could push the boundaries of my mind and body but since my knee injury I've had to find new and inventive ways to nourish myself, if you will. This time it came through a lively use of my vibrator.

Puffy and sore, as blood rushes to between my legs, I can close my eyes and smile. In less than a second I am aware of what I've done, what I fantasized about, and what I know will come in the future. It solidifies that this is real. That my path is true, this state of submissiveness is not temporary.

And as I enter daily life the pleasant whispers of my sexuality shines secretly through my everyday interactions.

A private reviere to be molded for next time.