I was never one to openly talk about myself, it made me feel safer to keep things to myself. I bottled up things that happened to me (good and bad), held them tight and close, and it left some serious scars. When I created my first blog, all that changed. It started small but still a notable extent that stretched further as time passed.
Blogging gave me a healthy amount of anonymity and it felt okay-ish to share certain parts of my soul, heart, and life. It gave sound to a voice I didn’t know was there. It was therapeutic.
I lost that.
It doesn’t feel safe anymore. Nor does it feel therapeutic. It started when I decided to divorce my ex and has continued to get worse. I thought it would change, it hasn’t. I’m caught in this mix of what I should and shouldn’t say, and I hate that. It sucks because I feel like I know things that are worth sharing and there are things that would be good for me to purge.
I know I could write about less personal things. I don’t have to share what my heart is screaming to get out. I don’t have to write the truth of my struggles. I don’t have to write about circumstances and events that make up my life – past and present, good and bad. Yes, I could refrain from writing about all those things and still connect with all of you that come here to read my words.
I just have no desire to write that way. It’s not who I am and I refuse to be anyone else, especially in this space. I’ve even said more than feels comfortable in this post.
I wish all of you the best and I’ll come back when life is different.
Guys, for the most part I am doing pretty great. Life is moving along, I’m figuring out who I am vs. who I was, my relationship with sub girl continues to flow and feel natural, I’m feeling strong in my independence, and all that is great. Really great. But, somedays, I lose strength.
And things start to hurt.
I want to scream and cry. I want to voice how I feel, but nothing comes out because… well… there’s a lot of reasons for that.
I don’t fight the feelings anymore. I accept that I feel the way I feel and wait for it to pass. Because I can’t fucking change what hurts.
I didn’t have a good start. People have lived through worse, some have not. I was broken by the time I was nine years old and lived a full life by the time I was sixteen.
There are days when I feel so tired that dying sounds peaceful — I welcome it. Or I think about turning back to drugs. Or doing something, anything, self-destructive.
I fight to get out of bed. I fight to be present for my kids. I fight demons. I fight for those I love. I fight to break the cycle of my mother and father. I fight all – the – time. But, that is my life. I think I handle it quite well, all things considered.
I have made many bad decisions. I have hurt people. I know right from wrong because I have learned on my own, not because someone told me it was right or wrong. I own that shit and I learn(ed) from it, most of the time.
I have come to realize that I don’t see myself clearly — it has been, and will be, destructive on occasion. In other words, I’m prone to seeing my faults.
I have a hard time voicing when I’m in pain, it is far easier to mask it.
I don’t need a big house, a shiny new car, deep wallet, or expensive clothes to get attention or feel successful. I don’t have a need to prove I am the meanest Domme on the block, nicest, sexiest, or smartest. I am not any “est,” I am me. I don’t need a long resume of subs I’ve beaten to feel special, nor do I need to grab the best most prettiest sub and put them at my feet to feel important. (Note: I rarely falter in this area, but I do catch myself falling into the trap.)
Instead of festering jealously between women, I want to empower them to step into their own. Don’t be jealous of me or think I should be jealous of you… we are all beautiful and special, capable of doing amazing things, let’s help each other on our journeys. (I’m working on bettering myself in this area… quite a bit of room for improvement.)
I love wearing fur (huge, fluffy collars!), boots, heels, low cut shirts — I like wearing things that make me feel sexy and powerful. I’m fairly picky about style. My soul lives in the shadows and I like my attire to reflect that to some extent.
I draw, paint, and knit — not often enough.
I am spiritual. I am a witch. I practice my truth while listening and learning from other ideas.
I am sexually sadistic. It makes me wet when they cry. And scream. And tell me to stop. And hide their face in embarrassment.
I don’t do vanilla sex. It makes me cringe… like to the point that I want to bleach my brain.
I am bisexual and demisexual.
I have a hard time with positive reinforcement. I see how it works, but when it comes to D/s… I think it is boring.
There is a part of me that is incredibly selfish and controlling. It is a darkness that could manifest quite quickly, given the right circumstances. I actively keep her at bay for very good reason.
I want you to see how you are notlike me, and love that you are not like me. Or, if you are like me in any way, be thankful to have someone to relate to. I want all of you to be proud of your differences and respect that this is who I am (in part), even if you don’t want to be anything like me.
If you don’t know what it is like to live a crappy childhood, be proud of that. If you like having ten submissives at your feet, be proud of that. If you find power and peace in kneeling at someone’s feet, be proud of that.
Be happy and respectful that others are on a journey that isn’t anything like yours. We are all on different walks. Yours is not better than mine and mine is not better than yours, they are merely different. Own you. Be you. Enjoy seeing others be successful in their lives, truly enjoy it without being jealous, because you know you can make great things happen on your path, just as they are doing. You have that power, use it.
I don’t give a shit what others have told you or what the voice inside your head tells you, you are beautiful and deserve love and good in your life.
Sub girl and I had a conversation some time ago about love languages, more specifically, The 5 Love Languages written by Gary Chapman. I speculated what mine would be but never got to the point of researching it, however, a week ago I took the online quiz (found here) and wasn’t all that surprised to read my results.
First being my strongest language…
Acts of Service
Words of Affirmation
Seeing these laid out in order, might prompt you to ask me, “But, Miss, why do you write post like this one, when all you have to do is call upon the number of boys practically (and sometimes literally) begging to do things for you and spend time with you?”
You wouldn’t be the first to ask that same question. In fact, I have had many people question why I don’t use these boys to my benefit. I could have a couple of fur coats, my yard mowed/driveway shoveled, feet massaged, sadistic urges met… you name it, it is only a text away – without a doubt. Aside from not feeling comfortable giving my address to just anyone (a very good reason), I can simply sum it up with, “That’s not what I want.”
But, the thing is, it is what I want. I have a deep desire to have a boy desperate to please me through various acts of service — be it pampering me, doing chores (because I shouldn’t have to), or serving as a toy to please my sadistic side. A boy that will strive to endure every single devious desire I have and want nothing more than to keep pleasing me.
Oh, yes, that is what I want for my girl and I.
Where I get hung up is… I don’t want that from just anyone. I want it to come from someone I love and trust. I want it to come from someone I connect with. I want it to come from someone who truly sees me. Because that is when my brain boners happen and magic happens in my panties.
So, yeah, I fall under the demisexual umbrella.
There are a couple local guys that are fun to be around, but, of course, I have my excuses. They travel too often, they don’t communicate, they don’t this, they don’t that. Truth is, I just don’t want them. I shouldn’t need to make excuses to myself or anyone else.
Digging a little deeper, it scares the shit out of me to open up to someone on that level. Maybe I’m just not ready to try… maybe I’m just waiting for something else…
I’m not saying it’s a bad thing… It does make life more challenging, though.
When I divorced my husband in 2018, I had expectations and ideas for my future. Leaving him was a major step toward making my desires and ideas a reality. Here we are, at the end of 2019 and it feels like I am further away from that reality than I was in 2018.
Maybe I’m closer than I realize.
Maybe I’m blinding myself and that reality is no longer a possibility.
There are still unknowns and, no matter how much I wish that weren’t so, it is there. I can either live with it or not. I’m choosing to live with it. That is a choice I make and I will live with the results of it.
Unknowns aside, if things had played out in the direction I had wanted them to, I wouldn’t be who I am today.
I needed this time. I needed to be pushed off the edge and my slate cleared so I could find out who I am and what I’m capable of. This had to happen, for me.
As 2019 started, a piece of my power that laid dormant, came alive. And then another piece came alive. And another. And another. On top of that, I have worked though some really dark, foul shit. All while managing to not lose my house, job, or completely fail at being a mom. I mean, I didn’t get through 2019 gracefully, but I have come out of it feeling pretty bad ass.
I have my sub girl. I am part of a community. I honestly can’t remember a time in my life that I have felt so comfortable with who I am, on the inside. I know what I want. I know who I want. I know why I want what I want. In turn, I know what I don’t want and, therefore, I won’t waste my time on those things.
What are my plans for 2020?
To work on the things I can control and let go of what I cannot control. Fine tune myself and my life. Continue to add to the relationships I want to keep. Prepare for my future in all the ways I can, while I wait for the foggy unknown to turn into a path that I can clearly see.
This feels like a good thing. Not easy or simple, but good.
Dominant and submissive are not opposing forces. One cannot actively exist without the other, therefore they are two pieces of a whole.
This is who I am.
When it is absent, I feel incomplete. The pressure builds in my chest and it hurts to breathe… no, it hurts to exist. The pressure was a lot harder to live with when I was a sub — I still feel it, though, as a Domme. Every morning that I have to wake up and make my own coffee, I feel it. It isn’t that I mind making my own coffee, I’m very capable and it is not time consuming. When I scoop the coffee grinds into the filter and pour water into the coffeemaker, I know it means I’m missing an important part of myself and my life.
Sure, I’d label myself as a Domme even if I didn’t have a sub, but that’s all it would be — a label. And that is not enough for me.
The deeper I go, the more contrast there is between Domme and sub, the more balanced I feel, the more complete I am.
I admire those that can engage in a dynamic without emotional involvement, those that find fulfillment in casual play, and those that can be fed from either side of the slash. I, unfortunately, am not one of those people. Entering a fantasy or an illusion of the real thing, when I don’t have it truly active in my life, is (somewhat) like giving a crumb to a starving person, it doesn’t nourish them, it just intensifies the ache. It is salt on an open wound.
I need passionate commitment. I need depth. I need the other half.