Friday, October 14, 2016

Since that night at the ballpark, I haven't wanted anyone else. Even now, when my heart is all battered and bruised, I just want him. I want his arms around me and the world to be just us...

He was right, I did want him to change. I thought we could change together and grow together--make a new and improved us.

I have grown these last few years. I have a better understanding of who I am and why I am, with that has come acceptance. I needed it, ya' know?

I think it might be better to accept that this can't be right now. We are still (kinda) young, hopefully we have a lot of time left...I know how time can evolve perspective...maybe this can happen in the future...

I'm not saying good-bye to the blog, in case you were wondering. I don't know how often I will use it, but it will be here, when I want it. Maybe I can figure out how to get my brain to do the fiction thing...

I can't read other blogs right now. I can't handle the good because they point out what I don't have--salt on a open wound kind of thing. I can't handle the bad because I absorb that shit and I have enough weight at the moment. I feel pretty horrible about this.

Sunday, October 9, 2016

A Mistaken Old Rock

I don't want to be the gem that sits on top a pedestal for admiration, roped off, lights illuminating facets, only touched by those the gem called upon. As beautiful as they are, as lucky as they are, full of worth and glory, that is not where I belong.

I am a precious stone mistaken for an old rock, not worth the dirt it sits on, passed over, stepped on and kicked around. A stone built sturdy and true by time and fire.

Oh, to be seen! I want to be seen!

A glimmer through the dirt, the right moment in time in which someone sees what could be...

No, they see what is.

A jewel that silently calls to be picked up, cleaned up, and thought upon.
A jewel that is to be softened with love, shaped by vision, and polished with want.
A jewel that wants to be what the finder needs, because they were the one that saw more than an old useless rock.

A diamond in the rough.

I want to be held in a pocket, kept safe and warm, close to my finder. Touched throughout the day, to be there when needed, always.

I want to be kicked around and stepped on, treated like I was made to be treated. Then, polished and set upon a shelf until called again.




Wednesday, October 5, 2016

A Step

I'm readjusting and taking on a new focus.

I still feel stranded, I can work through it though. I can. I am. I am trying.

I need to do things that make me feel...something other than what I feel.

I'm knitting. There's ideas and creative wheels turning. It's a good zone for me to be in.

I'm running, again. I stopped because it didn't seem important anymore. I was wrong, it is important. The burn in my legs, the air in my lungs, the sweat on my brow, and the satisfaction of finishing, it reminds me that I'm alive and capable. And I'm (kinda) strong.

Most important (and because I don't have time for more), I'm working on being pleasing and pleasuring him. It's not easy with this clawing in my chest, but I'm going to fucking do this, I'm going to be that, come hell or high water.

I can succeed here. I need to succeed.

Wednesday, September 28, 2016

I think when someone is interested in something, they want to learn more about it and they actually make an effort to learn about said interest...because they are interested in it.

He has not made moves to learn what goes on past the surface of D/s.
He says he wants to learn, but he's too busy. There's more important stuff to do, like watching sports and playing a game (Yes, I'm hurting). I know there's the business and loads of work that comes with having a house and kids, but I have that shit too, and I've managed to make time.

I've told him countless times what I think would help and why. I've told him my view...this is not fucking babysitting (FYI, I am an adult). He listens to me, but nothing comes of it.

The fact that I feel this way - that I'm hurt and angry, and I just want to be worth the fucking effort - makes me feel even worse. Like I'm the worst (imaginary) slave, ever.

He can watch his sports and play his game, and do whatever the fuck he wants to do, I want him to have that.

I can't help but feel neglected though.
I can't stop how I feel.
I can't stop wanting what I want.

The rule, that I'm not allowed to tell him no, was total bullshit. Like I knew it would be and hoped it wouldn't be.

I'm pretty sure he's given up on me.

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

To Protect Thyself, Or To Not Protect Thyself?

I'm protective of myself. I think we all are, to a point. At one time I wasn't, then life happened, and at some point habit turned into instinct.

The worst part of it, the need to protect myself is stronger with people I care about and love. People that know my past. People that I should feel comfortable with. But, you see, those are the people that can hurt me the most...

It's not his fault. He is paying for it though.

I get incredibly insecure at times. It's like an unexpected hurricane that I don't know what to do with.

Little things turn into big things. As in, my world is crumbling, big things. But it's not really, it's the damn hurricane spinning my thoughts into something else.

Like when I find out he hasn't read my blog in a month, I want to go private so he can't read here, ever. Another way of saying, "fuck you, too." I know that is my protective instinct and insecurity lashing out. Obviously, I would only be hurting myself if I went private (especially if he isn't reading here anyway), but in the moment...hurricane.

I'm working on it. I'm working on recognizing it and inching my way through.

He let me sit as his feet a couple nights ago while we were watching a show, Hell on Wheels, on Netflix. I say he "let me" because it feels like a treat to be there when he tells me to, but I can sit on the floor anytime I'd like. He put the leash on me as well. Later that night, the clamps went on--they hurt so fucking bad and he wouldn't let me take them off. He pulled my hair so that my head was tilted back, which ends up pulling the clamps that are attached to my collar. I was sure I'd be half bald and short two nipples by the time we were done (I'm not, btw). And, he was slapping my pussy. All of this was going on at once and I could only feel him and pain, and life was good.

The next day, I was sitting there thinking of how great it felt to have those moments of...being me. And I knew he needed to know how I felt (because you've all told me this). So I had a choice, protect myself, or not.

I humbled myself and sent him a text (I am no where near saying that out loud!).

"Thank you for last night. I needed it."

His reply?


*grin and blush*

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Looking Through Mud

It's confusing, you know?!

One second, it's this problem, and the next it's another problem. Then I end up wondering if those problems are really problems or if they are a result of a bigger problem. Maybe it's not even a big problem. Maybe it's little problems that manifest with the other little problems.

I don't fucking know.

Communication is clearly a big problem. 
My guilt is a big problem.
I feel like he's not into this, and that's a big problem. 

I used to be easy going. It's unfair that I lost that, don't you think? It would be super useful now. 

It's hard talking about what I want and what I think I need because I don't want that to get in the way of what he wants...but he wants me to be happy...and what would make me happy is to do what he wants to do. 

I have a new rule, I'm not allowed to say no. 

And my plug schedule has changed.

And I get to wear my collar while the kids are at school. 

Yes, I have almost three hours a day without kids. I forgot what it was like. 

Saturday, September 10, 2016


I haven't taken away anything that was there before. What I have taken away is the, "maybe this time it will be different."

There is no "this time" now.

I still want it. That will not change. Not ever.

Part of the problem is that I put pressure on myself to get everything right, all the time. Anything less than, makes me feel pretty bad, and I have no where to put that guilt. It just piles up until I can't see past it.

I screwed up so much when I was a kid, and people made me feel bad for it, like it was all my fault. You know, because a thirteen year old should know better...
I couldn't focus on school or doing the right thing because I was too busy trying to survive. I survived by numbing myself with drugs. All of those times weigh on me.

Presently, I put a lot into being honest, doing the right thing, getting it right, and giving my all.
It's still not enough.

I know where I go wrong. I know when I screw up. I'm not a fucking idiot.

I have no where to put my guilt and I have no solution to...get better. It's a perfect recipe for disaster.

I do the best I can on my own, just like I always have. Yes, that best sucks, but I know I can be more, I just need something or someone to be more for. I just fucking do.

As far as I'm concerned, if rules are not going to be enforced, than they shouldn't be there.

Rules and requests are two different things, by the way.

If he requests I shave at least every other day, that's awesome, I can do that, just trust that I will do my best and let it go when I don't.

If it is a rule, that I need shave every other day, than I need it to be enforce. If I don't get it done, I need a way to pay for my mistake. And it doesn't work if it's just a threat...threatening without following through will always send me to a really bad place. 

I already want to be perfect for him, I want him to be pleased with me all the time. I don't need the fear of punishment to do what he asks or to do it well. 

It's hard to do much of anything when you use most of your strength carrying guilt. I need consequences in place so I can let mistakes go.

I'm not proud of this.