Thursday, October 30, 2014

Air Travel

It had been awhile since flew without kids, and, let me tell you, it was freakin' awesome!

No scurrying to get your stuff into those buckets, shoes off of everyone, and the stroller folded, all while making sure the kids don't run off. No extra bags of toys to keep the kids busy on the plane. No trying to fit into those tiny bathrooms on the plane with two kids--no trying to fit a stroller and two kids into a bathroom stall at the airport. No running to the next gate--I walked some 80 gates, stopped to buy some chocolate and water, and still made it to my connecting flight before they started boarding, which is truly amazing.

I also had the opportunity to people watch (rather than doing the don't-take-your-eyes-off-your-kids-for-one-second-because-who-knows-what-might-happen-if-you-do thing), which made me feel kinda uncool. I do believe that this is one place people feel like they can show off all their electronics, and pillows. Did you know they have luggage with four-wheels now? Well, they do. You can roll it along side of you, rather than behind you...not sure if that's easier or just makes you look cool...

What is it about Ginger Ale? Do that many people drink it at home, or is it just an airplane thing?

And why is it so important for people to board the plane first? It's not like you're going to get a better seat, or take off any earlier...maybe they want a chance to get out their computers and pillows for everyone to see?

Then, of course you have the first-classers with their large seats, extra leg room, and a curtain that separates them from us economy folk. Yes, they pay extra, I know! But...okay, I'm just jealous. But, why do they have to be all smug about it, with their blankets and pillows, and drinks already in hand when I walk by? Alright, I might be smug to. Might even say, a bit too loud, "Mmmm, what a refreshing first-class Ginger Ale this is," as people pass by. Because, you know, everything must be better in first-class!

In conclusion, if you want to be one of the cool people when traveling by air, don't fly with kids (young ones, at least), bring all your electronics (don't forget Bose headphones) and a special neck pillow, take extra money for Starbucks (what?!, didn't you know you look cool with a Starbucks in hand?), pay extra for first class, and drink Ginger Ale. And, for the love of god, if you have to bring small kids, do not let them run around the airport in nothing but a diaper!

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Part of Death

I don't care much for the way death has made me feel and think.

Some moments I feel as if everything is bullshit. We all end up the same way. 

At other moments I feel as if everything is fragile and underappreciated. We only have so much time, and it goes so fast.

I'm sure there is a line between the two that I should be walking, but I can't see it at the moment.

Some hold onto religion in times like these, my grandma would have (I have family that is), but me? I don't know...I don't feel like praising the lord that she's gone to a better place.

But, I'm not here to have a discussion about religion.

I guess the point I'm trying to make is that, we all deal with it differently, and we all do things that make us feel better about it as a whole...

Because it's not just about one death, is it? It's about all the deaths, including our own, that we will endure over the course of our lives--and wondering when they will all happen and how bad it will be.

I'm trying to end this post with something more positive, something lighthearted, however with every positive there is a negative, and my heart isn't very light....

Maybe I will write something a little less morbid tomorrow, after I've slept in my husbands arms.

Monday, October 20, 2014

Part of Living

I've been sitting here wondering how to start, what to say, and if I should say anything at all. I don't want to face it. I just don't want to. But it's happened, there is no pushing it off to the side for another day.

My grandma passed away.

I feel like I've given the impression that my childhood was full of misery, but it wasn't. I had many, many good times. I had a lot of good ones with her.

The memories keep flying at me--the things she used to do, the things we used to do, the person she used to be.

She had Alzheimer's -the woman from my childhood has been gone for sometime now- so I'm glad it's over for her, that she's gone home but, for my own selfish reasons, I want her back.

I am flying home by myself. I'm going to be without my kids and my husband for four days. There hasn't been one day that has gone by that I haven't seen my girl's faces since they were born, and I'm about to go four entire days without them... I'm not sure it would be such a big deal if it were under different circumstances but, seeing as how death and life are staring directly at me, going just one day without seeing their faces or having their arms around me...

I know this is just part of living and it will all be okay but...

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

It isn't Easy

I started blogging because of an urge to write, which is weird because I used to avoid writing--writing meant I had to look within myself, and it was that I avoided at all costs.

Blogging has turned out to be more than sharing my journey, it has turned into a self-revelation, and it hasn't been easy.

As a child I learned that I shouldn't share what my life entailed, and as I grew I learned that I shouldn't share my thoughts either. I became good at being someone that I thought I should be, someone like everyone else. I did what I could to push the real me to the smallest corner of my mind.

Writing has brought the real me to these pages, and it hasn't been easy.

I'm still not sure of who I am. Somehow the real me and the me that I created, have gotten mixed up. I'm closer to untangling the two, but I panic sometimes. Blogging has made me panic, at times, because I'm not used to sharing myself. Now, I realize that I don't have to blog -I could write in a journal-, but there's something I get from being here that I don't get from writing in a journal, so I continue on.

I have worried about what people think of me here, but recently I've begun to think it's more about me worrying that I'm not okay in the head. Does that make sense? This isn't easy to explain.

I worry that I'm too different, that I'm beyond...help.

When I was eleven, my mom took me to a psychologist (or someone of the like, I can't remember her title). It was a non-profit business. She asked me a lot of questions, and I mostly lied about them--I'm sure she knew that. Then my dad was mentioned, I broke down and started crying. I don't remember what she asked or what was said about him, I just remember crying and trying my hardest to keep it in. Not many people talked to me about my dad. Later, I asked my mom if I had to go back, she told me that they wouldn't see me again, that they couldn't help me. I remember those exact words, "They can't help you." Maybe it was because it was a non-profit and they didn't have the space for someone that wasn't going to be honest, maybe it was because they knew I didn't want to be helped (you can't help someone that doesn't want it), it could have been a lot of things, but hearing my mom say that, confirmed what I already thought--I couldn't be helped, I was beyond it.

Anyway, it's times like that, that taught me to hide who I am. So it's not so much that I care about what you think, but what I think about myself. And seeing myself on these pages...I don't know...some of it I like, and some of it I don't.

It's good for me to be here, but it isn't easy.

Friday, October 10, 2014

Change Within

Thank you, Roz, for asking, "What is the biggest change you have noticed in yourself and in your husband since incorporating ttwd into your relationship?" It really was a thinker so...

I asked Daddy what he thought, his response was, "I haven't changed. Well, I'm happier." 

A lot has changed in the past year with the way we do things (and those things are easy to see), but it's hard to see change in ourselves, for whatever reason, so I started to wonder if we have changed. 

Then it dawned on me, the biggest change is that we are more of ourselves. D/s has given us the freedom to be who we are. 



I feel like I should have more to say about this, but I got nothin' else. Lol. 

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Baseball

I still have some questions to answer, from lil and Roz, and I will get to them, eventually, but for now... 

The other night, he took me down stairs, in cuffs, for the first time.

He turned the couch around so the back was facing the tv and figured out a way to tie my wrists up so my arms were hanging over the back of the couch (and my knees on the cushions).

It was pretty awesome.

Turns out he wanted to keep an eye on the baseball game while having his way with my butt...yeah, sports are that important over here.

And I love that he did that! Not sure why, but I do.

I can't help but laugh knowing he missed a home run (that ended up being the run that won the game) while I was sucking him.

I'm thinking, if we do more of that I might start to like watching baseball on tv...at the very least I won't fall asleep anymore :)

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

My Inspiration

lil was kind enough to offer some ideas for me to write about, here is one...

What do you feel most inspires your submission?

For the sake of my over-thinking mind, I need to clarify that I write of my submission within D/s.

My first thought was that it had to be my husband. The man put up with me for twelve years without D/s (not that D/s has made me "better" but, at least I can see my mistakes now). I strongly want to be someone better than I was, someone that he could be proud to have on his arm, because he deserves that.

And that is highly inspiring but, then I got to thinking, like I tend to do...

When I "do" for him, no matter if I'm making his lunch or falling to my knees, I'm filled with purpose and I feel alive. And it is that...

It is what runs through my veins and ignites when I'm doing something for him or because of him. 
It is what makes my head swim. 
It is having someone to fall back on when the world sucks. 
It is when my mind clears and I'm able to focus because it is filled with him. 
It is enjoying who is within my skin. 
It is living, really living.

It's that feeling...it's The Feeling.

Sure, a good slap to the face or his paddle can give some good inspiration, and there is much inspiration because he deserves more from me, however, it's The Feeling that inspires my submission the most. I crave it. I want more of it. I want to be consumed with it. 

When I feel like I can't go on or I'm incapable of doing this, it is The Feeling that reminds me that I'm  where I'm supposed to be, and I keep going. 


Ahhhhhh, the writing itch is cured! :)