So… today is June Third! I read my post last night and I was clearly in a bad way. This morning isn’t much better other than realizing how pathetic I sounded in my post. This morning, I woke up. That is a good thing. In the grand scheme of things a patio that refuses to be built is not the worst thing in my life right now. Maybe it is another straw on the camels back, but the camel’s back is not yet broken.
Having said that, when I woke this morning I recognized a familiar pain. It was an ache of sorts and it was familiar to me. Familiar enough for me to look in the mirror and check it out. There they were. Purple and blue spots. Some round and some elongated with one big mark that filled me with confusing emotions.
I have always liked the marks I received from my D/s relationship. Marks by his hands, crops or paddles were always something that gave me true joy. They were reminders of our precious time together. Reminders of my submission and his Dominance. I would stare at them, photograph them, and revisit those memories in the times that I was alone and without him. When I would feel their presence in the days following their birth, I was able to relive the moment. Every slap, every sting, every “thank you, Daddy”, all of it.
When I woke this morning to the familiar ache of my new bruises I wasn’t happy and thrilled to see them. They were acquired by rolling around on my ass in a pit of rocks trying to get some fucking tile to lay level. There was no joy in seeing them this morning – only sadness and longing for past bruises from his hand.
June third, 2018 and June third, 2019. Is a mark just a mark?
I looked back on my calendar and June third of last year, he and I were together and had a wonderful night together. I won’t dwell because I have actually been doing pretty well at keeping him and his memories at bay of late. He creeps into my mind every day without fail, but not always in a painful way. Today I will allow the pain to surface. Perhaps as a reminder of how far I have come in these past 10 months, but also to allow myself the practice of working through the breakup that crippled me the hardest.
Even as a kid I liked it when I found bruises on my body. Whether I knew how I got them or not, I liked them. When I found D/s with Daddy, the marks took on a new meaning. A very special meaning. Seeing these marks this morning made me sad. I still like bruises and marks. It is a bit of a badge of honor to me. In the same way that I worked hard to please Daddy and receive the marks from him, I also worked hard to try and accomplish the task I had set for myself. So, these marks could and possibly should make me feel good. To be honest, they do.
While they do bring a little satisfaction they also bring sadness and longing for how I use to get bruises on my ass. As I sit and shift in my seat today feeling the pain and ache from the marks I received from sitting on rocks for three hours yesterday, every ache and every sensation makes me think of him. So today, June Third, I resign myself to spend the day lost in old memories. Good memories that I tucked away because they were painful but they can not be suppressed today.