What a month! I thought I was doing pretty well moving forward until I realized I wasn’t. Like in the past I have learned that getting passed these moments is usually done but writing down, getting out or my mind and out of my heart and in print. was just that. I will always have to face these situations until I make changes in my life I am not ready to make. So I write.
On a personal level and in some ways a medical level, I have been considering a procedure that is both exciting and worrisome. I am working on making this decision and like most things, it is about me not being comfortable with my body. So making this decision is not easy and is taking a good bit of my time with research and logistics. Time will tell although I have about a month to get everything figured out so time will have to tell sooner rather than later. This is something I don’t want to tuck away and postpone. It is now or never and I don’t know if I am comfortable with never. We shall see.
What a month! Breaking through the block of writing is a bitch! It is something you feel coming but doesn’t really know why or how to stop it. You miss a scheduled a writing date, you write and don’t like it so you delete it, you just don’t even open the computer. This is my August and quite honestly my July. July was busy so I blamed on that but trying to write has been a struggle. Lots of emotions, financial issues, and changes, and some health stuff… plenty of reasons that become excuses. I am working on it and I must say that being a member of The Smutlancers Podcast Community has been a huge help. If you don’t know about this opportunity please check it out. The small but growing community of folks that gather here are supportive and full of ideas and helpful hints. More than just how to get your blog up and running, it is a place to realize that you aren’t the only one dealing with shit in your life and that you are struggling with writing, doubting their writing – etc. It is a safe place.
Having said that – forcing myself to express something in my writing and on my blog was generated from The Smutlancer Community and the support there. I took a very simple moment that meant a lot to me and focused on that moment. I still had emotions from the past that always come to mind but I was able to take a very precious moment for what it was and who it was with and realized that progress isn’t always as glaring as not making progress.
What a month! June was a busy writing month and most of it was introspective which can be exhausting. Looking back and July it seems I took a little break. Probably not intentionally but just life happening etc. I participated in the meme Wicked Wednesday and the prompt was Song. Speaking my language when we talk about music I was excited about this one. I had many songs that speak to my past, present and hopefully my future so it made me really think about the songs that have either reminded me of what I am or showed me what I wish I was.
July was also a visit to my Mom’s family farm and a family reunion with my first Dad’s side of the family. This was a fun trip with Mom, reminiscing and hearing stories that I had never heard. Spending time with Mom has been good at getting the history of things that I may or may not have known or knew and forgotten. My Dad’s side of the family wasn’t thrilled with my relationship with my wife and they struggled to remain in touch. For various reasons, I struggled with this and there was a separation there that had always bothered me. This trip would be the first face to face in many years. Honestly, if my second Dad was still around to drive my Mom to the reunion I probably wouldn’t have gone. Mom wanted to go and in her words, “this will probably be the last one”, so I said I would go. It went surprisingly well and there was a surprising amount of support although no mention of my wife or the divorce. That was fine. The visit to the farm was emotional. The place I learned to love and ride horses. The place my Mom grew up and learned that money isn’t everything particularly when there isn’t any. There were changes and new modern things that made it less (or more depending on your perspective) memorable but my cousin and his wife have done a nice job making it a home. July was the month of returning to childhood memories and adult resentment. Breathe Chrisy, just breathe!
What a month! I am a planner for most things. Whether those things actually work out or come to fruition is always up in the air but I do plan. This month hit and I was excited about the promise of summer. I like warmer weather. I started a project in May (yes I planned it) and it turned into more than I bargained for. (Even with the planning). It Cross my mind while doing this project, building a patio in the back yard, that I should have a party on the fourth of July. As quickly as the thought came it brought sadness with it. Parties were always fun planned with Sir. Over the top or last-minute impromptu, they were usually pretty good. So while building the patio continued the party planning was halted.
I decided to participate in the Every Damn Day In June meme and holy shit that was hard. But being hard doesn’t mean it isn’t fun. It was challenging to write every day consecutively. I was able to do it working the time zones and publishing at 12:03 am and saying it works for me. Working on loving my body a little more is something I have been focusing on and so much of the June writing was about that.
June was also the month my daughter and her girlfriend (both have been living with me since June 2018) decided to break up. Regardless of the reason breakups are hard and watching both of these wonderful ladies that I love so much struggle was hard. My daughter is here and her girlfriend left to return to Florida. The flood of tears and sadness is tangible in the house but like most things, they will learn and hopefully grow from this experience. Its been 10 months since my break up and I am still struggling so I have little advice for them accept to say love yourself through it and embrace the forgiveness of yourselves and each other.
What a month! You know the old adage, “never say never” and then there is never again. Well… never say never has a point. In all my retrospective self-analysis and searching for the reasons why I have noticed a pattern. Okay, I knew it was there but was never really willing to admit it or love myself enough to stop it. I am working on that. It is hard. The one that can get me through a break up needs a break up himself and it just isn’t working. I swore I’d never been here again and I fight with myself to do the right thing.
This is my daughter’s birthday month. All mom’s love their kid’s birthdays. We can either shower them with love and gifts or taunt them for the painful birth they put us threw. Sometimes it’s both. My daughter’s birthday means a lot to me because there was a time I wasn’t sure she would have the next one. Her struggles have been brutal and real and hard and she is still here. Sometimes I see in her eyes that she feels it would be easier to not fight anymore and just give in and let go. So every day, not just on her birthday I celebrate this beautiful life I created and this beautiful woman she has become. We keep it light and easy. This year I took her to a concert and amidst the already really drunk and wasted people and all the struggles to see and hear and not get beer spilled on us we looked at each other and said, “time to go.” Not because it was a reminder of her addiction, but because we both know that life is better than living it in a fog. Even when it is hard.
What a month! Still high from my Eroticon 2019! and hoping to keep that momentum going! The challenge of this is not letting the woes of life dim the light I gained during that weekend. The realizations that Eroticon helped me see many. I have always been insightful to things but rarely brave enough to look deep within myself. Eroticon was difficult in some ways because Sir would have loved it and I wished I could share that with him. The realization that just wasn’t going to happen was tough. I did write to him in a virtual letter he will never see although I may have emailed it to him to ensure that he would. That was probably a whiskey-drinking night when my best practices were less than my best.
Deciding to focus on some of the memes that are wonderful prompts to get me writing about things other than my heartbreak (that even to me at times seems too pathetic for anyone to endure). I decided to check out The Menopause Diaries, a meme managed by the amazing Marie of Rebels Notes. Between Wicked Wednesday and the Menopause Diaries, she keeps us all busy thinking about our “stuff” and writing about our wickedness. Now, let me be clear… I deny menopause at every chance given to me. I know its a thing I just don’t want it to be my thing. But reality being what it is I decided I may have something to say about it. My relationship with hair is love-hate at best. Mostly hate. I have it wear I don’t want it and don’t have it where I want it. I took this my first dip in the water of recognizing if not accepting my fate of menopause.
I installed security cameras for two reasons. Firstly, I am single and was living alone. Secondly, Sir always thought it would be nice if he could check on me when we couldn’t be together. The second never happened. He either didn’t want to or never took the time to check in but I still had these cameras. One is in the living room and one is in the bedroom. I find the security camera in the bedroom the most useful but most of the time I forget it’s even there.
What a month. This month was difficult but lately, they all seem to be. Still trying to find a new normal in all aspects of things. This is the anniversary month of my Dad’s death. Still sucks. Still hard to watch Mom find her new normal as well. Actually, it is harder to watch her find her new normal than it is to actually find my new normal. Life carries on whether we are ready for it or not. For that, I am grateful, although I rarely sound like I am.
As for my feelings about Sir and all of that, looking back at the past six months, I don’t know that I have gotten very far in my recovery of all of that, but I suppose my acceptance has seeped in a little more and become noticeable. I still think of him and write of him and I suppose that will take a while before it changes.
Writing this month has been fueled prompts from others and the thrill of Eroticon 2019. A Letter to My First Love was a wonderful trip down memory lane and to be honest, showed more of the patterns I am becoming more aware of and that is ok. Looking back at that time, and for the first time, not blaming myself but owning my actions and perhaps there was a little forgiveness there as well. It was a cathartic process and an amazing idea from the beautiful and insightful Brigit Delaney and her project The Erotic Journal Challenge. I owe her gratitude for prompting me to look at myself with a critical and non-critical eye. #eroticjournalchallenge.
Eroticon 2019! What can I honestly say about this experience that would do it justice. Never have I felt freer, welcomed, accepted and respected. Telling about myself is never easy. From the initial meet and greet interview questions to the last day with a group photo of amazing people sharing their Eroticon souls this experience was like no other! A Dissolute Life Means is the blog of Hy (as she signs her posts) and she is the brainpower behind Boobday. On the last day of Eroticon, amidst all the feels and emotions she thought it would be great to do a group “boob” photo. And so we did. In the conference room where some shared their writings, read aloud, their knowledge, shared with openness, their experiences, shared with open hearts and souls, we removed shirts and bras and gathered together to celebrate. It was the perfect and most unplanned spontaneous (with a little planning) moment to end the weekend and say goodbye until next year!
What a month! Ugh! The birthday month. Shared with my ex-Dom, separated by Valentine’sDay. How was this going to go? Last year, we celebrated together with minimal gifts, a little video game play, and then the rest of the evening in bed. It was the best gift he could give me. This year, he isn’t speaking to me. So, I made plans with family to celebrate a day I really don’t care that much about. I am thankful I survived another year, but the numbers, while just a number, bother me as they increase. I don’t feel what my age says I am. I don’t know what 54 is supposed to look like or act like but I’ve never felt my age. When I was younger I hung around with older people because I enjoyed the conversations. I would sit for hours and listen to the grown-ups talk while the kids my age were playing elsewhere. I loved the art of conversation. As I got older, I shifted and started hanging with people younger than me. They didn’t have the worries of older people. They didn’t sit around and talk about their aches and pains. Most of them anyway. I was never in my “age group”.
I set a date for dinner with my mom and the girls. Work schedules and other things led to Mom and me alone at Ledo’s. It was slightly pathetic. February was also the month of my Dad’s birthday and we always celebrated together. It was just too much. I just wanted it over.
I focused the rest of the month on Eroticon. My only bright spot and something I really was looking forward to. I made my reservations for air and hotel. A friend that travels more than me outside the states and she was amazing at suggesting the things I should do, that I would never have thought of. It was exciting and my bright spot. We do, after all, make our own happiness. Month to month, we just have to keep making our own happiness.
What a month! I guess it sounds repetitive but we survived another holiday. New Year’s Eve has never been to me what others make it out to be. We celebrated in the past with close friends, all staying close to home and safe. Last NYE I made a statement out loud that I would make 2018 my best year. It turned out to be one of the worst. This year, I was just thankful. Thankful I woke up. That was all. There were days when getting out of bed was the hardest thing I could do, but I never felt like I didn’t want to wake up. So I was thankful. Thankful Mom and I got through the holiday season with minimal tears. Thankful my family that is still with me is safe and close. I don’t think I could ask for more or expect more. It is a sad time and we all just keep looking for good things to become evident. Realizing that is probably not the best way to approach a new year, or life, in general, I thought long and hard about what I could do for me. I spend my entire time these days taking care of others and making sure everyone is set and ok. While online, I was scrolling through twitter and there were a few people talking about Eroticon. I didn’t think I was worthy of being with this group of not only amazing writers but amazing people who have supported and accepted and listened and encouraged me. I was not ready. I was not published. I still had so much to learn. I wasn’t up to their skill level. I wasn’t sure I would ever be. The conference was also in London. I’ve been traveled outside the states alone. This would be far too intimidating. How would I navigate? How would I know where to go and what to do and how to get there? It was too much. I shouldn’t go.
Then I read a blog this month of someone who was celebrating they would be making their second trip to Eroticon. She blogged about her first year and how scary it was. She had my same thoughts and fears. This was someone that I admired and wanted to emulate in the most complimentary of ways. It never would have dawned on me that she had fear and doubts about her skills. She was amazing!
I went to the Eroticon website and looked at the conference schedule. I loved the tracks that were available. Many I knew I needed and would help me improve. I did the calculations and conversions. I figured how much work I would miss. (If I don’t work, I don’t get paid, this was a big thing). I was sitting at my day job, the one that pays the bills, wondering if I could or should do this. In a very contrary impulsive decision, I reached for my credit card. I registered for the conference. I would do this. I could do this. I would do this for me because I deserved it. I deserved to do something for myself. So, I did.
What a month! This was a tough one. We made it work and made it different. Dad was with us in thought and memories but it was still sad and different in a way that challenged us all. My Mom is simply amazing. After the celebrations with food and gifts, the girls left to go to their other obligations. Mom and I sat and looked at the tree. It was artificial. I wouldn’t have put one up but Mom was coming and they are important to her. It was a pain in the ass to assemble and I cussed the whole time. She and I laughed on Christmas Day that it was one of the rare times Dad would swear in front of her. I love her, but I doubt I’ll be putting this tree up next year. I’ll give it the girls so they can have a little bit of Grandpa with them. I’ll go back to my baby Charlie Brown tree.
The entire month seemed to circle around, not the preparations for Christmas but the preparations for surviving another holiday without focusing on all the losses we have suffered over the past year. Losing my Dom (and for sure the love of my life to date) and my Dad in the same year was just about too much. While my Dom is still around and visible, I wonder if that is somehow worse. I decided that focusing on mom would be the goal and that helped me. I always shove my stuff aside to make sure everyone else is ok. This was no different. I will deal in my own time when I am sure that everyone else is ok. Life continues, and I am thankful for that. A new year is close and I can only hope that this new year will bring more happiness than sadness and we can all continue to find our new normal.
What a month! Holiday number 2 without Dad on the books. This was a crazy one for sure. If we were looking to make sure that things were different, we definitely accomplished that. The girls ended up having to work so our plan for having them here to distract from Dad not being here didn’t work. Mom and I got up and went to the restaurant where my daughter works for breakfast to surprise her. Then we went back to Mom’s and took a walk. Friday, we attempted to get together for Thanksgiving with the girls. Both ended up working late and getting stuck in traffic so we ended up eating really late. The one thing about us is that we can laugh at times when all we want to do is cry. My daughter took some time alone after dinner and sat with her Grandpa’s ashes and said what she needed to say. It was sad, and sweet at the same time. I was glad she got to do what she needed and said her last goodbye. That was the end of the month. Most of the month was spent trying to figure out how to survive Thanksgiving.
Loss seems to continue to be a recurring theme for me. It has taken on all kinds of shapes and shades of black and blue. I am trying to deal as best as possible. Some days are easier than others.
What a month! Halloween is over. This was a tough one for all of us. It was Dad’s favorite holiday. Strange right? Not if you knew him. He loved the season that Halloween brought. The cooler air, the pretty colors, and changing of the seasons. Not being a fan of summertime, this was a gift for him. He loved getting Halloween cards and we all always looked for the funniest ones, that had a little bit of that “off” humor that he loved. Mom and I didn’t shop for mums or flowers. We just rolled right through the month like normal. Well as normal as it could be.
I managed to get to the beach twice. Once with a friend to visit her parents at Hilton Head. It was a mission to check in on them. It was busy and slightly stressful but we managed one day at the beach. The second trip was for a weekend. The same friend had planned to go with a guy she was dating and that didn’t pan out. So we went together with the intent for a wild girls weekend. Well as wild as we get anyway. Saturday was spent listening to the ocean. I had coffee on the balcony. I was snuggled up in sweatpants and a hoodie. Coffee in hand (not good coffee, hotel coffee, but it was okay) and my thoughts spinning. I had intentionally left both laptops at home thinking I wouldn’t have time to write. Silly me. I had a ton of time. No kids, no dogs, no responsibilities, no time schedules. A ton of thoughts. I didn’t even have the paper to write them all down and we had technically declared a tech-free weekend with limited phone use. My friend has a bit of an addition to her social media accounts so we were attempting a form of detox. I rarely blog without a grammar checker and an obsession for proofreading but managed to blog a few posts from my phone. The beach and ocean made it impossible to walk away without getting some of my thoughts. down. My thoughts didn’t have a theme or even a track that they stayed on. They were all over the place. In those moments, you want to think that the thoughts and realizations you have will stay with you. That you can take them home and incorporate them into your life and regular schedule. I have been home for a week and I am already feeling myself slide. Sometimes the thoughts that make us better, help us heel or recover are hard to come by. Sometimes, those thoughts are easy, and it is the implementation that is difficult. I knew sitting on that balcony that I was being renewed. Refreshed. I found myself trying to figure out how I can live at the beach to always feel this calm and solitude. To always be reminded, daily, that I am strong and can recover from anything. I then found myself wondering if I lived there, would I be this grateful of what the ocean and beach give me. A very intelligent and thoughtful co-worker from one of my previous lives once told me that he was grateful for work. Without work, he would not be able to appreciate his vacations as much as he did. He found gratitude in everything he did, be it work or play. I remember wishing I could adopt that same perspective. Sitting on the balcony on a cold cloudy day in October, watching the waves churn up the sand and then retreat unapologetically, without guilt, it came to me that this is a choice. Gratitude is a choice. Appreciation is a choice. We all walk around wanting choices on the things that we really don’t have a choice to make. Sometimes, we ignore the things where choice is always there. The choice to be grateful. The choice to be appreciative. The choice to be proactive. The choice to be happy. The choice to be strong. The choice to be forgiving. We have choices. They are there for us. We just have to brave enough to make them.
What a month! This month has been one of the hardest ever. In my journey to the new me and also the real me, I have had a mentor, friend, and guide. He was also my Dom, my Sir, my Daddy. Started with Sir, and then as I grew and progressed I understood and accepted the title Daddy as I had lost my original objections to this term. He became that to me and more. He was also my best friend and as we progressed in our friendship, we progressed in other ways as well. It was a glorious journey. It had ups and downs as most do. We never fought and even our disagreements were handled with a calm and respectful conversation. He offered me the opportunity to open myself up to who I really wanted to be. True, I wanted to be that with him, but the truth remained that I had many things that were repressed. He not only gave me the tools to explore those things, but he was there with me all the way. I trusted him with so much of myself. More than I had with anyone. More than I doubt I will ever trust anyone else.
Our everything ended in a text. I said the wrong thing to the wrong person and he cut me off completely. He was no longer my mentor, my Dom, my part-time lover, and most sadly of all, no longer my friend. I felt sad and responsible. I was devastated. It is almost two months to the day (August 6, 6:34 pm) and I still feel the sadness and deep heaviness that lays on me like a concrete blanket. Some days are better than others, but not a day passes where he doesn’t run through my mind. His face, his voice, his smell, his laugh, his presence. It is always with me. I use to carelessly tell him that no one would ever love him the way I did. His girlfriends love him, but they don’t know all of him the way I do. They don’t know his darkest side. The lies he told, the truths he hid. I didn’t know all of them either but I knew most of them. I am not arrogant enough to believe he trusted me with everything but he trusted me with a lot. I am now left with that knowledge. I am left with the memories of what he shared and the trust we had together, but his touch, his voice, his presence is gone.
We still need to communicate occasionally because we work at the same place and with the same people. It is short, professional, polite. I haven’t heard his voice in two months. His words that ended everything are on a text stream on my phone. I can’t bear to delete them.
Life goes on. This wasn’t life ending. It was, however, the end of a chapter. Trying to move on without him is difficult. All the little things I couldn’t wait to tell him still happen, but I can’t tell him. All the things I want to share, the news we use to watch together and discuss, the songs that I knew he could cover still continue. Life doesn’t stop. He is everywhere in my house. The pictures he helped hang, his clothes in my closet, the soap and bath wash and a cologne he likes are still in their place. Maybe someday I will take them down. Maybe someday they will be replaced with another man’s clothes, another mans smell and another man’s voice. Right now I am not sure about that.
Dating sucks. Dating apps suck worse. I try to seem interested but it seems forced and unfair to anyone interested in spending the time to get to know me. It isn’t just the dating and the companionship. It is the kink and BDSM. The future is unknown. Everyone’s future is unknown. The hard part is knowing that my BDSM future is unknown. Admittedly, he was easy. He was seasoned. He was knowledgeable. He was a natural teacher. More than that he was a trusted friend, and that was the most important part. I trusted him with my heart, my body, and my soul. Losing that trust the way I did will make it even harder to trust again.
I miss him. I will always miss him.
Aside from trying to recover from this loss, I am still dealing with the loss of my second father, supporting my Mom and welcoming my daughter and her girlfriend into my home and adjusting to living with them. (Which I wouldn’t change for the world and I know they are adjusting too).
This past weekend I took a short trip to the beach with a friend. I had not been to the beach in four years for relaxation. I have always considered the beach is my happy place. My therapy. It became instantly clear that this was truer than I knew. I stepped on the sand and the tears flowed with the tide in front of me. Years of struggle with my daughter’s addiction, and all that life threw at me while going through that with her poured from my eyes like the dam had busted. The tears I had held back for years, and for the past two months were uncontrollable. It was a release of sorts, but not the kind that I expected.
The weekend was spent watching my friend handle her parents’ health issues and trying to make sure they were ok. That, and my break down that was needed, has left me feeling more exhausted than before I left. Through exhaustion, I find some relief. I’m sad. I will always be sad at the loss of my father and the loss of my Sir and friend. I have also realized that through the four years of hell with my daughter’s addiction, the loss of my farm and marriage, I am still standing.
Somethings show us darkness. Somethings show us light. Somethings make us stronger. In the end, it is our perspective that either saves us or lets us drown. The ocean will always show me that most things will come and go. They will give and take. In the end, it is what we decide to keep and cherish, let go of and file in a place where we can keep the lesson but lose the pain is what matters most.
What a month! I woke up on January first this year and declared it would be a better year. I have spent the past four and a half years dealing with horrible shit. Blunt yes, but there is no other way to describe it.
- December 2014 – My daughter admitted to me that she was addicted to heroin and ready to get clean.
- 2015 – the entire year was spent getting her clean. She would do it on her own at first. Didn’t work. She went to outpatient therapy and rehab, didn’t work. In August of 2015, I took matters into my own hands and put her in a 28-day inpatient program. It worked. In September we took her to Florida to live in a halfway house. In December of 2015, she and I spent Christmas on the beach together. I thought 2016 was going to be a good year. 2015 was spent getting my daughter clean. She was alive and healthy. 2016 would have to be better.
- 2016 – Keeping my daughter clean and healthy from a distance was challenging. While drugs weren’t an issue (as far as I knew) she was struggling for money and to find her way. She had spent her last two years in a fog. Now functioning was a challenge. When you put your kids in halfway houses because the rehab counselors say they can’t come back to your neighborhood, you also put them with all the other people struggling to regain their lives. They are all struggling to do the same things. It is always a vicious cycle. They cheat, steal and lie. Their relationships are rarely healthy. It was a year of struggle for us both.
- 2017 – With everything going on my vanilla relationship of 15 years was suffering. I was not able to focus on anything other than my daughter and my relationship took a back burner. When horrible things happen, some couples join together and work harder. Some make it and Some do not. I lost my relationship, my farm, and animals, my dream home, an extended family I loved and essentially everything. My daughter was alive and breathing but still struggling. My life was forever changed and I lost almost everything. But we move on. We rise up. We take the hit and keep strolling along. 2018 would have to be better.
- 2018 – Here we are in September. I’ve managed to rebuild to a point and felt confident waking up on January 1 and saying that this was going to be a better year. This would be the year I would be happy. How cocky that was. I lost my second father in March. My Mom watched him die of a heart attack in front of her. This is how my first dad died too. A heart attack in front of her. My daughter was in an abusive relationship and struggling to get out. My Dom decided I wasn’t needed after I made a mistake and he cut me off as friends, lovers, and our D/S relationship. In a text, he left and I haven’t heard from him in a month. My daughter moved home, depressed and broken. With a new girlfriend who is amazing but they are both struggling. So I am juggling being there for my mom and my daughter and her partner, dealing with all my losses. At the end of August, my wife sent me a notice of divorce. While this was no surprise it still had a hurtful impact. The closure is always necessary but it isn’t always easy. So much loss.
2018 is almost over. Four months left. I feel I need to hold my breath. I don’t know what 2019 will hold for me but rest assured, I will not pronounce it to be a good year. I will move quietly through the New Year and hope that if nothing else, it at least doesn’t get worse. I will never again pronounce a better year. I will never again proclaim to “make things better”. I have made decisions this month to move forward alone. To focus on my writing and possibly make it a second career. To focus on me. It sounds cliche’ but it is after all that everyone says you need to do. Love yourself so others can love you. I’m not there yet. But I can focus on doing things for myself that will hopefully turn out well in the end. My writing has always been important to me so I will focus on this and hopefully find a path that makes sense.
One thing I do know is, there seems to be a strength in the women in our family. I have only outlined the last four years, but going back further there is a long list of heartbreak and struggles that not only me but my mom and sister have endured. We struggle we rally. We come out on the other side stronger and ready for the next thing that life will throw at us. That is all we know how to do. We are strong women. Regardless of what is thrown at us and how we come out on the other side, we fight and stay strong. We suffer alone but we support each other. We are grateful for each other. That is all we know how to do. We do it well. As I watch my daughter handle her life I see she has that same strength. She is my hero. Stronger than I will ever be. For everything that has gone wrong in my life, I am grateful that the one good thing I have passed on to her is a strength. Just like my mom did for me and my sister.
This is how we survive.
What a month! Making decisions have always been difficult for me. I admire those people who know what they want and make the decisions to get those things. I admire the proactive people. The people that have their whole life planned out and know exactly what they need to do to move forward.
I also admire the spontaneous people. Those who aren’t afraid to take chances and fly by the seat of their pants. To impulsively made decisions and how those impulses ultimately work out in their favor.
Me? Reactive. I wait for things to happen I don’t make them happen. In all aspects of my relationship, I tend to ride the wave. I hate change so this reactive response to all things make that easy to accept. Jobs, living arrangements, relationships, all aspects of my life I simply wait for things to happen and react to those things as best as I can. The flip side to this is that I am a planner. I like to plan and be organized, but I struggle to act on those plans. Lazy? Yes, a little. Sometimes it can be attributed to being sad and depressed over life happenings. But I do have a lazy streak.
Me? Cautious. I am cautious and careful. At least that is how I have always wanted to justify it. Am I cautious or am I afraid? Do I hate change or am I afraid of change? I plan things cautiously which is good. Having a plan is good but are the plans a way of just being guarded about changes. Am I trying to be prepared to avoid change and surprises and life changes that will flip my life into changes that I don’t want or can not adjust too well?
Sometimes I want to be reckless. I want to take off work and travel or go on a cruise. I want to call out of work to just do things around the house or take my mom to lunch. I don’t because I’m too nervous about money. If I don’t work, I don’t get paid. Cautious is going into work every day like I am scheduled to do. Spontaneous would be calling out and not worrying about the money and doing what I want. Is there a balance to this that will make it OK? Sure. Perhaps that is where the skill is lacking. Balancing between cautiousness and spontaneous.
What a month! Impulsive, submissive, planner, organizer, organized, compliant, willing, able(?), independent, strong, strong-willed, accepting, controlling, controlled, jealous, resentful, scared, fearful, hopeful, sad, depressed, lonely, alone.
All these things could describe me. Looking at the list it is terrifying. I see so many contradictions. How do I sort out who I am and where I am going?
- Most of this is based on when I want things. I don’t wait for sales. If I want it, I buy it. My addiction to Amazon is a real struggle. It is strange to me that I can know in my brain heart and soul that I don’t have the money, or I should save the money for, (oh, I don’t know… maybe taxes, buying a house, paying down the bills… you know, the little things), but if I want it, I get it. To be fair, not just for me but gifts for others too!
- Sex – impulsive in that I see what I want and I go after it, with one person in particular. That is basically how I started in this new realm. I met someone who hinted at where he was and what he was into and once I understood, I went after it. I was starved for the experiences and what he could teach me. It was complicated (isn’t it always). I did everything possible to make myself available to him. Postponed doctors appointments, blew off my family, lied to the person I was with just to spend time with this amazing man who I knew could take me places I longed to go and some places I had no idea existed.
- Yes. I know this is me. Always has been me. I pick my battles carefully. I only fight when I am determined about things. My mom is the same way. She is quiet and thoughtful. She speaks up but speaks softly. As I am. Mom has learned how to balance it. I have not. I do however have a mean streak and when pushed I will rebel. It is weird to me. I wish I had the control my mom has. It is confusing because I can be a leader. I can take over and make things happen but it is usually only when I see the need and no one else steps up.
- Sexually – Yep! Here too. I never knew that I was and now that I have figured it out I am happy with it. It feels good to have something to call it. It feels good for sex to feel good. Finally. I am still exploring this. When I started these entries things were great and I thought I had a path to go down and I was satisfied with that. Things are different now. I am alone. I don’t want to settle for what others want anymore. I will be involved. I will ask questions. I will clarify those questions and be sure about my answers. I won’t feel pressure to answer based on what I think others want. I will be submissive, but I will be in control of myself. I am sure there is more on this later. I believe that sexuality is an ever-changing, growing, developing thing. I am happy about that. I am happy I am figuring that out. I’m still working on things, but I will get there. I have found an amazing place for support where I can be honest and ask questions and actually talk about my intimate preferences and perspectives. I love having a place and people who do not feel ashamed of their preferences. But embrace them.
Planner, Organizer, Organized –
- Oh my. I make a list this month is to remind myself to make list. I want to know in September what Christmas will look like. It’s annoying. Even for me. This doesn’t mean I am not capable of being impulsive or spontaneous. I just like to know what to expect. What to wear, what time to be somewhere, what meals to plan, the timing for the day, etc. I find the older I get the worse it gets. I actually know that it started after my daughter told me she was addicted to heroin. Whoever sees that coming? It became more important that I planned and made sure I had control of everything that I could control. Because I knew that I couldn’t control what was happening to my daughter. Not at first anyway. (Full disclosure, she kicked heroine’s ass but it was a rough and hard fight, month to month, day to day, minute to minute, second to second).
- Can you plan sex? Yes. You can plan for the time of day, what to wear, shave, pretty underwear, etc. My submissiveness saves me. I plan and organize and prep in every way and with every part of my life. Finding my submissive side in sex allows me to let everything go. Everything. I don’t have to plan. I don’t have to organize. I don’t have to be in control. I leave all of that up to someone else. it is freeing. It is mind clearing. It saves me.
To be continued…
What a month! Being alone and a part-time submissive has its challenges for sure. Holidays are the worst. In essence, it is my reality that I am “the other woman”. The difference being, the other women know about me and I know about them. This makes it honest and open, it does not make it easy. Knowing what he is up to is better than not knowing. Knowing he is with others is difficult. The happy medium is when I can be with him even when he is with others. Not being able to touch him is hard. Not being able to serve him is hard. Watching how I address him hard. It is all hard. It isn’t just hard this month but every day.
I sometimes wish I could be the type of submissive that doesn’t fall in love. That serve to serve and can have other intimate relationships when they are not able to serve. I’ve tried and I can’t. I also can not wrap my brain around the option of multiple Doms. No judgment, I just struggle with it. Maybe because he was my first, in my mind he will be my only. I can’t image the trust I have with him being an option with anyone else.
So holidays suck. This weekend will be more cleaning, yard work, and listening to the song “Girl Crush” by Little Big Town on repeat. Also spending a lot of time writing to pass the time and try to exorcize the demons that make me doubt I am still his Toy. The fear that the demons know the truth and my heart are fooling me.