Although I’ve had a couple of short, fun, play-type situations in the last two years, it’s been just over two years since I’ve had a full scene. When I played prior to that, it was typically pretty heavy, a bit of edge play, usually there was blood, always there was heavy impact, lots of whip action (my favorite thing), and deep energy exchange. Coming out of a consensual non-consent relationship, it’s been a struggle to figure out what my boundaries actually are, what I want from play, and what my limits feel like they should be. Outside of the typical limits most consensual players have, my only true limit has been no sensory deprivation – I can’t have my face covered or I can have a panic attack. But redefining limits is something I’m struggling with a bit.
Disclaimer: this writing is me thinking out loud. It’s not about fishing for compliments, it’s about processing some stuff. While it’s always nice to get those compliments, I’m much more interested in helpful suggestions/advice, and thoughts from people who experience this stuff in a similar way.
I had an interesting conversation Friday night with someone whose friendship and support and words of wisdom have been important to me over the last couple years. We were talking about life, death, and the end of relationships, and where I feel I am in my healing process. In the course of the conversation he said, “You need to get laid.” I laughed and said, “Well that’s a given, but I’m not interested in sex with a random person, so just how do I go about that?” He spoke then of only doing things and interacting with people who raise his vibration, not lower it. I’ve been ruminating on that thought.
I’ve had a rough few months dealing with grief and emotions and the difficulties of life. But I’ve had some revelations during the last few weeks that have begun to lead to some positive outcomes. And life is looking brighter.
I’ve been learning about caregiver guilt. It seems that when one has been a caregiver for a long time, one begins to feel responsible for the success and failure of the patient. Add in surrendered slave, and it becomes one big ugly emotional mess. I’ve been practicing the art of letting go. I’ve been working through guilt and I’m finding relief on the other side of it.
People come into our lives for a reason. Sometimes, we never know the reason and sometimes we can figure it out. I’m learning a lot this week about love and letting go. I’m trying hard not to own things that aren’t mine to own, and to take responsibility for those things that are mine to own. The latter is typically easy for me to do, but the former is much harder.
From March 1, 2009, until the evening of May 24, 2014, I lived as a collared slave. My life focus centered on my master. Over time, I became conditioned to always think in terms of what he wanted. If someone invited me somewhere, my response was always, “I need to ask permission.” When I shopped, I didn’t buy things I necessarily liked, I bought things he liked. When we were apart, I texted to let him know I arrived and texted to let him know I was leaving. I cooked and ate because he wanted to eat, not because I was hungry. When I was assigned travel for work, I always said, “I need to check the schedule at home before I can commit.” I always fixed his plate first at gatherings, got his drink, made sure he had no further need of me before attending to my own needs. Even in downtime, I was ever alert to orders and requests. Continue reading
I was asked earlier today if I’ve written anything else about what is happening in my life, and I realized that I haven’t. I’ve been hibernating, and that is something I promised myself I wouldn’t do much of. There’s a lot of stuff that has been going on for awhile now, and I’m still really processing the changes that have come. But I realize that things have been a bit cryptic, and so thought writing might both clear some things up for people who have followed our journey from the beginning and maybe help me with some of my own processing. This writing may ramble a bit as it’s sort of stream of consciousness, so read at your own risk. Continue reading
I have been told by a few people in the last couple of days that I do not owe explanations for the profile changes to anyone, and so it is not necessary for me to post any kind of update. Since so many people have followed along on our journey of the last year and a half, I wanted to squash rumors and give a little information. The whole story isn’t mine to tell and I will leave it up to Justin to share what he feels comfortable sharing when he is able. Continue reading
I always enjoy seeing discussions of the romanticized things in our scene, most of which are associated with M/s in some way – the ‘gift’ of submission, ‘slave heart’, a master must master himself, etc.. In the past, I would get very involved in those discussions. But ultimately, I would be told by someone that my view hurt someone’s feelings or otherwise invalidated someone. And so I stepped back from those posts and generally just ignored them. Continue reading
When I was in my teens, 20s and early 30s, I spent a lot of time being medicated for depression and anxiety disorder. My anxiety disorder was so bad that at its worst point, I would often feel myself separating from my body, floating sort of above myself, while in some potentially dangerous situations like driving down the highway. I spent years cycling through many different anti-depressants, taking Xanax and Valium like candy. In my early 30s, I decided I didn’t want to take pills anymore to get through my day, and I worked very hard to get myself off of the meds. Now, I still have some times when I can feel myself falling into depression, and I work hard to realign my thinking, to pull myself out of it.
Having had that long experience personally has been infinitely helpful to me in the last several months. Continue reading
I find myself over the last few weeks turning inward to examine who I am as a woman and as a slave. My life has taken many twists and turns over the last year, and each new fork or twist on the path seems to lead me to new thoughts and deeper examination of just who I am inside and what my life portrays to the world we inhabit. This writing will probably be a bit rambling and not necessarily coherent, but it will contain thoughts I need to get out and put back together, much like a jigsaw puzzle. Read at your own risk. And as usual, these are only my thoughts that apply to me, and so your mileage may vary. Continue reading