Love. That seems to be a running theme for me these days. Unconditional love. Being love. Giving love. Seeing the world through love. Sending love. Sharing love. Loving through compassion.
*Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.* Continue reading
I am sitting here this morning processing an incredibly transforming weekend at SWLC and my mind is so full of pictures and emotions, I know I won’t be able to capture them all here. I knew the weekend would be challenging for me. In 2013, Justin was in the hospital, so I didn’t participate in SWLC, but I did drop by the cigar porch each evening on my way home for an energy load. Beyond that, this was my first SWLC without Justin since 2009. It was my first Dance of Souls without Justin ever. So I knew the weekend would be filled with emotional challenges, but I had set the intention to be open to whatever Spirit put in my path. I was in exactly the right place at exactly the right time. Continue reading
Each year during the last of December, I spend a lot of time reflecting on the passing year and thinking about what I want for life in the coming year. This year that process seems much bigger than ever before. When I did this last Christmas, I had no idea what 2014 was going to bring, and only hoped for Justin’s continued recovery. That was my only focus last year at this time. It wasn’t even on my radar that this year I might be doing this alone with a completely blank slate in front of me. Continue reading
The first time I met Lady Beth, I was both excited and a little bit nervous. Justin had told me lots of stories about her, I had talked with her on the phone and via email, and I knew this was a woman I would love. She was one of the most important female figures in Justin’s adult life, and she loved him no matter what stupid or hurtful things he did. It was 2009, and it was a big trip for me in general because I also met Justin’s parents that same trip. It was him bringing me home to meet the family. It was important. Continue reading
It’s been almost five weeks since Justin passed away. I’ve realized over the last five weeks just how much grieving and stress I’ve been under for the last two years, since his heart attack and brain injury. I’ve had a couple of people say to me things like, “but you were getting divorced, wasn’t your relationship over?”. The first time someone said to me, “I know you were broken up, but…”, it was kind of shocking to me, because I had never really thought of it as a ‘break up’ in the normal sense. It’s difficult to explain all the things tied up in all of that to someone who hasn’t been a presence in our lives over the last six years, particularly the last two years. Without seeing it for yourself, nothing I say could really create an accurate picture for someone who hasn’t been here. And so I’ve stopped talking about it. I’ve stepped back from most things social, from blogging and posting, even mostly from talking about the things I’m processing and going through, except to one friend who is probably getting sick of hearing me repeat myself over and over again. I’ve been feeling guilty about heaping it all on him, too, and so have stopped over the last week seeking him out as well and just handling it myself. Continue reading
The few weeks since Justin passed have been a roller coaster of emotion. I have received the kink items that I requested from one source, and I have received his wedding ring, collar, boots, and jacket from his dad. They are all here, in the closet or on my dresser. I feel more at peace just being able to touch these items, to feel the energy, Justin’s energy. They are bringing me comfort.
I’ve been struggling with the what ifs and regrets. If he had stayed here in May instead of going home, would he still be here? If he had, would I have survived the emotional and physical toll that caregiving while working was taking? I know that the what ifs are futile. There is no answer to them. But I can’t help the circular thoughts.
It’s been two weeks since Justin passed away. Three weeks since we last talked via email and text the night of the event that sent him to the hospital. There has been turmoil and even some ugliness involved that I am beginning to let go of. It’s funny the difference between people who were close to Justin, who spoke with him recently, who have known him and been close to him for the last six years versus those who knew him in the past or have only really known him since he left AZ to go back to NC. I have to remind myself that each person only knows their small piece, but not the whole. I also have to remind myself that the Justin who left AZ for NC in May was not the same Justin prior to the deepening depression. He was a man with a mission, a man marking time.
I am blessed to have a Tribe that loves me. The question I keep getting is, “What can I do for you?”. The reality is that there is nothing I need other than time. The one thing I want, the one thing I’ve wanted for a very long time, no one can get for me. And that is the way it is.
Justin breathed his last three months to the day after John. This house seems overridden with darkness. The world has stopped, but I’m the only one who seems to have noticed. I can’t sleep, but then I do for a bit. I was jolted awake this morning by an image of Justin’s boots, his motorcycle boots that it was my job to take care of, on a shelf with a tag on them and the thought that I had to get them. His boots aren’t here where they belong. And that is weighing on me.
Some people process by talking. Others process by going inward. I do a little of both of those, but I mostly process after going inward by writing. I’m still processing and will for a long time to come, I think. And so tonight, I am writing. Both to process and to inform. This is not a happy writing and it doesn’t contain good news. In fact, it contains the worst kind of news. But I just don’t have it in me to start contacting people personally, so tonight I write.
It has always been amazing to me that people I’ve never met in person want to read what I have to say here. When Justin and I came together right here on fetlife in late 2008, and later announced his move to Arizona, every few months, I would get private messages asking me when I was going to post an update about us. People often told me that they enjoyed watching us because we were so real, and because we had a spark of some sort. It always felt a little intimidating to me, but Justin’s philosophy was to be out in front where people could see him and hear him. And so I was required as his slave to be very public about our lives together.
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.