Representation...

I just read this: "A submissive female is the reflection of her Master in her actions."

The statement struck me as a truth. It is possible that you disagree. Let me lay out my reasoning, and however it may worm around in the chaotic mess that is my mind lately, I will do my level best to make it clear and understandable, rather than some wandering blather that goes everywhere and nowhere at once!

Example:
Thinking back to the TSR website, many of my memories concern "trolls." Trolls were the main reason W/we did not post there, Master and I. One troll in particular couldn't keep her stories straight, yet time and again after being called out she continued to post and sling insults at everyone. If the post began to divert course from giving her attention, guess what? You bet she posted again, intentionally dragging attention back to herself. Many lambasted her on how her words reflected her master's lack of control, to which she responded that he did not care what she said on there.

---- It is commonly said that action speaks louder than words.  ----
W/we saw that the continued ACTIONS of her posting to divert attention to herself, to deliberately lie to others, and to speak as if she were better than everyone, downsizing everyone who disagreed with her... those actions reflect a complete lack of self-control. It is my humble opinion that if a slave has such lack of self-control, that said slave would be refused the permission to post by any true Dominant to whom that slave belonged. This is merely this girl's opinion, however, not necessarily a worldwide reality!


My Feelings On That Girls Actions & Words:
I ... am... dumbstruck by such idiocy. How could any good slave possibly be willing to flat out lie on their posts, let alone treat others so disrespectfully, and their Dominant would allow such behavior? First, let me tell you that I do not now, nor did I ever, believe she was truly in a D/s relationship in any way. The idiocy of her statements simply gives away what she really was and probably still is... she is a liar, a compulsive attention whore. That is all. If she truly is in a D/s relationship, I sure don't understand it. She tops from the bottom, is a self-proclaimed brat. My Master would never have her. A good many masters & mistresses on TSR stated the same. As a matter of fact, it was within just a month's time of her first posts that my Master disliked her intensely, though at the time she seemed on very good behavior. Boy, can HE make excellent predictions! Master has excellent insight on both situations and people. There are many good reasons I call Him "The General!"


***  For Later Discussion with Master:
Now in writing this, my dislike for the troll's actions and words is revealed. And yet, because I write it down, I feel I am judgmental in writing such things. Where the troll was so judgmental of others, so I am judging her now. Does this make me a bad slave? Does it mean I misrepresent my Master? I shall have to ask my Master.


On Representation and Reality:
In my opinion, yes, a slave's actions and words do indeed represent their master. A slave represents their master in thought and deed. Our thoughts become our words, our words become our actions. Do not confuse an adult with a child, however. A child that may be reared properly and still become a serial killer; a child is an unfinished human in terms of development, without true consenting ability and without a true idea of actions and consequence. Only adults can consent to such a thing as slavery and full submission with a full understanding of action and consequence, right from wrong. Perhaps if a slave is mouthy and hateful toward others, it may show that his/her dominant takes pleasure in seeing the slave become "top slave" and verbally dominate other slaves on the rise to the top of the slave "pecking order." There was such a case on TSR; this was a completely separate couple than "troll girl."

My idea of right and wrong on part of a slave's actions is not necessarily reality for all slaves and all dominants. As stated, one master took pleasure in seeing his girl verbally abuse other slaves in her naturally dominant attitude, taking pleasure in watching her rise to the top of the slave pile in TSR. He enjoyed seeing her put fear into others, stating he had no care at all for other slaves, only caring for her, and that she pleased him as she became an alpha submissive amongst a group of submissives. He did not deem what she did or said as bad behavior (though my Master certainly would) and it seemed that she could do no wrong amongst the other slaves or dominants because she had the absolute backing of her master in his own clearly written words on the site. Nevertheless, I felt her behavior & words absolutely showed her master's belief that he himself was better than other people in general. He did act that way, as if the rest of us were all pawns to the game of his majesty, the master of his lofty submissive.

The Golden Rule:
We are taught as children (hopefully!) that we should do unto others as we would have them do unto us, meaning to treat and speak to others the way we wish to be treated and spoken to ourselves. Perhaps there are folks out there who prefer to be walked on, I am not such a one. I am, on occasion, verbally aggressive and protective when there is an underdog, when there is a cause, when there is something that I feel needs to be said in a world inhabited by bigots. I am in my 40's now. I am not at all concerned with how the people of the world think of me. I am, however, VERY concerned with how my Master thinks of me. I am VERY concerned with how I represent my Master, that I should do so in a way that he finds pleasing. Ahhhh! Paradox!

Until He is here, it is a mystery to me how I am to continue to be myself (charging forward with sword and shield, erm... pen and paper...) and still please my Master. Once He is here, this girl is positive that He will make it all clear, completely... utterly... clear.

I do hope He is patient. It may be very difficult for me to change nearly 30 years of behavior. Tried telling him that last night, as a matter of fact... hahahaha. Of course He did not budge in his statement. I am to learn to control a particular behavior. But that is a discussion for another day. Until then, and through to the end, this girl will do her level best to represent her Master in the best possible light by using her words well if and when He wishes for her to speak... and by her actions, in keeping her actions positive and kindly.

I believe that my Master wishes for me to represent Him in this way. Anything else will be, of course, summarily corrected!

Je t'aime mon Maître Adoré.

Significance of trust...

Sooo I'm blundering around in submissive journal prompts by lunaKM and I find this gem of a question:

"If you found out that someone had lied to you about something significant from the beginning, would you want to rebuild the relationship or walk away? What is your personal ‘line of tolerance on honesty’?"

Well well well. What an interesting question.

My answer?
It depends on what the lie is about. If it's something that affects MY trust of the person in regards to future lying, then I'll probably show them the door. If not, then it just depends. I'm a fairly open-minded and tolerant individual MOST of the time. (I think...)

For example, if Master said to me today that he is actually married? I would never speak to him again. It would be done, just like that. If he told me that he had another child that he's refused to talk about? I'd be gone, just like that. If he told me he's a pedophile? That would be it. I think those are probably deal-breakers for nearly everyone. Those are major lies, really.

However, if Master told me that he'd been thinking about something and just didn't know how to say it for all this time, or maybe had proven amnesia, that might be forgivable. (Pedophiles are not forgivable, nor are any of the other points given in the previous paragraph.)

Perhaps a friend tells me after 10 years of friendship that he/she is gay/lesbian. My response? So what? Doesn't affect my feeling of friendship. Doesn't affect my trust. It's an example of them having hidden something from everyone, even maybe themselves. I can't fault anyone for that. If my Master decides he's gay (Impossible, not even unlikely just flat impossible!) but IF HE DID... hypothetically speaking, I would be upset, but I couldn't be angry. As a matter of fact, I would ease his passage into another life with someone because I love him. The change of sexual orientation is not a sudden thing. However, it is such a socially charged issue that people are well-versed in lying to themselves as well as everyone else, hiding for their own mental and emotional survival. They try and try to live the way they are "supposed" to, and most people find that after a time, they cannot continue walking the path of lying to themselves with such deep unhappiness in their lives. I cannot fault someone for not even being willing to open their own eyes and look into themselves until they feel safe to do so. As a matter of fact, I would feel honored that someone chose to share such a deeply hidden thing with me, even if that took time. Don't get me wrong, it would be heartbreaking and I would be upset as hell, but it would be the personal change for me, about which I would be upset. It would never affect my friendship with my Master or significant other.

I think the gist of this whole idea is intent and type/depth of relationship. It matters one helluva lot if a lie is deliberately, maliciously kept secret by another person who initiates, pursues, and continues an intimate relationship with me, despite knowing it will hurt me. 

Comparison for comparison's sake.
Premeditated lying... like premeditated murder, that is a big deal. You intend to harm and you do it with careful planning. ("Oh sorry, did I forget to mention that I'm already married?" WTF!!)
Manslaughter is an accidental death caused by another person, it is still punishable by law because someone died. Same with lies such as sexual orientation. You didn't go out of your way to hurt anyone, you went out with the intention of living "a normal life," and when you realized something important as an issue, then someone else gets hurt by what is a complete accident of eventual revelation.

Basically I'm saying that, "Oops, I'm actually already married," (knowing it beforehand) versus "Oops, actually I'm gay," (level of self-deception in order to comply with society and familial demands) shows a huge gap on the lie factor scale between one another. Either way, I'd be hurt, but I would survive it, that I guarantee you. ;)

Once In A Lifetime.

List all the things that have happened to you only once in your entire life.

Holy shit. Are you fucking serious? I'm in my early forties, I don't even know if I can remember things that have happened MULTIPLE times unless it was fairly recent!

Naturally my mind immediately drifts to focusing on negative things, but there are some good ones too.

• I've only given birth once. 
• I've had only one caesarean section.
• You only get one birthday a year, therefore I've had only ONE 1st birthday, ONE 2nd birthday, ONE 3rd birthday. (You see where this may lead... haha)
• I've had ONE Master. I do not intend to ever have another and should anything happen to this one, I'll never walk this path willingly again. 
• I've successfully trained one mustang.
• There was only one horse with which I've truly connected and bonded with.
• Rodeo queen - once.
• I only moved to North Carolina once.
• I've flown one plane once in my life as the pilot (in training). 

Wow. Who knew?

Can't think of anything else at the moment, but I may revisit this topic. :)

Planning; reality & foresight.

Ahhhh Planning. How we all love to do it. No living in the moment for us! Hell no! We must PLAN our lives! It's human nature! We Plan to do everything! We think it through thoroughly! We get to "the moment..." annnnnnnnnnnd Reality kicks in and all our Planning is for nothing. Eventually we get enough experience that Foresight kicks in and we may entertain ideas and Planning, but we know that realistically, there is a high possibility of the Planning not becoming Reality.


                                    For example:



A fellow just came into my office with a tag to leave for a coworker that specified a particular plant he's got at his house. It is one of my favorites, Gaura lindheimeri, which unfortunately doesn't like to grow at the altitude at which I live. Deplorable, this. This plant is commonly known as "Whirling Butterflies." Tiny flowers at the end of long thin stalks "whirl" when there is a breeze. A desert plant, it prefers warm, dry climates with well-drained, sandy soil. It comes in white and pink.




I envision the plant with dreamy memories. My brain awakens as my Idealism begins the attempt to drag me down the Planning path, my very experienced Foresight saying, "Uhhh no. I don't think so." In self defense, my brain awakens "the Voice of Sensibility," the one that uses all of that lovely experience and combines it sensibly with realistic foresight in order to avoid planning ridiculous things and thereby talks me out of doing them? ...       Well anyway. That tiny voice in my head pipes up, "Where are you going with this Gaura bit?" I answer quickly, "Well, I'm Planning of course! I am thinking about gutting my flower beds next spring." The Voice quickly decides to shut down the Planning, shows me images of my flowerbed from this past spring, then fast-forwards to images of my flowerbeds now. Egad! The weeds! Catastrophe!

Reality slaps both of my cheeks!
    I freeze.
        I sigh.
            I realize that this year did not go at all to Plan.

Hmm. Gonna have to think about this.

The bedevilment!

Back to my inner brain conversation...
Idealism kicks back in, but sneakily, until it has full sentences with which to drown out "The Voice of Sensibility." Idealism starts by talking very quickly, "Naturally, according to Foresight, I should ACT NOW! Ahhh! Even better. Gutting that flowerbed NOW would be good. I could dig up everything weedy and be done with it!"  --- It is at this point that "The Voice" rolls its eyes, folds its arms and begins to tap a foot whilst staring ceilingward and counting to 10. Eventually, Idealism quiets down, knows it has lost the battle, and wanders down to a pond to kick a few rocks while mumbling softly under its breath. My brain & I both sigh in relief, having observed the whole thing whilst munching popcorn and fervently hoping that "The Voice" would not kill my Idealism. One cannot live thoroughly without at least a LITTLE Idealism, right?

Fabulous! Both my Idealism and I have survived so far this year!

Reality
Planning didn't get me anywhere this year, you see. I didn't do a thing with my flower beds this year at all. I didn't have the energy. It's not like NOTHING grew though. I have a few die-hard plants just blooming wildly, growing happily in the sun-baked clay. And look! Just this weekend, a friend told me that I have a lovely crop of weeds! ---- Hrm. Uh. Yeah. Well.... Honestly yeah, I didn't manage to raise my energy this year. I didn't manage anything but survival, however I believe that was quite an accomplishment in itself. It has been a strange year!

As I said, though, in Reality, I managed survival, which is a great accomplishment!

There are people out there for whom "Survival" isn't good enough. Just a quick peek, let's look at how Planning, Reality and Foresight affect some people in "the Real World." (Humor me as I digress, please)

According to the everyday practicing witch or Pagan, the last day of the year is October 31st, Samhain. The New Year is brought in by Dia de los Muertos, a celebration of family, memories, & ancestors. Dia de los Muertos is the current Mexican version of a very very old ritual with many names that spreads across many religions, both Christian and Pagan. Look up Bon Festival, Chuseok, Qingming, Gai Jatra, All Saints Day, etc. A few of them take place at different times of the year, however. How do the Christians feel about it? Well of course anyone who is not Christian is going to burn in hell. It's not Planning. It's not Foresight. It's their idea of Reality. Scary!






Strange how the embrace of Death is thought to be horribly unnatural by practicing Christians. Unlike Islamic religions, there is no honor involved in dying nor in the method of death for the whole of Christianity. Death is feared! Death, the Grim Reaper, quite often is equated with one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, as riding a pale horse or a black horse. Wellllll nowwwww, that's a Planning of sorts, is it not? Christians rely on biblical readings in order to Plan their lives. They Plan to "be good" and with Foresight, realize they are merely human, and since Hell is a Reality to them, they spend their lives terrified of doing anything wrong. So much for The Human Condition.

What is so terrible about death? Death is the great equalizer. Everyone dies. Christianity shuns dying and death with terror. But then, organized religion shuns everything not within its complete control. An "afterlife" of sorts is looked upon favorably, as no one has proof and therefore no control over the idea of such a thing. Death itself in the Christian view seems very negative and laced with fear. The process of dying is riddled with horrors of all sorts. The only thing that Christians Plan for is Heaven. AFTER life on this earth... they are Planning for something AFTER this. Not this reality. Not this NOW time. They spend their lives Planning for something about which they have no proof! *face palm*






I suppose a great deal of Christian's fear is based on the belief in hell. How sad for them. I'm sure Dante's Inferno (Divine Comedy) didn't help. Damn that Dante! Everlasting torture... there's some Planning for you. The perfect "Eternal One" had the Foresight to see humanity was going to act more horribly than two-year-old children throwing eternal tantrums, so of course god Planned a place for humanity to be tortured and burned forever based on ridiculous rules that got even more ridiculous over the years.

SOMEONE'S REALITY!

Atheists, well we don't worry at all. LOL! You live. You make the most of the time you have. You die. Nobody knows when. It's the most simple view, quite honestly. For me it is the only sensible view.  Oh how I like playing with wicca, but I can never believe goddess or god exist anywhere in any form other than within our own selves. To believe otherwise is senseless and cruel.







But back to my garden and how my brain works. Do you see the pattern? I'm chugging along with a thought that melts and reforms into another one... and

      Alas!

             I have shifted too many directions to stay on one solid sensible path!

You see where my ideas go. I come across something... Behold! An idea! I begin to plan. "I'll take out the flowerbed plants that should be shifted elsewhere and do just that, then replant with new stuff! Or at the very least, I'll weed!" Then something comes along... and I get distracted by Reality. All the dreams and planning turn to fluff.

Fortunately...
-- I have gained much foresight from my experiencesm thus I acknowledge that odd thinking cycle exists and that life plays with me quite roughly.

Such is life for any one of us. I tell you this!

I will survive!

Being Grateful and Taking it Easy

I had an appointment this morning with my son's counselor for educational planning. I was there half an hour early, having been stressed enough to forget the actual time of the meeting, and having not looked at the reminder paper before leaving for the appointment. In the parking lot, a young woman was tearfully waiting, her cell phone to her ear. I couldn't read her look, but then she is a teen and it is difficult to read them sometimes with the gamut of emotion that they have daily. As I walked into the building, a vehicle pulled up and the young lady got in. Once in the office, her mother finally appeared, explaining the medical reason for her daughter being pulled out of school.

I realize during the discussion how scary it must be for that parent, when her child has such medical problems. The girl then walked in to be with her mother. I mentioned to the girl to look up a particular herb that should help her. After the girl left, one of the office secretaries and I ended up in a discussion about herbology & herbal treatments for the condition, as the secretary herself seems to be suffering from the same problem. A brief amusement ensued as we laughed about 4 year planning when each of us live day-by-day and sometimes minute-to-minute. It depends on the stress level...

Being half an hour early had an advantage for a giver such as myself. Long interest in herbology and the study and application of medicinal herbs gave me incentive. I took the extra time remaining to zip on down to the local organic market and picked up some of this herb for her in loose form in a jar with teabags to steep, a tincture, and a pill form. She wanted to pay me and I refused, stating that the payment would be finding out if it worked for her. I really am supposed to let folks pay me for things like this, but she didn't ask me to get those things and truly it will be worth it to find out if those things do the trick for her. (Yeah yeah I know. I'll do without something of my own now...)

The appointment began and though a lot of talking about nonsense ensued, it was certainly different in that during last year's appointment, my son sat with folded arms in silence with one word replies. This time he was animated and happy and the difference for both the counselor and I was such a relief!

After the appointment, an acquaintance was seated in the office. I asked if his appointment for planning was next. He said he was pulling his child out of school to go to the doctor in a larger town, a specialist. A bit more information and I discovered his fear is that his child has skin cancer. I wished him luck and left, passing a man who also came to pull his child out of school for a moment just to give a daily diabetic shot.

I walked out of that building. It occurred to me that my problems are small. Very small. I may have my moments, living from minute-to-minute, and this month has been no small test so far, with many more tests in sight. At least I can see what I am facing. The poor man who is taking his child to the specialist in another town has no idea what he's facing. It could be life threatening, financially impossible, or very very simple. At that moment, as I looked at the gorgeous rich blue of the sky, the golden leaves of the Catalpa trees, the cool deep forest green of a spruce, and smelled the clean air... at that moment I realized I have it easy! I really do! Life hasn't handed me a whole bunch of terrible shit! Life has given me a fairly easy path to walk! Really. We aren't ill. We don't have life threatening diseases, or diseases of such expense that we cannot afford to keep our house. We don't have bill collectors breathing down our necks because of unpaid bills. Hell, I got this shit handled! I'm on TOP of this shit! We're good! We got our health and we got each other!

Yeah yeah. I know. A little while later and I'm very glad for my Xanax as I think about my vision problem, the doctor appointment where they'll probably still tell me 'No,' the cost of boarding my dogs and what the hell to do with the birds in a cat infested house of relatives I am to stay with who are very religious and whom I haven't seen for years, my dog that pees in the house that is also an absolute cuddlebug who is devoted to me, and the fact that my husband is still not in this country and my son wants to go into the military in the biggest fighting force in the world that the rest of the world uses as fodder in every battle they wish to get into over corporations and greed.

Hmph. I sound like Gloom & Doom again. It's all fear, you know. Fear of the unknown.

The fear of the unknown motivates us all. We get up every day with the fear that if we don't go to work and make money, we will not be able to pay our bills, and then we don't really know what will happen. Bankruptcy? Losing it all and living on the street? Large unknowns really make people move a lot. We squirm, we complain, we get moving and do it all anyway. What would we be doing with ourselves if we didn't have this financial structure set up to work within? Would we all be thinkers? Dreamers? Traders? Would there be Camaro's and Lamborghini's and 4.2 billion dollar Hollywood mansions? Would there be a Pussy Riot or Disturbed or even Lady Gaga? Would there be war? How about religion?

Meh. It's all meh. Death and taxes are the only absolutes. For once, I would like to just accept that and move on, not fight tooth and nail against everything I abhor. It may be my nature to fight, but I'm so tired of fighting I just want to LIVE now.

One day at a time.

Torn by the past & taking responsibility.

One of my deepest fears is that I will end up walking the old path - to nobody's detriment but my own. I am obviously submissive and it is hard for me to open up to anyone, really. In the past I was able to tell anyone anything, but over the years it seems my fighting strength has either been sapped by time or by motherhood and the instinct to not fight in order to protect my son.

The old path...
It is no secret that my mother was a tyrant. We "walked on eggshells" around her. This simply means we were VERY careful in what we said and did in order to not upset her. An upset mother meant one thing, anger. Her anger burnt hot and vengeful. She had no problems taking her rage out on us, but Dad & I were her alternating favorites for venting. When Dad would get pissed and leave, I couldn't because I was a kid so I took the brunt of it when he was gone. I learned early on to keep my mouth shut. We weren't allowed emotions and I was full of them.

These days...
What I learned was a passive aggressive response of watching and biding my time. When someone fucks up, I kick them to the curb. Now, I'm here to tell you... this doesn't work in marriages. It ends marriages right damn fast. I SURE won't work in a Master/slave relationship and perhaps this is one of the draws of slavery for me. It means that no matter what stupid shit I might want, it will not be allowed... or will it.

What happens if I say something stupid and hurtful to my Master? I have had this false idea that Masters own a slave forever, like a kajira. A kajira is property to be punished at His will. Well, I've had that false idea shattered. So many Masters abandoning slaves after what has been presented as a minor digression of a slave or else the Master has moved on to someone else after weeks/months of lying to his slave. I'm terrified.

I suppose I should expound on what I mean by "saying something stupid and hurtful." Well here. In my last marriage, it was shattered by my fury as I proclaimed that he was a coward (truth) for not defending me from other male's advances or against his own mother's hateful sarcasm. During the marriage I had alluded to those things, but I don't think he ever really understood just how much those things bothered me. In my female mind, mentioning it alone should have been enough. Men don't work that way. They miss subtleties. Men require direct language (without hostility) and direct action (without force or hurtfulness) in order to get a point across. I get that now.

Except I'm not male. In my heart of hearts, I love this man, my Master, like no other. Still I am filled with the fear of my own screwups, that I will do something or say something to break the ties that bind us. It would be a moment of sheer stupidity. It would be a moment of pure fear, or pure rage, the terror of what is happening around me breaking me so that I choose the wrong thing out of the need for relief (trying to break up with him on a cell phone) or such rage that I am willing to break and burn it all (fury at Ron for his cowardice over the years, unanswered by my questions of why didn't he stand by me, why didn't he say something... hearing all those, "I don't knows" echoing in my head with no further words beyond the pain of betrayal in my heart and soul.)

I love this man. I pray that his Masterly skills will outdo any of my female idiocy. I pray that his Masterly strength and his love for me will remain strong, pure and unbroken by my eventual fear and hostility in any given situation. I am lesser, you see. I am not as strong. I am full of emotion and fear. He is my pillar of strength, but I cannot fully release all of my fear. All around me I see those male pillars of strength walking away for another woman, leaving the current female to agony and dust. I cannot take another betrayal. Neither can I live with fear in my heart.

Just the other day, I read that it is wrong to not trust in a relationship, that is akin to a sin and evil. That it is purely choice to not trust and to not forgive. That it is purely choice to hold onto trust issues from the past when in a new relationship. Well fuck me. I guess I'm a sinful evil bitch then, because I truly cannot figure out how to trust with all these ghosts in my head.

Do you not find it odd that we are supposed to learn from our past, but we are not supposed to be ruled by it? How can one learn, learning the feeling of betrayal, and then learn to not worry when a new situation presents itself with the same potential end? Of course we worry! That is what makes us human! I am told that I should not worry. Well I'm sorry, but I do. I'm told I should not feel fear. Well, I'm sorry, but the past and the lessons learned were learned well and with a lot of pain and I cannot seem to move back into the zone of full trust. How CAN one move into a zone of full trust after having learned lessons of betrayal? It is like moving backwards. It is like asking one to have white cloth after adding red dye. Only bleach can scour the cloth white, and even then it eats at the fabric, the strength of the fabric is forever compromised.

Trust is broken, not rebuildable into the same thing, much like a broken cup. You can glue it together, but it is not the same. I fail to see why this should only apply to one relationship, but not all of them. Do we not learn?? Are our reactions any less plausible for our learning because it is a new relationship?

"A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions." - Oliver Wendell Holmes

So I sit here, closer to the day my Master will be here. I feel anxious. Terribly anxious. I SO look forward to his coming. I worry that we will fall into a regular pattern and things will be lost. I cannot, oh I cannot have that happen. It is like him telling me, "Don't stop touching me." Well I cannot lose the precious closeness between us. I cannot be relegated to a secondary thing, else I question everything and then I begin to hide myself.

I worry about making these posts. These posts show into my mind, show my fears and my worries. Many times, Master addresses them immediately. I ask you, Master, please not today. I am fragile today. I believe I will refill my Xanax. I feel a tremendous amount of pressure and it is from so many things happening at once.

Yet what happens if I cannot tell him face-to-face how I feel. I cannot let it build like I did before. Oh I did, but I didn't. I told them all, but they did not listen. It had to be the way I was telling them. HAD TO BE. It cannot be that four males in a row refused to hear me, refused to take me seriously. It just can't be... people aren't that harmful. It HAS to be something I'm doing.

WHAT IS IT?!?!?!?! How do I not do it now?????

OK that's enough circles. I have to stop today. It is clear that I am fractured in all of my thinking today.

I love you, Maître. Please be gentle with me today. I am already on the verge of tears.

Closure

It is odd how things go. It's strange how quickly things can change. I have never been good at letting things go that hurt me in the past, nor have I been good at forgiving and forgetting. I am not bitchy to these people who hurt me unless they pull attitude with me, but I keep in the forefront of my mind what they did and whether or not they are trustworthy.

Trustworthy... well I have to say I have met very few who are 100% trustworthy. I don't even trust myself that much! There are different levels of trust, and different areas of trust. For example, my pedophile uncle is excellent at fixing cars, dishwashers, air conditioners, electric lines... would I trust him to fix those things? Yes. Would I trust him with a girl child? Oh hell no.  My first ex-husband is a wonderful humanitarian out doing things in the world for the poor. Would I trust him with my friendship? Oh hell no. My second husband is a hard worker with an absolutely hilarious sense of humor. Would I trust him enough to relax my vigiliance regarding his time with our son? Oh hell no. And so it goes.

I can live side-by-side with these people and keep up my guard forever. Not a problem, did it my whole life. In this way, forgiving and forgetting would be a hindrance as I would then relax my guard and trust where I should not.

So what to do when a person finally acknowledges they did something stupid and hurt me?

In a few moments, 30 minutes to be exact, a conversation was held today regarding something stupid a person did that hurt me. I've been tentative friends with her for a while now, but haven't trusted her with my full friendship. I will probably still be very careful around her, but the apology sure helped. First, she acknowledged that she had been each of three different types of people in my life: one who helped during my difficult times, one who walked away when I needed help during difficult times, and one who put me into difficult times. She apologized for being a dumbass. At that moment, I realized that she isn't the type of person who would deliberately hurt another and that she probably had some things going on in her own life at those times and she could not handle any more. At the very end, she apologized for hurting me. I thanked her. This is the first we've spoken of this issue.

Part of me feels as if the world got a little brighter and more beautiful. Part of me is quiet and not sure what to think. Part of me has its guard up, the watchful one, always watching and guarding me, like a big tigress.

I've been waiting for this, unwilling to bring it up, knowing that with people you must wait for them to be ready and there is no forcing them into anything at all. If you try to force, then anything you get will not be genuine. If you wait, they will open up like a little flower and if you shine your light upon them instead of giving them a bloody sword, then they will open up the rest of the way.

Most of the time, the way of the sword is too easy. I never took the easy road a day in my life. I don't intend to start now.

What to do with this apology of hers... processing....

50 Shades of WHAT???

Look, I haven't read this book. I'm probably not going to read this book. There. I admitted it. It's not that the book wouldn't turn me on, I bet it would. But this isn't a critique of a book... it's a critique of the reactions generated...

A little history...
I didn't know a damn thing about the bondage world until three things happened. First off, I saw a little magazine advertising bondage supplies, you know, handcuffs, spreader bars and the like. Second, I read, "The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty," written by Anne Rice under the pseudonym of A. N. Roquelaure, and I discovered that I wasn't fucked up, I wasn't alone in this, there are others with such desires. Finally, I found my Master under terms that were strictly gaming partners followed by vanilla, and in a moment of jealousy I asked, "Just who is this EmeraldWolf?" Naturally, he explained that he had Dommed her for a bit. I had three reactions to that, by the way: Extreme jealousy, intense curiosity and the birthing of excitement.

Had I not found those books, which are wildly unrealistic in terms of real life D/s and M/s relationships, I would not have had a CLUE what he meant and I may not have questioned further. You see, my first husband caught me looking at that little magazine with my morbid fascination of those bondage devices, ripped it out of my hands and told me I didn't need that and that's not something I needed to be looking at. I felt shame and guilt. In a moment, my interest and related desire became a dark secret that burned within my skeleton-filled closet of wanton shame. It is rare for me to talk about sex, rarer still for me to open up about such desires as I have. One does not comprehend that one might find another individual who holds similar interests in the sexual deviancy field... one only hopes that one can keep such desires secret and not act upon them.

Suffice it to say that I grew up in a close-minded, close-mouthed world when it came to sexuality, let alone anything resembling BDSM. Though the Sleeping Beauty trilogy held impossible things within its lusty pages, it opened my mind up to possibilities previously unknown to me, and let me grasp my darkest desires firmly in both hands. I am a willful girl, a rebel, always fighting, always fighting... I will only ever submit to one man, my Master, Marc. I will never submit to another and never have previously. I will hold onto my dreams one way or another, and should they burn, they will rise from the ashes like a phoenix as my dreams tend to do.

I wouldn't have had those dreams without the knowledge and imagination in those pages, ohhhh Anne Rice writes so provocatively! Did I REALLY think that it was a good idea for someone to hang me up, paint honey on my twat, then let flies crawl all over it? Hell no! But what an image!

I imagine there was a furor over the Sleeping Beauty series, oh so long ago when it came out. There have been a few sarcastic references it over the years in TSR and Fetlife. BDSM folk hate those books, stating that it creates an unrealistic idea in the minds of would-be subs and Doms both, and that just causes problems in the BDSM world. But they forget, we were all so naive at one time. None of us were born with the knowledge of how to go about creating and participating in BDSM. We were taught, every single one of us. Not only were we taught, but we read, we watched, and still we each felt along, felt through our own way until we found what we each want for ourselves in such an arrangement. I, for one, could not possibly adhere to a life of a 24/7 slave who only serves in physical chores, never leaves the house, and has no sexual contact. I could not, I would not. But I know of those who do, some of whom have been doing that for decades and are perfectly happy with the arrangement. What about kajirae who believe in their hearts that men are dominant in every way, including intelligence, and to be served by women, no matter what man stands before them? Who am I to tell those folks that my way is the only right way? Well that's because it's not, see... it's only right for me. Just as their way is right for them and not for me.

So I see all of this bitching and complaining about 50 Shades of Grey now. I have some curiosity in reading it, but probably won't due to the hype. I have my own relationship and I don't need any more questions or distractions at this time. Maybe later. But complaining about it as if it's a handbook written by the devil himself? I don't see what all the fuss is about, truly!

50 Shades of Grey has opened up a new field for many women and men who were previously blind to the world of bondage. Not many will pick up a book on Gor these days, they're too hard to find. Not many will pick up an old Anne Rice book when all they think of is vampires when they see her name. Even if it is A.N. Roquelaure as the author, they now mention that it is a pseudonym for Anne Rice. With the latest flurry of sexual and intimate books with vampire, wereanimal and other paranormal characters, who's gonna go find an old Anne Rice book? Nope. 50 Shades of Grey it had to be. And what a smashing success! So many new people on the scene who are making it into fetlife and learning! They are learning they are not alone! They are learning that yes! There are even CLASSES about how to tie people up! They are (hopefully) learning safety! They are learning that there are rules. They are learning that there is no ONE RIGHT WAY to do this, that their own desires dictate the relationship and rules within their new path.

I had to remind myself the other day of this... that there is no "one right way." I have a friend who is a Domme, and she was complaining on FB about a male telling her that it's not all about her. She retaliated by telling him that yes, SHE is the Domme and it IS all about her. Well, that's not what I learned, but I've seen enough to know that yes, there are dominants out there who could give a shit less about what the sub wants, only wanting to use and abuse... and there are subs who want that too. Who am I to tell her that's wrong? She IS inexperienced, and she will find that if she limits herself, it is more difficult to find a play partner, let alone a lifetime commitment. But I digress.

The point is, I see the BDSM community split on this 50 Shades issue; some of them love the books and some of them hate the books. The ones who love them love the ideas within them and love how the book makes them feel. The ones who hate the books say that they are misleading and probably causing all sorts of danger and damage to women out in the world. Possibly. But so is the Bible. *arched brow* Think of entire tribes of men, women AND children laid to waste over an idea that there is only one right way.

Without launching into a religious rhetoric, I shall simply say this. 50 Shades of Grey is an eye opener for those who wish to open their eyes and learn more. It is a relief for those who have their closets full of skeletons and demons to learn that they really aren't bad or evil, and there are other people out there like them.

For those of you who don't like the book, do not read it. If you feel it promotes bad things, then stop bitching, get out there and TEACH so people can learn.

For those of you who love the book, welcome! Learn well, go to Fetlife read as much as you can! Take a Shibari class! Find out what a munch is, find one and go to it! There is a lot of information out there! Welcome home!

Skin Geography

Fingertips, the eyes of my pain, the readers of my skin. Skin, the geography of my soul, the pain etched there with distraction of the moment. Would that I could have tattooed it all...

I pick. I pick my scabs. Off. I don't eat them. I don't know why. It soothes me when I am upset. It slows and stops me when my mind is on overdrive and goes a million miles an hour. It calms me when I feel overwhelmed. It distracts me when the reality of the world becomes all too real for me and I am saddened. It stops me from daydreaming. One conflict is enough to drive me to ruining every ounce of healing my body has poured forth from within. Threat of any possible conflict is enough to drive me to the same.

I used to have better control over this. I had a few spots on my derriere because I'd get a little zit here and there from sitting at my job all day. Once in a while, or once a month, I might get one on my forehead or a shoulder. I could get into a bathing suit and go swimming without a second thought. Not today. Not now.

The geography of my skin has sucked all of my focus to it now. My fingertips, so sensitive, every centimetre of smooth skin measured, weighed, found lacking. Smooth becomes a mountain. Oh no! A bump! Get it off get it off get it off! There is pain sometimes, yes. Infection sometimes, yes. I am too ashamed to go have a doctor look at it more than the single time I let one see.

Fingertips find a rough spot or a bump, it feels like Mount Olympus! Get it off! Razor edge fingernails dig at the edge, lifting slightly, sliding under and pulling more. There is tearing, a brief flash of burning sensation as the new unhealed raw skin is uncovered yet again. Beloved smoothness and a feeling of relief so great I could weep. Blood flows, nobody notices it with my black pants. I always wear black pants. I don't wear white shirts anymore either. Dark colored apparel is the ticket for me now that I am engaging in a daily flow of flesh and blood. 

Bloody bits down the sink drain. Parts of me thrown away like so much trash. Little tidbits down the toilet along with the waste. I wonder if the carpet bugs have enough to eat these days?

Why. Why? I don't know. I only know that it must stop as I am a ruin of flesh.

I cannot stop. Help me.

This day, this life; imagination, contemplation!

I am changing, ever changing. My inner self is a constant dialogue, but my energetic being flows with the energy of the earth; it ebbs and flows with the seasons. I am never more alive than in the autumn. Mabon is now, the 20th through the 22nd of September in this, the northern hemisphere.

A.D. 2012. Hmm. I will never say "in the year of our lord" because I am not a Christian and never will be. A battle still rages within me, but it is not over the existence of deities. There are no gods nor goddesses, and yet I feel that energy of the earth. What IS that? Science has not answered all questions. If all questions were answered, science would cease to exist. There are things we still simply do not know.

So what is this that I feel? Is it real or imagined? What of this ebbing, flowing energy? I cannot see nor show it to anyone, therefore I cannot prove its existence. This, of course, has nothing to do with atheism - that concerns only lack of belief in gods/goddesses. THIS is something else.  It is as if I feel the energy of the earth, or of something.   ????????    Could I possibly prove what I feel is a real thing? There are many things we know are there but we cannot see them: We can prove there is electricity flowing through wires within our houses, we can prove that the earth rotates and wobbles upon its path around the sun, we can prove that there is oxygen in the air we breathe... even though we cannot see these things with our own eyes. What is this and why do I feel it?

Another question, why do people "feel" things as a group? There are hordes of people out there claiming to feel certain things at the same time as others in a particular group. This is not a physical thing! If a building full of people burns and fire touches everyone within, they would all feel the burning and pain. But we can see that; we have proof that they all felt the same thing at the same time. What I mean is, why do people claim to all feel the same thing that cannot be seen? People claim to feel energy from prayer rise to a god, but we know prayer does not work and we know there is no god. Would these claims be a form of collective idiocy or insanity? Is it a desire to have something, a desire so overpowering that a group of people will sacrifice their common sense and join in a group belief; not REALLY feeling anything at all, just imagining it or lying flat out? Or does collective group feelings without visual proof of something truly exist?

My mind stops for a moment in the reverie of questions and wondering. My mind returns to being present. A funny thought inserts here, grounding me briefly in the here and now: As I have these conversations with myself in my brain, I am doing daily things; driving, working, cooking, doing laundry, etc. While most of the time my mind converses happily with itself, considering very strange things, always I return to the present to "check in" and see what is happening in the here and now. After checking everything in the here and now with a nearly pure focus, I slip back into the conversation. Sometimes the conversation shifts... fluid like a river. I am fluid and ever-changing, after all.

Aren't we all?

Perhaps everyone is not fluid and ever-changing! It cannot be that I am alone, statistically that would be impossible, egotistical, and ridiculous. Do other people ever wonder such things? Do other people wonder just how many other people are out there thinking about this same stuff? It would be interesting to have knowledge of the percentage of the whole population thoughts on any subject at any time. This current thing about which I am thinking: How many people think of this subject that currently inhabits my mind? How many people think they are fluid and ever-changing, or how many think they are stable in a fixed position? There is no possible normality here. Wait. Normal? That word cannot apply here!

"Normal" cannot realistically represent any facet of humanity, not even a range of averages. Range fluctuates depending on any given situation. For example: if you measure height of people in a country with sub-standard food, the average range consists of shorter, smaller people. Give the people better food and the average range shifts upwards to taller people. A potential normality: It is normal that snowy owls are more white than any other color; it would be abnormal for a snowy owl to be reddish brown. There is no reason to assume that "normal" applies within the mental range of humanity either. Humans change situations with simple thought. Our powerful, thinking minds shift  the variance of an average range easily. Example: A theist believes himself to be fluid and ever-changing in thought. The theist becomes an atheist and many things change in that person's situation that cannot be seen with the naked eye. Would that person who may have considered themselves to be fluid and ever-changing before now consider their time spent in the belief of god to be stable and fixed, perhaps stagnant? Or would they still feel that the time spent believing in god was with a fluid, ever-changing mind and that they still have such a fluid ever-changing mind? Would they feel that they had become stable and fixed as an atheist? It is a personal feeling and there is no normality that can be applied to personal feeling. In this way, psychology has tried to label and "affix" everything into a stable, fixed position for the sake of "normality."

During this time of writing, I have processed a bill, processed a payment, given the wrong key to someone, chased after them and given them another set of keys that have the proper key and come back in laughing. Those things are in the here and now. My mind did shift to be grounded while I did those things, it had to. But as soon as I am relieved of here and now, my mind begins to contemplate. Is this imagination? No. It is pure inner contemplation.

But you know? When I want silence in my mind, it is there immediately (unless I am stressed.) Rarely do I have to fight for silence. Most of the time, silence is instant if I desire it, then I am grounded in the here and now, hearing all that happens around me, feeling the air & temperature on my skin, all five senses activated completely. I do not have to scream at my own mind for silence.
Do you?

Autumn

It is no secret that autumn is my favorite time of the year. Well, I think everyone knew except me. This past two years with Master has given me time for deep introspection and I have finally noticed that at the advent of autumn, my energy spikes, suddenly I have the urge to go out and explore, I feel jubilant and full of restless energy daily. There is a sparkle in my eye and a hop in my step, and I feel full of mischief. In short, if you've seen a young colt out in a field before a storm kicking up his heels and running about, that embodies how I feel when autumn begins.

I'm not sure what it could possibly be in the air that brings about such a change in me, but it is certainly welcome this year. After a full two years of anguish and interior pain, it is high time that I feel better! I have felt as if I were on autopilot, disengaged from life, disconnected from all positive feelings & emotion, and antisocial towards everyone around me. I don't even remember if I had such feelings last year in the autumn, but I think that's when I took my son out hiking. 

This year I am considering a zombie run. Yes, you heard me correctly. I haven't brought this up with Master yet, and I haven't discussed the idea with my son yet, but I think we would have a lot of fun if we joined the 1 mile zombie walk this year. I had not heard of it before, but I've yearned to be part of such a thing and this one benefits cancer research so it would be good for not just us, but for society. Imagine! My son and I dressed in full zombie costume and makeup, dragging ourselves with moans and groans and a whole host of other zombies to a finish line! It isn't the point to finish first... it is a point to just walk in costume with others! The benefit to others is icing on the cake!

You see, my son told me that at 13, he is having nothing to do with Trick-or-Treating this year. He's "too old." *eye roll* After my eye roll, I must acquiesce and I think to myself, "Okay, so what do teenagers do for Halloween?" My answer, of course, was that they do nothing but get into trouble and cause trouble. Toilet papering houses is no fun when cleanup is involved. 

I think I shall make a list of things I want to do before I die. One of those things is to participate in a zombie walk. !

Let's see what Master thinks of all of this. Hehe.

As for the rest of the energy, well that walk isn't for a month so I shall have to go up and see the changing colors of the autumn leaves and perhaps hike a bit. That will certainly help!

May autumn blessings be upon you!

The blank mind...

There are two ways one can view writer's block: As a blankness that is frustrating... and as a blank mind, a blank slate, ready for the fruition of whatever ideas appear there. A blank mind, to me, is much like a fertile field. It is ready for plowing, ready for seed to be sown, ready for the tiny tendrils of ideas to begin to appear, grow, flourish and bloom. To me, a blank mind may also represent harvest, when ideas seem to have come to their utmost peak of fruition, then reaped and harvested. There should be a blankness after such a thing. It is a time of quiet, of the return to the natural state of things.

A blank mind... so many people get frustrated by this. It is so sad to see the people struggle to say something, feeling as if they must when perhaps it is merely a rest time for them. Or... maybe they need something to put into the fertile ground of their mind... seeds of thought, if you will.

It is like that for me lately, but today I came across a seed that planted itself immediately and started to grow. I shall show you...
http://alicedownarabbithole.blogspot.com/2008/12/longings.html

First of all, Master and I have been so very busy with our lives, too busy to really sit down and visit. When we are not busy, we are exhausted. The toil it takes to get our lives together in the same place has taken its toll upon us. It is hard work. However, it does not affect our love for one another and for this I am grateful beyond words. I have felt as if there was a distance encroaching on our space because of this exhaustion... a distance where there are no words. Perhaps there do not need to be words. Perhaps it is enough to simply desire.

Master, this is for you and you only. I have felt this distance. Just a few days ago you said I was far... and I was. I was over 20 years in the past, looking at schoolmates from long ago on facebook, wondering what they are doing, what do they look like now, do they have families? I don't know what prompted me to do such a thing. I admit without humility that I did gloat sometimes over the ones who were cruel to me, in that a good many of them look as if they've been run over by a herd of buffalo. Highschool was not a good time for me and I do not know, cannot possibly fathom, why I wasted time that day looking through all of those pictures and lives. I DID come to a new understanding, however. I realized just how many of them were religious. I realized just how many of them had always been religious. I realized the dichotomy of my life, that I had to do my time in school, just as any other child... but that I had never fit in because of the lack of religion in my life. I have no desire for religion, this you know. It is a paltry horrible thing, dividing people. So as I looked upon my tormentors of 10 or more years of my life, I realized that they were driven to do as they did because of their beliefs... and that it had nothing to do with me.

I realized something VERY important. My whole life I've been talked down to, looked down upon, by these religious zealots... and I have not taken that personally. Suddenly, I was able to look at those people who had tormented me in highschool... and suddenly the idea began to form... what they did? It wasn't personal. Slowly I began to understand and begin to move past it all.

You know, it will take time. But I will go through my life experiences (like I do) -- shuffling through them all in my head one at a time... and apply the logic of those religious zealots who don't bother me in the slightest. I am learning one of the greatest lessons of all time: How to not take things personally. I have yearned so very much for this! It is a great pivotal point of healing for me!

That said, I return to the previous programming. There is a distance between us, but it is a distance of necessity, not of love. It is a distance of quiet, that is resolved by soft snores and purrs of "I love you" shared back and forth together. There is no loss of love or feeling between us. It is merely time, stress, current situations that is affecting the amount of our communication. The quantity is less, but the quality is there. The love is definitely there.

Master, it wasn't that I doubted your love for me. It is the regular doubt that perhaps I have messed up yet again... followed by a long process of understanding. Perhaps someday I can stop bugging you every few days, needing the reassurance that you want and love me. Oh I will probably always be needy, never you worry about that. But I would like the peace of knowing without a doubt that I am loved and wanted and will not be replaced. But first, I have to master the art of not taking things personally.

You may ask... why did I put that link up there? Well, because as I started to read it, I realized that their situation is similar with distance. Our dynamic will require more touching when we are within the 24/7 person-to-person aspect, but for now, we are okay with what we have as we visit daily for nearly the whole day. Even with work! I always feel your presence within my life and yet I will require the physical presence to fully grow into the slave I am. I am an unfinished piece of art, waiting for your hands and mind to finish forming me. I have the desire for you, yes, and my god I would like to reduce your daily stress. I would like to serve you more personally, taking care of your needs so that they are not so time consuming for you, not so exhausting. Yes, I would like to serve you much more. Why did I put that link up there again? Because when she wrote all of those things and then told him and he told her his cock was in his hand, I remembered the first time I knelt before you dressed as your girl, in full slave mode... and the thick hard cock you showed me when you saw me show my submission and love to you.

Ohhhh how I miss you, Sir. Soon now... very soon!

With all my love, my heart, my body, my mind, my soul... i serve You.

Time Flies...

The other day, Master commented that I hadn't written in this blog since July 16th. (When I say, "the other day," I mean within the past few days. 5 days. Something like that.) My response to him? I said, "Yeah?" --  I didn't think about it beyond that because I didn't realize until today that it was September already. It felt like only 3 weeks ago was July 16th. Time flies...

September. How did it come to be September already!? It was just May and my son just finished school for the summer! I swear it!

I notice as I get older that time moves far more quickly than it did when I was younger. We all know this "time moving faster" bit to be complete and utter bullshit, but it feels that way. Time goes at the same speed it always does. So what's making it seem different? More importantly, how do we make things slow down again?

I think four things we learn and get better (or worse) at tend to work on our sense of time as we age:

Focus: Adults focus on tasks and life (problem solving on a life scale, like how to fix the air conditioner before the house is 100 degrees inside) better and better as they age. We can focus on what needs doing and not focus on the time it takes. We may groan at the idea of handwashing dishes, but we don't stare at the clock before, during, and after the fact. That's what a teen does. That's what a young adult does. (Once they make themselves DO the dishes, that is... they do the dishes generally after having run completely out of clean ones.) ----------- The positives of focus? Adults can focus on something until it is finished, taking the time, calm and patience to do the job right without having to lose time as they lose focus and have to refocus. The negatives of focus? We tend to lose track of time and lose ourselves in the day-to-day grind of things, not living in the moment and focusing on each moment.

Time management: Adults manage time fairly well. We have the abstract thinking ability to plan ahead much better. As a matter of fact, clinically it has been shown that young adults cannot do this until around age 25. So when your mother said to think about the consequences, she surely didn't understand that you just weren't capable of doing that completely and fully to the best of human capability yet. In other words, as we drive the 20 minutes to work, we are thinking way ahead, "Oh yes, there is road construction at 400 North. Better take the belt route." Suddenly we're at work and we mark that moment in time very briefly, just long enough to get what we need out of the car and go in, then we melt into the workplace needs.  ---------- The positives of Time Management? You can virtually plan out your day and not forget your keys to the house or your phone. The negatives of Time Management? Suddenly it's Tuesday and you don't know where the hell the weekend went.

Acceptance: Do you remember being in school? I don't mean college. I mean elementary through highschool. Remember glancing at the clock every 10 to 30 seconds and feeling as if 5 minutes had passed in 10 seconds? That's because you were bored out of your mind. The droning voice of that Math teacher could put you to sleep, which you so desperately need because you were up until 2 a.m. talking to your best friend, Nancy, or gaming the night away with your XBox buddies. You know something great though, don't you. You know for a fact that you only have to get through graduation and then you can do whateeeeeeeeeeeever you waaaaaaaaaaant. The sad truth? There is no way to explain the working life to a teen. Why would we want to? The explanation would take away your hope! Adults start working... and realize they're in for the long haul... about 40 years of it. We don't have the luxury of knowing that after this 3 month trimester we don't ever have to see that stinking Home Economics teacher ever again! She only teaches the 9th grade! Nope. Adults know that they have a lifetime of servitude to any number of things. The boss. Payments on this, that, or the other. Food. Mate. Children. And if they don't stay in line, their parents bother the crap out of them. What's that? You thought that at age 18 your parents will miraculously stop bothering you about crap? Wrong again bucko! I think enough has been said to explain the positives and negatives. LOL!

Memory: As in, forming memories. As a child, you are busy learning everything. You make so many first memories that every moment is etched in your mind. You remember your bike crash, the feel of the wind in your hair as you ride the bike successfully the first time, how to tape a flashlight to the front of a box being pulled in the dark by a bike and how to strap that box to a skateboard. You remember the sound of your friend's delighted and terrified screams as you pull them behind your bike in the dark. As an adult, you might still remember those things, but your memories of riding a bike now, well... if you ride it's probably daily for either exercise (boring and/or strenous) or to get to work (also boring and you hope you don't sweat unless you work outside already). As an adult, you've formed first memories to a good many things so now they're just... passing twinges of memory that don't hold a candle to the original memory. Of course you just had Christmas. Oh wait, that was 30 years ago. You know you've had Christmas every year since then but can you remember anything really memorable about each one? Probably not. Not unless something really cool happened like Uncle John knocking over the Christmas tree after drowning his anxiety about family gatherings with some Wild Turkey or Old Grandad.

Well, that about covers it. Shit what month is it? Phew! Still September! Same year?!?!?! OMG yes! *sigh of relief*

Don't laugh. Had it happen! Haha!

OK so maybe it's me...

Today was a breakthrough day with my physician. I have been officially labeled. LOL!

Apparently I have a FORM of obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD). Much is left unknown about several of the classifications that fall under this disorder.

I suppose it should have been clear from the start, but so much was not known that I grew up just being me.

• As a child, I didn't just count my steps on each piece of concrete sidewalk to make sure I had the same number of right footsteps as left, I got very upset and felt like something really bad would happen or I'd done something wrong if I went into a building before I had the same number of each (even if it meant hopping on one foot).
• I wash my hands more than anyone I know. When I was younger and I played piano I had to first wash and dry both my hands and the keys, then do it again between every song. It took me hours to practice, not because I wanted to practice, but because half of that time was spent washing my hands, drying my hands (they cannot be sticky dry) and the keys on the piano. I've transferred that to keeping a bottle of rubbing alcohol and cotton pads in the computer room and at work to clean my computer mouse and keys every few hours or so. I have to get up and wash my hands, clean the keyboard and mouse, then wash my hands again. I spend approximately 2-3 hours daily washing my hands. 
• Mucous secretions such as spit or nasal secretions make me shudder in absolute revulsion and want to run from the room, generally I do so and... yup, you got it. I wash my hands. Over and over. I can be cleaning up something like that and have to wash my hands in the middle of it before I'm done.
•  Dermatillomania - also known as skin picking disorder - has plagued me my whole life. When I touch my skin, if I find a bump or a rough spot, the vast landscape of smoothness is interrupted with mountainous proportions and it HAS TO BE OFF MY BODY. I HAVE to get it off of my body. Now. If I try not to, I start to shake and panic, then my hands cramp. I can spend hours removing every foreign bump, especially scabs, from my body. The edges have to be perfectly smooth and I'll tug and pull with fingertips, needles or tweezers until I get the edges smooth, even if that means removing healthy skin at the edge of an open sore. When I get stressed, I feel as if there are things crawling on and under my skin, sometimes poking me, biting me, tingling... and I must scratch. When I pick and scratch, the result is euphoric, and an audible, "Thank you..." will often be heard falling from my lips as the relief washes over me. I don't wear shorts anywhere, I don't go swimming. I don't even sunbathe in my own backyard... the neighbors might see my scars and sores. A full acre away on every side and I worry about that. Ha! I am to the point that I pick even when at work. Where I used to smoke while driving, I pick instead. If I'm on a computer at home, chances are I'm scratching somewhere unless both hands are busy with keyboard and mouse. I wake up in the morning with bloody spots on my sheets. I find that I pick with no conscious thought sometimes and don't notice until the blood is already flowing. I spend approximately 5 hours a day picking my skin.
• Sir has pretty much stopped my NEED to weigh myself several times a day by having my son first hide the scale, then move the scale to my son's bathroom when I had better control. When that ruled my life, I was on it at least an hour a day.
• Lining things up at a store. My mother used to tease me mercilessly when I went through a department store and lined up the products and made sure hangers were all hanging the same way and evenly. I can't just leave them that way. It drives me batshit to walk away knowing ONE book was half an inch out of line with the others on the row, or a hanger end poked up slightly. This, of course, brings me to the insanity that is my house, as I no longer have the energy to pick up or clean up. The little things are perfect though... the canned good lined up on the shelves exactly. The boxed foods lined up evenly as are the books on the bookshelves.
• Impossibly high standards nearing perfectionism that I hold myself to, but no one else. Of course no one else can meet those standards. They are MY standards. I am responsible for them. I created them. I can and will live up to them. Right. Let's go through that again. Later. After Master tells me that it is impossible to do such a thing and my therapist tells me yet again that I must be gentle with myself. (How???!!) I often must remind myself that I am human, just like the other people that don't have to reach my impossible standards.
• Social anxiety which may or may not be related to previous molestation, but I rather doubt that the fear of going into a gym where other people might look at me was based on molestation. It was more based on, "OMG I can't go in there, people will see me and know I don't belong there!"
• Seeking constant reassurance. Master gives me that. The point is, I do just fine. I've been fine for my whole life. I've made good decisions. I'm making good decisions right now. At least this is what I'm told by my therapist. One can never be sure. I'd rather ask and be sure, even if it is every few minutes on my bad days. He's incredibly patient, my Master...
• You should see my going to bed ritual. Nevermind, only Master gets to see that. It is essential for my ability to fall asleep that I miss no part of this ritual else I lay there completely awake, fidgeting.
• My clothing in the closet is in a certain order and always will be. Tops, bottoms - each organized by type, color, length -- however it makes the best sense. Fortunately I buy several of the same pair of pants in the same color so I don't have to worry about pants organization much.
• I wonder just how much list making is considered to be "excessive." I have 4 at home, 3 in my purse, and 10 here at work. *face palm* Color coded... so that I know which one I should focus upon should my brain decide to go on vacation without me.
• Have you ever felt that you simply MUST count between passing milemarkers on a highway? I don't have as much trouble with that if I'm driving, but so help me, if I'm the passenger, there are only so many times one can get from 1 to 40 (depending on the speed of course)... or are there? I never tire of counting.  I figured everyone did it. When I found out they didn't? I started counting trees. Or houses. Or houses with trees. Or houses without trees. Pick one. Pick all of them. Sometimes I do as many different counts as I can just because...
• I'm currently experiencing a new thing. Recently I decided to go completely organic and non-GMO in everything. Food, shampoo, soap, toothpaste... these are just a start. As I progressed, thinking of new ways to improve my life with healthy behavior, this morning I felt the distinct urge to throw away my clothing, my towels, my furniture... all because it may be "contaminated" with some chemical that might cause physical harm or some health problem. This is just another symptom, according to my doctor. She says that a little non-organic food would be fine, which makes my system scream, "NO! I might get cancer!" and the idea of throwing away perfectly good clothing and going in a search for organic, non-GMO clothing is ludicrous. It sure would be expensive. And what about my car...

Today I can look at my behaviors and I feel relief in knowing what's up, but I also feel tremendous sadness that I've lived my life with some of these behaviors and they have affected me so much. I really don't know what "normal" is any more than any other person on the planet. We are all, to some extent, screwed up. It may be our past, genetic, chemically induced... who knows. I can tell you I've picked my own skin my whole life and even when I was skinny I felt I was the elephant in the room full of gazelles.

I have been diagnosed with depression and anxiety. The jury is still out on manic-depression and ADD. During my last visit with the physician, I told her about my skin picking, but she didn't know the extent until today when I showed her everything. I will be on an antibiotic for the lesions and abscesses. It is good to know that it could be much, much worse... but in the end it really doesn't help me stop, does it.

Apparently I'm a mess but I'm surviving. The doctor congratulated me on having done so well for so long and i agree that I've done well. I have to say there are some really excellent things I've managed to do through all of this: I've quit drinking alcohol completely, quit smoking, quit caffeine, quit driving like a speed demon and go the speed limit, shifted to organic and non-GMO foods, increased my water intake from practically nil to 60+ ounces daily, started daily vitamins and minerals, and the next thing I'm going to hit is daily exercise with meditation. Hopefully some yoga will help my flexibility remain intact - somehow I still have that. LOL!

Focusing on the positive. Not sure what to think of today's diagnosis... business as usual. What's the difference in a day-to-day living when only the words give it a meaning to the why of it all? Not a dang thing!

Work to do...

The Lunacy Continues... or... what am I learning here?

The last two weeks in review for this girl:

• Lost a friend when this girl stood up for said friend as well as for herself.
• Gained said "friend" back on a limited basis with severe boundaries. This girl hasn't specified boundaries yet, but if that one wishes to be my friend, then that one will learn to accept this girl in full.
• Family pedophile finally reported. Report considered null and void by the police because the member reporting lied about other things. The pedophile goes free. Nightmares for this girl for several nights along with flashbacks at the most inopportune of times.
• The truth came out regarding the family's decision regarding said pedophile when this girl was but a teen. The truth is ugly and painful. The family decided to "look the other way" so that the wife of said pedophile would not have problems. Thus this girl's long time suspicion has been confirmed: The needs of the adults were far more important than the well-being or health of any girl child. This girl is sickened and feels terribly betrayed. 
• This girl "broke" Sunday night when her communication machine between her and her Master malfunctioned, taking two hours and finally resetting the whole thing and starting from scratch.
• A letter arrived stating that this girl may not get her Master if other paperwork is not turned in on time, and the clock has been ticking on the time limit for over a week already.
• Massive amounts of paperwork suddenly moved so that everything Master needs is in order and sent.
• Major work projects this week and an issue with a persistent customer who refuses to acknowledge that this girl is Owned and Loved and quite married!
• Therapy today during which this girl was given the suggestion to stand up to her boss for not protecting her from this customer while giving her limits that do not allow her to control and stop said customer's advances on this girl. This girl is also to stand up to her boss because of unrealistic expectations regarding being her coworker's keeper. The therapist does not realize how difficult it is for this girl to stand up to an authority figure, let alone someone in control of her financial situation.

What am I learning from all of this?

Patience.
Fortitude.
Survival.
Inner strength.
Trust Master & Master's ideas that are not even biddings.
Learn to put limits on other people who violate this girl's space or somehow invade her privacy.

I bow my head as I speak the following, my body in full submission.
"Master's will be done."

There is only one god in my life, and He is my Master.

Crazy Happenings.

Been a busy time for me since my nervous breakdown in April.

Financials are kicking my butt. After having to pull $5K out for taxes last year and putting a new roof on the other house for $5300 and the old roofing not being hauled off, you would think that would be enough for the year, but no. I've had the air conditioner fixed twice, finally ending up with a new motor and the whole bit cost me over $500 when it was all said and done. Last night it started making stupid noise again. My car tires are going to be over $1200 and that's the price of last month with tire prices rising and doesn't include installation. I couldn't pay my auto and house insurance for the year, ending up paying for a month. I still have hospital bills monthly due to my bi-monthly therapy. I'm almost out of my GERD medication, meaning another trip to the doctor for a written prescription to be mailed to Canada for a year's worth of medication for around $300 (for the year, as opposed to $300 for a month here) and the idea of buying the only inhaler that works for me at $240 per month is just laughable. With all the things like roof, hospital and air conditioner, I haven't even begun to pay my property taxes. I've not the slightest clue how to afford the fees or travel costs to get my master and his things here and I hope he has money set away but considering his situation, he likely does not have very much.

On top of this, I missed a week of work because my cousin came to stay for a week at the beginning of June, extended her stay to two weeks, and her father doesn't quite grasp the idea of working at a job that doesn't have paid sick leave or paid vacation time. We had fun, but it cost me more money when I would have rather been working and making money than spending any. It was a most excellent visit and when she left it felt like a hole opened up underneath me, midsummer hit and I realized the days will get shorter now and I felt despair. My depression kicked in full force despite my medication and last night I broke again.

Then there's my current medical situation. Yes. Nervous breakdown. First week of April on a Thursday. I started therapy and my therapist insisted I see my regular doctor as soon as possible. I couldn't get in until the next Monday and she put me on an antidepressant and a anti-anxiety pill. My doctor says I'm depressed with severe anxiety. She says I've borderline personality disorder, possibly manic-depressive, with possible obsessive-compulsive disorder manifesting as dermatillomania aka skin picking disorder. I didn't mention that I wash my hands at least 30-50 times a day. Nor did I mention that if I chew a certain number of times on one side of my mouth I must chew that many on the other. Same with walking, 2.5 steps per sidewalk slab, that's 1.5 left foot prints and 1 right, starting the next one with 1.5 left footprints and 1 right, I have to even it out so that I have the same number of left and right footsteps on the sidewalk. I'm not so bad with that anymore... just when I'm alone. I should mention that during the car show my anxiety has allowed me to leave before walking up and down every single row, whether or not I see all of the cars. I thought I was crazy or going crazy.

Finally, July brought some more pressure, enough that last night I broke again. It isn't a lot, but the things are major. At the beginning of the month, I lost a two year friendship because I'm so slightly cracked that I cannot seem to keep my opinions to myself on facebook. Once she got done trying to figure out what to do, she continued the friendship on a limited basis by creating a facebook that "keeps certain people out of her personal life." Earlier this month I chose to break connections with some friends and family because of both monetary issues (I loaned money out, will never see it back apparently.) Then last week my cousin put in a police report on a pedophile in our family that the family has chosen to cover up and ignore since molesting me when I was very young. Harsh words were exchanged between my aunt and I regarding her husband's pedophilia and when I learned my cousin has been banned from the aunt's house, I realized that I have probably (hopefully) also been banned. For the remainder of the week and all weekend I had flashbacks on my molestation experiences, and for several nights I've had the strangest nightmares. I've been beaten, drowned, and burned in my dreams. Spending more time awake or in a semi-awake state means little sleep as well. I wake up in the morning feeling tired, knowing the nightmares aren't real, but the physical toll on my body for lack of good sleep is beginning to show again.

So I broke last night. The itching went on for a few hours before the anxiety kicked in. I spent time ignoring both until it was impossible to ignore and then I sat on my bed trying to get in the shower. I realized the skype unit wasn't functioning properly and spent a tear-filled hour trying to get it online, hoping desperately not to awaken my master, but He awakened anyway. He lost precious sleep, I lost sleep and fell to pieces crying and panicking. I sure wish that would stop. I fear that with the shortening of days and the length of time that this immigration process is taking, my antidepressant dosage may have to be raised to a higher milligram level.

This morning my immigration attorney contacted me to tell me that the petition had expired. Fortunately, it shouldn't be difficult to reinstate. Hopefully, this means the countdown to having Master join me in the United States has begun.

On a final note, I must add that Master made a statement not long ago that bothered me and continues to bother me: He said that I have a time limit, referring back to the day I had the nervous breakdown in April and told him I couldn't do this anymore on a text. Of course the attempt at a breakup did not work as it was certainly not what either of us wanted but He came to the conclusion that I have a time limit on what I am capable of handling. I am not angry about his, but filled with fear that He believes his girl will fail Him. If He doesn't believe in me, how can I possibly believe in myself?

Surrender

"How did you know the person you serve was the one you could surrender to?"

Interest: From day one he was interested in everything about me. He paid attention to little details, tiny things missed by everyone else but me. He even noticed things that I didn't and I'm pretty sensitive about details.

Love: We didn't mean to fall in love. We weren't looking for a partner. He had been free for a while and had just come out of a time of intense self-examination and healing. I was in a dead relationship and the end was occurring. Love came as a surprise, a delight, a fear, a shock and with a sense of awe and wonder as I realized I finally found my life-mate.

Consistent: Always the same "good night," not missing a word or a night. Always the same "good morning," not missing a word or a morning. There are several sentences to each and he never misses a single word or a single day. Talk about consistent! I kept waiting for him to stop doing it, for me to gradually to fade to the background and become less important to him as he got comfortable (like all the others did.) I figured eventually he'd take me for granted, thinking I would always be here. But no. He is consistent in everything he does.

Patience. From the beginning he was supremely patient with me and all my little quirks, never losing his temper or blowing me off or telling me that I was somehow a lesser being for emotions or being a woman. It is not a statement of equality, oh no. It is a statement that those things mean something to him, that they are important things to him too. He does not yell at me, call me names, demean me or lose his temper. If he is at the point he needs to cool off, he tells me he loves me and takes a walk. But he ALWAYS comes back and we fix whatever it is.

Guidance: He takes it upon himself to then help fix those things that cause me problems, whether they are inner being issues or outside of myself. He guides me so that I may fix them.

Abandonment. There isn't any. Ever. He will never leave me. He will never replace me with another woman, a car or motorcycle, the television, alcohol or drugs, or anything else. I am the most important possession he has, and he makes me feel incredibly special. This is HUGE.

Trust. Now this one is on me. The man has never done one thing to make me distrust him. Not one thing. My trust issues stem from a lifetime of betrayals from people I was supposed to be able to trust. It will take me time and probably his actual physical presence in my life to get there. I know it will come. It is the last hurdle and I am the one who must leap it. I will get there! This is one man who will not betray me. He will never replace me with anything else. I am a prized possession and I love being his belonging, his favorite toy, his lover, his wife, his friend, his slave.

Je t'adore, Maître!