Posts tagged ‘acceptance’


I suppose its time for me to move on. Maybe I too should accept the closure I have given her. Maybe I too should close the chapter in the book that is my life with their name on it. 

I suddenly struck me. I may never be in his home again.  Then again I’m not sure it matters, the room I have such vivid memories of him in has been redone. It’s still a shock when I walk into it. If I move on now that is much less that will be written over of him. I can still see him in the room, the dark green walls behind him. The last time I saw him was in that room…well, actually it was on his front stoop as he saw me out. But the three of us had been hanging out in that hunter green room that they both hated so much. I can remember his going to put his arm around her. She subtly shifted away from his touch. Just as she always did.
Maybe it’s time for me to take my memories and run.
I feel no guilt, no regret. When he turned his twinkling blue eyes upon me that first time I was a dried up husk of a woman, done with birthing, child rearing and all those things women are good for, forgotten by her husband. He shone upon me (how did he make those eye twinkle on command!?) and I came alive. He touched me and my blood flowed once again. He gave me permission to be me and showed me that I was lovable for who I am… not for what I try to make myself into for others. No it was far from a perfect relationship. We were probably toxic in the long run. I was never secure, for I don’t know what reason. We bickered constantly. But we did fill each other with life again. 
He once wrote me: 
what did I do before we met?  with whom did I share all this energy
all this passion…all this heat?

truth is…noone,  it stood dormant hibernating until it felt the
warming rays of your smile, the light within you made this happen.

I simply can’t imagine going back to that time….

I could have written this for I felt the same. So perhaps it is time for me to take my memories, our memories, stash them away and close that chapter.
If only I could put to rest the fear of loosing those memories. She talks about him and he is alive, she shared bits and pieces of her memories with me and it only served to reinforce mine.  Her love for him, kept my love for him company, even if she never knew it. 


This happens often to me. Behind turmoil, self examination and worry often comes quiet contentment. That is where I am now. 

It’s as if after having stirred the pot or having looked under every rock (you choose) and having found all to be in order, I relax into it.

I am at peace today. I’m quiet and at ease.

Pouring In

Our floodgates have opened.


I’ve been looking for a way to express this for a bit now and that is probably the most expressive wording I can find. I search for the detail and the way to convey the how and why… and I lose the impact of this very simple fact.


Our floodgates have opened…and in it rushes; the intensity, the emotion, the need to dig for my submission to him.


How very lovely. How very difficult. How very scary. 


I have been remiss in keeping up with any sort of posts. Though, I do wonder if it really matters in the grand scheme of things.  

I’ve been cleared for treatments.

We were waiting for my genetics recurrence score to come back. This score would have indicated whether or not I would want to consider. The resulting score came back low as expected. Not as low as I would like mind you. My chance or recurrence is 10% in 10 years. That is still a fair bit more than I would like. Look around you next time you are in a group of people. Isolate 10… 1 in 10 would have a recurrence.  

So… I need to go fill my Tamoxifen prescription and I start radiation not next week but the week after.  I’m struggling with the Tamoxifen which will throw me into a chemically induced menopause. I’m resenting the hell out of having my youth stripped from me.  I resenting having my skins elasticity stolen. I don’t want to get thick around the middle. I don’t want to become matronly. I’m hating this. 

But I need to remember it’s a small price to pay for staying alive.  Right? … yeah..well, it still sucks.


I’m tired of being tired.

I’m tired of hurting.

I’m tired of being drug addled. 

But I am not tired of being home, whole and healthy (or reasonably close enough)….so I’ll take all the tireds and shut up.

I finally got a shower today after 3 days. I took a long hot bath the night before the surgery so I wouldn’t have to face a shower without caffeine in the morning.  So yep, three days.  It was kind of tough washing my hair. Although I loosened up in the shower some but I’m sure I’ll be sorry I used my right are so much.

What I would really have liked? For Him to have given me a bath, scrub my back, wash my hair and wrap me up in a big warm fuzzy towel.  And then I think I would have liked something very prurient afterwards.

Happy Holiday Indeed

The holidays are funny aren’t they? They put you in a headspace that is different from any other time of the year.

I’m away visiting family. I just spoke with Maitre and while I both appreciate him and love him throughout the year there was something about speaking to him just now that drove home how much he has come to mean to me. It’s not merely being away although that certainly magnifies it but it is being away so completely from that which he gives my heart. It is his quiet and simple understanding of who I am and his acceptance of the many things that make me up. Speaking to him I found a special place opening up inside of me. I had unwittingly sealed that place off while I was away from him but simply hearing the man who is not only my Maitre and Daddy but also my friend and lover, opened that place up.

I was discussing “the lifestyle” with my cousin today. He asked if I thought my yearnings came from a place of low self-esteem. I’ve always known the answer to be no. Quite the opposite. Today I very clearly recognized that not only do my yearnings NOT come from low self-esteem but rather, since truly embracing who I am and learning to be comfortable in my skin, I feel stronger, more confident and more secure than I have ever felt in my life.

This is the place that opened to me. This place of full knowledge of myself and full knowledge of being loved for who I am, all of me. With him, I am all of me and in being all of me I am strong. I don’t think I had quite realized before the impact of hiding part of myself away. Yes, I know none of us kinksters are ever completely ourselves in the vanilla world…but have you ever paid attention to how much of yourself you aren’t? I don’t mean dominant or submissive. I’m talking more about this unconscious secreting away of part of your soul because unlike most around you there is something just a little different about you…something that most people wouldn’t understand.

When I spoke to him and opened to being myself there was this lovely feeling of release, of letting my guard down and being whole. Is it simply the result of communication with someone who is safe in a broader sense of the term? Or is it something special in us? My guess is it is a bit of both. It was part simply “hanging” with someone of the same ilk and part touching his heart and mind. Touching the heart and mind of the man who I have grown to trust more than I think I have any other individual.

Love After Love

Love After Love  

The time will come 
when, with elation 
you will greet yourself arriving 
at your own door, in your own mirror 
and each will smile at the other’s welcome, 

and say, sit here. Eat. 
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart 
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you 

all your life, whom you ignored 
for another, who knows you by heart. 
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, 

the photographs, the desperate notes, 
peel your own image from the mirror. 
Sit. Feast on your life. 

 -Derek Walcott


This is the second time this poem has entered into my life unbidden. The first time was after the others death. I am certain the individual who sent it to me was trying to encourage me to re-embrace myself. I am sure she thought that our love had resulted in my having lost track of myself, as women often will in the head long plunge into love, when love becomes all consuming, passionate, obsessive.  But I hadn’t lost track of myself at all. Quite the opposite happened. I just hadn’t seen it. So when this poem first appeared in my life I missed its message. My vision was clouded by grief.

Today when it appeared and I read it again I knew what it was saying to me. I have actually been thinking this same thing for some months now. I have once again become the person I once was. I am even more so that person than I was at the beginning. I am stronger and more confident now.  Age has granted me the distance from which not to care what others think (this is not the same as not caring about how they feel mind you). This is inpart his gift, it is very much his gift…too bad I had to lose him to find it.

But now I see it and now I can embrace that very same feeling toward another. We are who we are, we are how we are, love me for all of me, so that I may love you for all of you. All of you is safe with all of me. I sing with pain and I sing with pleasure, I weep with the rapture of giving and the ecstasy of being taken.

There is nothing wrong with me. There is everything right about me, for me. The difference now? I see her, I love her, I want her. I have found the key to being her. I have found her the love she deserves.

On Reactance, Inequity and Submission

Yesterday I posted about the inequity in our communication. I believe I have better insight into my feelings today. After rereading my post from yesterday, and sleeping my feelings, things are a bit clearer.

I am very simply having trouble accepting the inherent inequity of the situation. No matter how much I want this…and I do… I chafe most at this specific portion of the distribution of power. A seasoned submissive would tell me that writing and sharing of myself to this extent is just another act of submission, another act of trust. Rationally I see this but emotionally I have trouble accepting it. After all, I am not a seasoned submissive.

I suppose a certain amount of reactance is to be expected. It is part of my growth in this. Are these struggles along the way, be it this or any other, are part of why I want this, crave this? Is struggling with myself part of why I am drawn to this?

Daddy, I am having a hard time with this inequity. It helps to remember that it is an act of submission but it still makes me cringe. Why do I cringe?  I cringe because at every other time in my life this level of inequity was either negligence or abuse. No, I do not feel that you are engaging in either. At worst life gets in the way.

I am not seeking to create a more equitable relationship. I am not wanting to change us in any big way. All I want, all I need is your help in this. I need your help accepting this and remembering to feel secure and loved. I need your help in feeling safe and good in this act of submission that sharing so much of myself is. (And yes, I know I started it voluntarily).

I always knew that the emotional aspects would be the hardest. You can beat me until the cows come home and it is only but so much submission. But asking me to dig deep emotionally?  It is just so hard for me sometimes.

As with most of my inner life how urgent it is changes. There are days like yesterday I struggle with this and there are other days when it is no struggle at all.