It's time to close this blog. I don't miss writing, as I'm out living my day to day life, and loving every minute of it.
Mr. Right has taken me in hand, and fully embraced his role in TTWD. I'm now referred to as "girl" almost exclusively, and I love it. I call him "Sir" almost exclusively as well. I simply couldn't be happier, more at peace, content, and in balance.
And that leaves me nothing that I want to write about. Because blogging for me is working through issues. So, thankfully, I've nothing to work "through" in this relationship. I am so blessed to have Mr Right in my life, and in love with me.
So, in the words of Carol Burnett, "I'm so glad we had this time together . . . It's the time for me to say, 'so long.'"
Ending on a good note
- on Monday, February 22, 2010
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Birthday Girl
- on Saturday, January 16, 2010
- life, love, Mr. Right
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It's my birthday! I'm 45 today. It's the first time in a very, very long time, (perhaps ever) that I feel all parts of my life are in balance, and I'm headed in a positive direction.
The only thing that could be better about today is if Mr Right & I were on the beach for a week or so. But, if life were perfect, what would I have to strive for?! *laughs*
Being "human"
- on Thursday, January 14, 2010
- anger, codependence, doubt, faith, life, mother, tired, trust, weakness
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Not a light-hearted day. And you might want to stay further away from your screen, because I'm in a mood, and I might even throw something, including a temper tantrum.
I'm out of balance. Wednesday night is a designated spanking night. There was no spanking last night because Mr Right was sick. At first I thought I was mad at him for being sick. Then, I realized I was extremely disappointed.
In my dysfunctional family of origin, being disappointed meant you got angry, and punished others for disappointing you. I know he couldn't help it, and he felt horrible. He even struggled with his own issue of being sick, and appearing "weak" and "helpless" in front of me. It was a tough evening emotionally for us both.
I also know that I'm out of balance because my mother is still living with me while recovering from her surgery. There was a reason that I moved out when I turned 18 - we CANNOT live together. Plus, I'm used to having my own space, and no one to bother me, or hear me when I work through my issues out loud. She has always taken the role of martyr, and she still plays it very well. Plus, she was always sick as I grew up, due to either staying up too late arguing with dad, or hung over. As she was a stay-at-home mom, I never had any time alone. I am now dealing with all of these issues again.
I so want to close my office, send my kid to her dad's and run away to a warm beach somewhere.
But, I digress. Do you ever struggle with your Dominant being "human?" God/dess knows we, as submissives or slaves, struggle with the concept, as does the community itself struggle, with the idea that a slave or submissive is "human," or has "human" needs or wants.
Does your Dominant ever let you see his/her struggle with being "human?"
BTW, the photo is of Vampirella. I read all her comics when I was young - 8 to 12. I have always wanted to be a vamp, and a vampire. yet, I'm afraid of the dark. I know - I'm weird. *shrugs* go figure.
Guns & SSC: death by dumbass
- on Wednesday, January 13, 2010
- bdsm, rights, RISK, safe words, SSC
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Those of us who are in the lifestyle for a number of years now know that we're considered crazy, dangerous to ourselves and our children, and just down right stupid for using chains, whips, paddles, needles, and god/dess knows what else to get our "kink" on.
But, when you see an article like this: Fatal gunplay in Maine sex dungeon leads to trial is it any wonder that we're all seen as kooks and idiots?!
Why, oh, why, oh why, would you ever consent to play under the influence? I think if anyone would check into these people's backgrounds, not one of them knows anything about RISK or SSC. And probably has had little to no contact with the BDSM community at large.
In the end, it's really sad that someone had to die at the hands of another, and make the rest of us look more like wanna-be serial killers. *sigh*