Chasing Me Chasing You

An uncollared submissive struggling through depression, motherhood, and the constant craving of her next orgasm.

Decade of Change

I’m an emotional person. I think I always have been. I guess most people would call it sensitive, sometimes overly so. I think becoming a mom has made this ‘worse’. I just find myself constantly looking at various situations as if my child was going through them; and I usually end up crying. Watching people struggle is hard as I don’t want that for my boys (who does?). But I am a worrier, and I tend to worry about me not being there for them in whatever struggles or accomplishments they have.

Three years ago I watched as our dog was hit by a car while we were visiting my parents. Sir and I held him as he passed. It was easily the most horrific thing I’ve ever experienced. About three months later I realized that I had lost forty pounds and I was only sleeping three hours a night. My doctor diagnosed me with PTSD. After three different counselors, trying to balance my PTSD and depression with medication, and finding kink with Sir, I am finally starting to let it go.

I still can’t really do loud noises. Loud bangs will always make me stop for a moment. I haven’t gone to a fireworks show or live concert in years. And I’m ok with that. I took me a long time to let go of the guilt of losing my dog; if my ‘punishment’ is that I can’t go see live music anymore, I’m fine with that.

I’m not looking for pity. There are people in this world who have been through things much worse than I have or will ever experience. However, I have decided that as I enter this new decade of life, I will acknowledge my past. My thirties is going to be about my future with Sir. Being the best me for him and for our kids. I won’t forget our precious puppy or people that have entered and left my life during my twenties. They have all changed me and made me who I am today. I respect all of them and what they have given me. But they were part of an old me.

The new me is going to be the best kinky slave that she can be. In ten years, when I am freaking out about turning forty, I want to look back and see the growth in myself. And I see kink and our TPE relationship as being a big part of that.

There is an element of kink that I was drawn to for the simple fact that it was allowing me a ‘safe’ place to find myself. I thought I had myself all figured out when I was a junior in college walking the highlands of Scotland. But BDSM has shown me how wrong I was. Not only in a sexual exploration sense, but in just how much I can take. D/s has shown me how strong I really am. I fell at the park this weekend. I was holding the baby, and as I lost my balance I turned 180 degrees so that I would break his fall. I landed on the side of the playground equipment and my thigh took both our weight. It hurt like a bitch. I have a massive bruise. But he was fine. Sir drove home and made me sit on the couch with ice. It’s one of the first times I’ve really let him take care of me. Not that I haven’t been hurt before, but I guess I always figured I had to be strong enough to push through it. But now, being his, he told me to sit and I sat. He handed me pain meds and I didn’t argue. And I didn’t feel guilty when he did the dishes after dinner. If he wanted me to do them, he would have told me to.

I know this may seem like rambling and laziness, but for me it is growth. I have the confidence that if I sit down and he takes care of me, I’m not going to lose him. I am not a burden. I am his pet slave that he isn’t going to leave me. And even though I’m thirty I’m not worried about some younger woman (or man) replacing me. I’m certainly not encouraging him to find another playmate or take on another slave just yet, but at least my emotional nature doesn’t take over at the thought of it anymore. I still worry about his confidence in this. I worry that he will pull away from me, not for someone else, but because he fights himself. I hope I am strong enough for that too.

But I am working to be more positive. Not the jaded, glass is half-empty girl of my mid-twenties. I am still sarcastic as anything; we will see how long it takes Sir to beat that out of me.

Oh yeah, and speaking of beatings, here’s my bruise from my fall on Saturday. Sir was a little crushed he couldn’t take credit for it.



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