Chasing Me Chasing You

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

The Weight of Hurt

“You didn’t want to get your clit pierced? Why did you put it on your 101 Things list?”

“Because you said you were going to order me to get it done.”

“Well, I guess you’re off the hook then.”

~

It’s conversations like this that crush me. What am I supposed to say to that? I wanted to be on the hook. That was the whole fucking point. I agreed to let him do what he wanted with my body; piercings were part of that.

This is why I think I need to take my collar off. I feel like I need to regain and recenter myself a bit. He knows how much I want to submit to him and I think that’s the problem. Like I need to make him earn my submission again, if he even wants it.

That’s the rub. He wants me to be happy, but he admits he cannot meet that need. And if everything else in our relationship were solid then I think I may be able to back away from my need to submit. But with everything else weighing me down, I need this type of release. I just don’t see how to make that work.

Where does that leave my submission in the possibly indefinite interim? I certainly wouldn’t be collared mom anymore (though it’s not like I’m really going to change the page or my twitter name). He’s not comfortable with me finding a local dom. He doesn’t want me to invested in a distance or online dominant either.

I may be ‘off the hook’, but still very much in the tank.

Twelve

Twelve are all the things racing in my mind right now. Each fighting their to the forefront of my thoughts. Their jostling making it impossible to reach a conclusion or solution. The one night of orgasms (two!) I’ve had in the last two weeks didn’t even help me sleep. Having a grandmother who was addicted to pain medications and sleeping pills has made me very wary of taking anything for those ailments. But that hasn’t even stopped me this week as I need all the help I can get.

Twelve are the number of times I keep running our budget around in my head. Forgetting the electric payment one time and my student loan payment the next. Each time trying to make the numbers add up to something we can actually achieve. Each time coming up short. It’s a stress whirlpool that keeps sucking me in. Whenever I think I’ve cracked it I remember some bill and my depression spikes all over again.

Twelve is the number of times in the last hour I have changed my mind about asking my husband to remove my collar. Every time I think it would help me to get past the failure of our D/s relationship I touch it and can’t imagine it being gone. My two year-old grabs it when I pick him up. It’s been on my neck since before he was born. Not wearing it would feel like I am giving up on my submission. But while I am submissive I am not currently a submissive. Each time I think I have reached a clear opinion about it my heart pulls me the other way.

I’ve been thinking of twelve different sexual activities that I’ve been craving lately. Masturbation isn’t really hitting the spot lately. The time difference with Jack has been catching me up and we haven’t had a mutual session in awhile. And honestly, sex with myself while he’s 1,500 miles away is not one of my twelve cravings.

Twelve is the number of things that I need to be doing that I just can’t get the motivation for. I need to update my business website. I need to get our 2016 taxes around. Each time I sit down to do any of them I find a distraction, either purposefully or accidentally. Even things that should be fun or positive are avoided. Hell, I’ve started having anxiety attacks at the grocery store.

I’ve never felt more disparate than I have felt lately. I would say I feel like I’m split into twelve different pieces to stick with the theme, but it’s probably more than that. And I’m sure they will start fitting back together soon. Somehow.

In any case I’m trying not to make any big decisions right now. The collar is still on. Though I’m really not sure it’s his or my best interest to leave it that way. I can still be kinky and submissive without it. And it represents a relationship, a contract, that we don’t have anymore. Each time I reach for it and want to feel like a good girl it hurts more than reassures. And trust me, I have shed more than twelve tears for that.

Wicked Wednesday for post Stockpiled Cravings

Is there an art to begging?

Last night I asked him if I could suck his dick. I may have been a bit tipsy when I asked, but it was a completely serious request.

He said yes, even seemed excited by the thought. However, as soon as I asked I felt terrible. Like I was begging him. I just felt like I had lost my last little bit of dignity and self-respect. The words left my lips and I almost didn’t care what his answer was. I felt so worthless for having to beg for attention.

I just don’t want to start this year like this. Last year we had stopped our 24/7 D/s and that was difficult. If I had only known what 2016 would bring. Things are getting better though. He seems in a much better place lately. Even more motivated and happy, and that’s wonderful. I don’t want to minimize that. It just hasn’t changed how he interacts with me. I think I had hoped it would be one big resurgence. Like a better mood would automatically mean that I would become more sexually alluring or something.

Spoiler: He went to sleep. I feel cold.

 

Personal Highs & Global Lows: 2016 Year in Review

This has been a year of ups and downs (how generic is that?). I’m not really sure I’ve had a year with more dramatic highs and lows. It’s just odd how many personal goals I have achieved this year. I think they were surrounded by so many global lows that it’s hard to find them through the fog. Between Brexit and the clusterfuck that was the U.S. Presidential election, it’s been tough. Not to mention all the influential people that have passed away this year. It’s been a public year that I would love to leave behind, but a personal year that I wouldn’t mind repeating.

I started my own business. – It has always been a goal and last February I officially got my L.L.C. up and running. I haven’t become a worldwide sensation, but I have a few clients and some pretty business cards. Hopefully I can give it more time in the coming year, but it will probably never be a full-time thing, and that’s okay.

We moved into our house. – Although we bought it in 2015, we didn’t officially move in until May of this year. The kitchen remodel and refinishing the floors took several months, and it was great to move into finished product rather than a renovation. There are still projects to do, there always are, but we are finally settled. Moving from rental to rental was a stressful process, and the idea of not looking at a moving truck for a decade or two sounds downright blissful.

I went back to work. – Separate from the business, I went back to work. I had been employed as a consultant for a database company from home. But when the opportunity came up to get back into an office and get good insurance coverage for everyone, I jumped at it. Don’t get me wrong, I miss my old masturbation sessions with Jack in the afternoon, but getting out of the house has been good for me. I mean, I wear more than sweatpants now, so that’s something.

My sleeve tattoo is finally finished. – I need to get a good picture to show it off, but I’m beyond happy with it. The whole thing took about 18 months to complete. There were several months between some of my appointments due to various hangups for me and my artist. But early in December I was able to go for my last piece of lace and touch-ups. I’m sure I’ll have a few spots that I will go back and have darkened at some point. Right now though, I couldn’t be happier with what she was able to do with my design request.

And then there were the more kinky aspects of my year….

We opened our marriage. – After talking a lot about other partners and sexual experiences, my husband and I decided to open our marriage. Looking back, this has been a roller coaster of a decision. I had a not go good interaction with a local dom that made me take a huge step back and question everything. Luckily, I kept an open mind and learned from my mistakes. Finding Jack and Jill and visiting them this fall was an amazing experience. Hopefully we will be able to work out another visit (or twelve) this year.

I started identifying as Poly. – I think I can safely say that this is purely because of Jack. After my negative experience, I never really thought that I would find someone that I had a deep emotional connection with outside of my marriage. When we opened up, I was looking for a friend with benefits. Someone to joke around with and maybe exchange oral once and awhile. But he is so much more than I could have hoped for. Aside from sharing a birthday, he has become such a good friend and lover. I am so happy to call him secondary and I know that our relationship will do nothing but grow in the coming year. (Get it, I said coming. He appreciates me, don’t judge.)

I had sex with a woman. – I don’t really classify myself as bisexual. Women are beautiful and I appreciate their minds and bodies. I just don’t really have emotional connections with them like I do with men. The one woman I thought I loved broke my heart, so it’s not really anything I’ve looked for. Visiting California this fall was a wonderful chance to have my first threesome and experience a woman’s body. Jill is lovely and I appreciate her letting me have that connection with her. Certainly something I would love to do again.

I doubled my ‘slept with’ list. – Not only did I have my first same-sex sexual encounter this year, but I actually doubled the number of people I have slept with. I went from three to six. I know, I was shocked too. Not sure I will be able to do the same next year, but as that number hasn’t changed at all in the decade before this, I was impressed.

I finally stopped ‘fighting’ my submission. – Through everything that Sir (my husband) has been dealing with this year I kept coming back to whether or not I really needed submission. Maybe I could just turn it off and everything would be easier. It took me awhile, but I realized that that’s stupid. I’m a submissive. I always have been in one form or another and I know now that I always will be. And I have the power to submit to who I choose. I know these seem like obvious conclusions to reach, but it’s taken me awhile to get there.

As far as resolutions go I tend to be too optimistic. I set high expectations for myself and then hate myself by the end of January. I always want to lose weight and write more, so we’ll see how that goes. My 101 Things in 1001 Days ends this year, so there are several things to work toward on there. Lots more photos, reflection, and erotic writing to come. And, I’m sure, the continuing fight with my depression will appear from time to time. You know, to break up all the boob pics.

 

Poly Problem #72 – Distance

Obviously distance is not a problem for all poly relationships. Some polys all live together in the same house or see each other for regular dates. But no, I couldn’t do this the simple way. Finding a local poly guy who was interested in me in my local, conservative community was never going to happen. Even expanding the search area to the tri-county area wouldn’t yield positive results, though perhaps some pretty sketchy ones. No, I had to find a guy who I have a ton in common with, have a wonderful sarcastic rapport, and an amazing physical attraction. The catch is that he lives 2,500 miles away. And while a 38-hour drive (trust me, I’ve mapped it) sounds good most of the time, it doesn’t fit in my daily family responsibilities.

So, how should we get through this large gaps between our sexy visits? We talk everyday. Considering how well we generally get on and how much we just enjoy chatting, this helps a lot.  Having ‘regular life’ things in common like jobs, kids, and similar general annoyances, we can always strike up a conversation about something. Having a message when I get home from work about legos or something silly his daughter said always makes me smile. And being jealous of the photos of food help distract me from missing him.

There is the sexy stuff, obviously. The fact that he can make me feel sexy from three time zones away is amazing. And the videos of him stroking himself and moaning my name definitely help me get through the day. Having those videos and photos from our time together, while they do make me miss him, also make the distance seem doable. I smile as I flip through those memories and I know that they will happen again.

We also close the distance with lots of everyday photos. He likes to send me shots of him in the shower, getting ready to run errands, or cleaning. It seems mundane, but that’s why I love it. He makes me part of his everyday life. Sharing bad and good days helps us to support the other and our spouses. It’s all one big positive vibe.

Now I say that with only a small percentage of jest. Some days the distance is crushing. When I have a bad day at work or the kids just won’t go to bed I think how nice it would be to be hidden away in a hotel room with Jack. There are those moments when running away from responsibilities makes me look at flights to California. But usually just talking to him or my husband about my rough day makes it better. And having that support and encouragement from two people is wonderful.

I will say that distance poly, at least for me, is different from a ‘traditional’ long-distance relationship. Because my primary partner is a part of my everyday life, there isn’t the same loneliness. I still miss Jack terribly, but we get support from our spouses to help us through. And I don’t remember this much sexting from my previous relationships, though I may have been doing it wrong.

Christmas Dry Spell

Christmas for me is about stress. Ever since I reached the age where I began purchasing gifts for friends and family. I always want to find that perfect present. I really look for personal gifts. Finding something that I know a person would enjoy is always a goal. Often there will be something that is a joke or memory attached, or something they  really need.

One year I found a rare Care Bear on Ebay that my Aunt collects. Another year I did and Etsy Christmas were all my gifts were handmade and I made my own cards and wrapping paper. That was obviously before we had kids and I still had time and money to burn.

For the last few years Christmas has been a mad scramble. I am usually optimistic when I start the shopping list and budget in early November. But by the first week in December I am a mess. I am almost always over budge (four years and counting) and can never find time to get caught up with everything that needs done.

The wrapping piles up until the last hours before Christmas. This year everything is down in the basement as that’s the only place we can regulate the kids’ access. And every night I plan to go down and get a little bit done, but some other immediate need comes up and it continues to be pushed off.

Then there are the last minute, “oh shit” people that I forget to buy for. This year it was the boys’ teachers. Last year it was the husband’s boss. So some last minute shopping trip(s) is inevitable. Again sucking up time and ruining my carefully planned budget even more.

I know, my whining has nothing to do with kink. But it has a lot to do with sex. As in, we don’t have any. I haven’t done a factual study, but I’d wager that December is easily my sexless month. Jack’s recent visit aside, obviously (that is not, though hopefully will be standard). I am just too stressed out. I hardly sleep. Getting to bed late and up early doesn’t give us many sexy opportunities.

There is also the influx of extended family time. This year they are coming to our house. Which, while it does mean we get to sleep in our own bed, does mean that quietness is paramount. When we travel I always feel a little weird having sex in someone else’s house. A hotel is fine, but I never know how squeaky someone’s guest bed is, or, how thin the walls are.

So we usually spend the weekend drinking, getting horny, and then going to bed frustrated. Or we’ll stay up chatting with family or fighting with the kids to stay in bed until we pass out. Either way, I guess I should only speak for me, but I’m a grumpy mess by the time everyone leaves. Making sure that everyone else is having a good time and getting everything they need is exhausting. And as I only get Monday off this year since Christmas falls on a Sunday, I’ll be heading back to work on Tuesday. My poor co-workers.

**To spite this post I grabbed the Doxy and had a marvelous orgasm last night. To spite me right back, as soon as I put the Doxy away I remembered I don’t have a dinner planned for tonight.**

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Poly Problem #83

So, the lover made a comment about coming to visit this weekend. I just about started running around the house in excitement. But then I started to think, which I never a good thing. Trying to get things around on such short notice would be crazy. What would we do with the kids? I have so much prep for thanksgiving next week. We are hosting this year, which takes care of one of my 101 Things, but also brings a pile of stress. There is just a lot of cleaning, cooking, and planning. I want to see him so badly, but when he told me that it probably wasn’t going to happen I wasn’t too upset.

I mean, in reality I was sad, but there was no point getting too bummed about it. Especially since he immediately started discussing a few possible weeks in December. More excitement and possibility. And, because I can’t take anything positive and accept it, I have to dissect into ruin. I have already begun thinking about all of the ways that this could go wrong.

The biggest concern is that it’s only been about six weeks. If he does find a way to sort a visit before Christmas, then it will be  under three months since I saw him last. That sounds amazing, doesn’t it. Except, here’s the rub. It’s completely unsustainable. With our finances, I’ll be lucky to be able to fly out once a year to see him. And I can’t ask him to shoulder the cost of our relationship more than what I can give.

I just don’t want to create the expectation of getting to see him too often. If we see each other in December, I am worried that when February comes around I will expect to see him again. And when we can’t make it work I am worried I would get upset. At him, at myself, at other’s that I love around me. And it’s not fair to anyone. Obviously I want to see him as often as possible. But our lives, for the most part, will have to be apart. And it’s weird to me that I almost want to wait to see him again so that I get used to it.

And then I miss him. I want to joke and be sarcastic and fuck like rabbits. To cuddle, and laugh, and eat junk food. All those things top my cravings more than missing him ever will. The very idea of promoting space between us seems horrible.

How do I always get myself into these situations where I have two bad options?

The New Definition of Lonely

If I stop trying, then I can really see how much he has given up. Talk about having no power. I feel like I’m crawling behind him, begging for scraps. If I stopped crawling, would he even notice me at all. I hang on his every word, hoping for something positive. A compliment, a smile. Most of the time he won’t even look me.
I’m just throwing myself a little pity party, but I don’t know what to do. I can’t hide my sexual frustration, especially after a week or so. And his lack of desire for me is having a much greater impact on my self-esteem than he realizes. But it’s more than that. It’s that he’s using this lack of sexual desire as an excuse to stop everything. We don’t talk, we don’t play games. We interact through the kids and that’s it.
I just feel like I’m a burden to him. Some sex-crazed manic that he has to deal with when he would rather be doing anything else. I know that deep down it’s not my fault, that I didn’t do anything to make his sexual desire wane. But my heart doesn’t feel that way.
This is worse than a year ago when he decided he didn’t want to do 24/7 D/s anymore. The kids and I are some horrible burden of responsibility that he would love to abandon for something more fun. Working hard and earning a living for our family is a waste of his time. Yet I go my low-paying job every day so we can have insurance.
I think this is probably just a backlash to the week. Feeling like I have no power in the country I live in. Worried about our future as a nation and the safety of friends and family. The joy of getting to see my brother yesterday, only to be crushed by how much he has changed. His face looking at me in confusion and pain; like how did I let this happen. It was all I could do not to cry in front of him. But how could I possibly add my pain to what he has already suffered.
I want to be angry. Angry about all of it, but right now I am just sad. I will wear my safety pin until I am strong enough to take more action. And I have to get that strength from myself.
This is going to involve a serious wedgie from hiking up my big girl panties and a large amount of coffee.

A Post I Shouldn’t Have to Write

This post is not sexy. This post is not kinky. This post is angry and sad.

I’m not sure I’ve ever discussed it before, but my brother has learning disabilities. My parents adopted him when I was six. When I was growing up I was very resentful of him. I had to grow up fast to help care for him. And my parents often had to put him first. They tried their best, and looking back I don’t begrudge them anything. The very idea of taking on a child with special needs and giving him a home was something that I couldn’t conceive. Even now, as a parent, that responsibility seems daunting.

Having a brother with disabilities taught me a lot about life and all the advantages that people have just by being ‘normal’. My parents had to fight for his education and his equal treatment by others. I took that on as well. I remember when a school employee struck him once and I witnessed it. I walked into the principals office without knocking to let him know that he was about to be sued. I protected him as much as I could as a big sister and a caretaker. Other students knew that he wasn’t to messed with; me and my cousins were always there. It was a space I always knew I could keep him safe.

Since becoming an adult my parents have tried to make sure that he continues to have the best opportunities. He has lived in a group home with other people with similar disabilities for several years. He goes to work, has his own space, and takes parts in life skill activities (i.e. cooking, laundry, cleaning). We can visit and he comes to holiday functions and family gatherings. The home has been making small changes over the last year, but he has been acclimating pretty well. Or so we were led to believe.

A few weeks ago my parents found out that my brother was being abused. Apparently, after the last housing switch there was a change in staffing levels that my parents were not notified about. As time passes we are finding out more and more horrific details. Calls to my parents that were documented but never made. Bruises that were never reported. Outbursts that were blamed on medication levels. My stomach turns the more I think about it.

Now that we are aware, my parents and I have forced change. My brother has been moved to a safe location. We are following up on police reports and getting him crisis counselling. The company is failing to answer our questions, and I know that we will force them to account for their behavior and/or lack of response. But it doesn’t make it easier.

My heart breaks to think about it. He’s twenty-nine years old, but to me he will always be a little boy. My parents have been to see him and they say that he’s not the same. I will be going to see him this week and I’m afraid. I’m scared I will just cry to see him. We don’t know if he was sexually abused or not; and I’m afraid we will never know. The very thought makes me sick. I know that he cries and panics when the other house is even mentioned. He is terrified of being forced to go back there. He’s gained nearly fifty pounds and apparently isn’t sleeping well.

He’s my baby brother. I remember sitting in the kitchen with my parents when they told me that he was going to be joining our family. I remember discussing what his name should be. We have photos of all of us with the judge on the day we officially adopted him. And the thought that anyone would put their hand on him in any sort of violent way just makes me so angry. I don’t understand and I don’t want to. I just want him to be safe and happy. And the fact that that isn’t assumed weighs so heavily on my heart.

Spoil Me Thin

Okay, that title is crap. Well, I think it’s crap. I’ve never really been spoiled too much before. But I’m pretty sure I cannot blame that on me being overweight. If I can, please let me know immediately.

As my twitter boyfriend and I near the holidays we are trying to push our weight-loss into overdrive. We have issued a challenge to one another. The goal is to lose at least 8 lbs. by Christmas (1 lb. per week). We are going to try and support one another to exercise more and stay on top of our diets. Between vacations, emotionally tense situations, and life in general, we have both let things slide. Me much more than him, if I’m honest.

So after a week of logging food (again), and even attempting to exercise, I have gained a pound. Yeah, because my body can’t say ‘fuck you’ enough. I didn’t even eat that much candy this weekend. Though after I stepped off the scale I certainly wanted to. Instead I went outside and raked leaves for a little over an hour. Feeling good about myself I then ruined all my hard work by having Taco Bell for lunch. Yes, I know, I’m a glutton for punishment.

I’m just so up and down mood-wise lately. And it honestly surprises me how much that will mess with my sleep and weight patterns. And stress is going to be around for awhile, so if I’m going to meet this challenge I will have to find a way to push through. The twitter boyfriend has made the offer quite nice.

We talked about gifts and different things to reward ourselves with if we make it. We decided that in order to get the rewards, we both have to meet the goal. This way it’s about supporting each other, rather than it becoming a competition. He has talked about giving me a spa day. I have always wanted a full wax, so it certainly sounds like good motivation. Buying for him is more difficult though. He doesn’t like the idea of me spending money on him, and we aren’t sure how his wife will feel about it. As neither of us want to mess with their current progress, we are still working out his reward.

I’m hopeful though that this will restart my weight loss. I went down twenty pounds over the summer and then completely stalled out at the end of August. I haven’t put a lot back on (except for that fucking one pound!). However, I’m still shy of my goal weight by quite a lot and I’m worried that this plateau may be permanent.

While I thought that more sex may help, it has not had the desired affect. That or I just haven’t hit the threshold for sex to be considered a workout. I was planning on participating in All Anal November this year, so it’s possible that Sir and I can make it work. Not that I intend to make this some sort of diet or weight loss blog, but I will keep you posted. A wax is on the line, and being the exhibitionist that I am I need to win it so I can post pictures. It will be a happy holiday for everyone.