Chasing Me Chasing You

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

Bad Math

Sir’s low sex drive + My horny, submissive personality = Me feeling very inadequate.

We haven’t had sex in….I actually can’t remember the last time we had sex. I’ve had a few Doxy orgasms with and without his help over the last few days, but that’s been it. And that last night I remember giving him oral he had to look at Tumblr the whole time.

Sir’s dependency on visual stimulation to keep his erection = Me having serious self-esteem problems.

I just feel like I should something. Don’t get me wrong. I get that I’m not some big sexual prize. My tits are pretty great, and I have some skills sucking cock, but that’ about it. I’m not sure why, but I guess part of me thought that BDSM was going to be my sexy ticket for life awhile. I could play out my fantasies and maintain my high sex drive. And he could try out all of the porn he liked and see how sadistic he could be. Now obviously that was a pipe dream, but that doesn’t mean I should let things continue like this without doing something.

My insatiable sex drive + His guilt over not craving sex as much as me = Me wanting to want sex less and resenting myself when I don’t.

Any one who has ever tried this knows how hard it is. I don’t want to crave sex. And when I do, not only do I get upset about it, but the longer I go without the grumpier I get. It’s a vicious cycle. The biggest thing is that I don’t want to be upset with him. It’s not his fault and he feels bad enough about it. However, my attempts to be understanding have only left me to direct all my frustration and confusion back on myself.

My sexually frustrated, low self-esteem state = Crappy writing from me + A probably unwise level of expectation for my upcoming trip to California.

My writing on here lately has just gotten whiny. I don’t judge any of you that I have given up on the sexy scenes I used to post. It’s hard to write without inspiration and writing my fantasies when I’m not sure they will ever happen just makes me depressed. I even took a few days off last week in the hopes that I could come up with something that wouldn’t offend you all. The best I could come up with was how much I am focusing and getting nervous about this vacation. And now I’m starting to worry that me talking it about it is upsetting Sir, which probably is doing his sex drive even more damage.

Today’s Moral = I really hope you’re not reading this as any sort of advice column.

I am just a mess of a submissive trying to make any portion of this dynamic work. I keep hoping from a fake disaster to a real one and back again. Normally I wouldn’t classify myself as any sort of drama queen, but BDSM has shone new lights on all parts of my personality, so who knows. In any case, I hope that we can figure something out to reach a happy medium for us. A sex drive balance or a pathway to other partners that includes him as well.

I’m just tired of all this bad math.

Just one of those days

Tuesday was just an off day. I really tried not to let it bother me. I tried to be positive and up beat as I struggled with each little annoyance. But it didn’t work. It took so much energy to wear a smile through each an every problem that by the time I drove home after work I had a massive headache. And having a headache as you walk  into a home with two toddlers (one of which is sick) is not a good plan.

The 2 year-old is on the mend. My dad came to stay with him on Monday so Sir and I could both go to work. Yesterday, however, we had to tag team time off. I stayed home in the morning so he could go to a meeting and then I went into the office in the afternoon. Getting to lounge around in comfy clothes was nice. But the crying child made it slightly less relaxing. That and my brain constantly worrying about the piles of work on my desk kept the morning rather tense.

Once I got into the office things calmed down. Except, of course, one of my co-workers who decided that I smeared my son’s snot all over my clothes before I left. She was positive that I was merely an incubator for my son’s illness to infect her immediately. This, while slightly annoying, would have been easy to ignore. But she let my presence sour her entire mood and preceded to sigh and grump to everyone for the rest of the afternoon.

This was after Monday when I got the call that my son was sicker than we thought. That was when she informed me that that is why she was a stay at home mom (her kids are college-age now). Because, obviously, since I was a working mother, that explained why my son was ill. Like I was being punished for my employment or something.

Sorry for the mini-rant, but without significant outside assistance, it is very difficult to be a one-income family anymore. If you can do it, good for you. But don’t judge and tell me that I am somehow a poor parent because it’s something that I have to/choose to do. I love my job. Don’t even try to make me feel guilty about it.

So, anyway, headache when I got home…

It wasn’t even like I could enjoy a good drink and a hard fuck either. My calories for the day were shot and after two nights of little sleep Sir and I were knackered. Well, almost knackered 🙂

Wicked Wednesday for post Stockpiled Cravings

Mental Reboot

Lake Chautauqua
Where I wish I could go today.

Yesterday was bad. I haven’t had a depressive slump like that in several months. I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t want to do anything. Sir forced me to eat breakfast so I could take my meds. They didn’t help. It was a long day.

I hate these days for so many reasons. The obvious is that I get nothing done. I don’t want to leave my sweatpants and my couch corner, much less clean or engage with the outside world. But, almost worse is what I do to Sir. He’s a fixer. He wants to make things better. And I know it kills him that he can’t just order me out of it. And then he starts to feel inadequate. That hurts the most. He’s everything and I hate to bring him down.

I thought that I was doing better. But starting the business and the work on the house just overwhelmed everything. I’m scared of failing. Scared that I’m being selfish and I’m ruining the family finances because I want to play at something that I don’t know will work. I hate the house we live in more every day because I just want to move into our new home. It makes me tired to look at the mess and packing that needs done here. I’ve become quite impatient; not good considering I have small children.

A good night’s sleep helped a bit. I’m more motivated this morning. Coffee is a good balm. And a friend sent me an outline for a fantasy of his that he wants me to write. It was very inspirational. So now I’m trying to get work done so I can take my time writing out his darkest secrets. And since they involve me having a lot of yummy orgasms I am quite motivated. Ghostwriting other people’s fantasies sounds like a job I could handle.

Strap-on Security

Midas over on The Golden Treasure Trip commented on my Evaluation post with an interesting question. The topic of the post (because I really can’t expect you to read all my ramblings) was about how I give feedback to Sir about his performance as we hone in on our M/s roles. He offered some really good insight from his own experience and ended with this head scratcher:

You mention feeling guilty to critique a scene, that would be first focal point in my opinion. Which fear is below that guilt?

Such a simple question and I knew that it would rattle around in my brain for awhile. Not because I didn’t know the answer, but because I did. His question struck directly at the problem, I am incredibly insecure. I was insecure when we were vanilla, I’m not sure why I thought that it would just disappear.

It’s not all Sir’s fault. I blame previous relationships. You know, those ones where you think everything is going pretty well and they are moving on. When they eventually break up with you they are so checked out you don’t understand what is happening. Even if you look back months later and realize where things started to go downhill, that moment of shock and their abrupt departure stays with you.

When Sir told me that he was bisexual I thought that that was one of those moments. I was fine with his sexuality. He had had a boyfriend in the past, but he was with me. And I was fine, or thought so at least, for quite a while. But slowly, this nagging thought kept entering my brain. I don’t have a penis. I know, shocker. You wouldn’t think I would need a reminder of that very often, and yet. But that is where it started. And it grew.

I just got this niggling thought in my brain that he was going to wake up one day and realize that he needed a penis; pretty much the only thing that I couldn’t give him. And there is nothing I could do to shake that feeling. We’ve been together for over eight years, married for seven, you would think that I would be over it.

But I’m not. The idea of being critical of him is so difficult. Like I will say the wrong thing at the wrong time and that will be it. I think that my past relationship experiences (even though they were years ago) have bolstered my insecurities of him leaving me. I don’t really address issues outside of our sexual relationship that well either. But this M/s set-up and feedback have really highlighted how little I feel comfortable criticizing him. There is also the knowledge that I know he is trying his best. He’s not being vindictive or cruel. He’s learning to be a Dom just as much as I am learning how to be his pet. It’s not completely natural for either of us. I don’t want to expect too much from him. We are both getting comfortable with our kinks. Neither of us wants to push too hard and have the other throw in the towel. And, as the submissive, I don’t want to come across as whiny and bratty either. A difficult balance to achieve.

I don’t think that Sir will leave me. He loves me. He loves our children and our life together. My insecurities are not due to anything that he has done. It’s just my own irrational fear of losing him. Of not being enough. He has never given me that impression. I just don’t know why I can’t believe him. He thinks I’m beautiful and sexy and I am everything he needs. So why can’t I just be happy that I don’t have a penis?

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This week’s Wicked Wednesday topic is Disability. I could wax poetic about how insecurity is my disability, but that would be disrespectful to those who struggle everyday with a real one. This difficulty is the closest I come to that struggle and I recognize how blessed I am. And growing up with a brother who has disabilities, I would never intend to judge or belittle those who have higher mountains to climb. You all are my heroes.

Wicked Wednesday

How Can Things Go So Wrong

A three day weekend. I was so excited. I have been trying to keep my expectations in check. Sir has been under a lot of work stress and hasn’t really been able to focus on us. Friday afternoon he started texting me about how he was feeling really sadistic, and how he wanted to relieve some of his work stress on my body this weekend. I was so wet.

The boys fought us going to bed that night. But it was ok. We had two more nights where bedtime wasn’t an issue, right? We could stay up Saturday and Sunday evenings for long play sessions and still be rested for work on Tuesday. So after the kids drifted off, we pulled out the rope and tried some new knots. He has been having fun trying to get my elbows to touch behind my back. We also played around with some hogties. But it got to be later than we realized (time flies when you are having fun), so we figured we had a few days and turned in.
A good decision in hindsight as the baby had a rough morning and was up earlier than normal. My parents were visiting as they are leaving for England next week. It was nice to see them before they left. I know these months will be hard on them as they haven’t been away from the grandkids for more than a few weeks. So they came for the day to wear out the kids and help me while Sir worked. I will never turn down extra hands. And we got the kids photos taken, so wins on all fronts.
Sir talked to me before we left. “Do you want to cry for me tonight?” It rattled around in my head all day. I was on pins and needles while I was out with my parents. I started to tingle as soon as they left. And then…
And then I started to hurt. I brushed it off, I wasn’t going to let a little pain ruin my night. But it wouldn’t go away. I ate oatmeal for dinner. Sir was nice enough to have leftovers so I wouldn’t have to cook. I couldn’t hold the baby for long periods of time. Sir picked up the slack, he is amazing like that. But, he also said the words that destroyed my night.
“I don’t think we should play tonight.”
I took pain meds. I took a hot shower. He put me to bed. Nothing worked.
And now, now I am in the ER waiting for test results while Sir is at home trying to get some sleep before the baby wakes up. This is not what our evening was supposed to be.
I cried in the car. I cried harder than I have in awhile. I am sure the ER check-in staff thought it was from the pain, but it wasn’t. I hurt, I really do. But this was so much worse.
This pain took my time. Time that we never have. Sir struggles to balance work stress with his Domly duties. I know he hates it when we have to take a backseat to the job. That is life right now. But he was feeling it. He wanted to play without me begging, he was finally able to focus on us the way we both want.
I just want to go home. I want to beg his forgiveness for messing this up. I know this isn’t my fault, but sitting here it sure as hell feels like it. And tomorrow when I am tired from being up all night I will feel like it too, when he has to take point with the kids instead of relaxing in his day off.
Trying to stay positive. We do have tomorrow night, if I can get some help and some sleep. I am just getting really tired of saying that, ‘tomorrow night’.

The Guilt of the Holidays

Several friends and bloggers moved this year, including us. And, depending on how our house hunt goes, hopefully we will be in our own home for the holidays next year. But, with moving and the stress of the holiday season, one emotion that never fails to rear its ugly head is guilt.

For those who don’t read Kaya’s blog (you should), she moved across the country away from her two youngest children this year. She has posted a couple times about her feeling pretty guilty. And as much as I wish she didn’t feel that way, it’s part of the job. It’s like empty nest in reverse.

My mother experiences this feeling every year. My brother has been living in a care home for the last eight years. We usually try to get over and see him when we come in for the holiday dinner on my dad’s side of the family (it was last weekend). But on Christmas day he is there with the other residents. My mother feels awful for it every year. It’s weird to say, ‘it is for the best’, but it is. He is happy there, and well taken care of. My parents couldn’t provide the care he needed, not being there for one day doesn’t make them bad parents. Just like Kaya moving for Scott’s job opportunity doesn’t make her a bad mother.

So why does the holiday season bring this rush of guilt. Is it because we have been programmed that these happy days have to be spent with as much family as possible? Because the happy memories of our childhood are surrounded by our parents and the joy of Christmas morning? My parents did everything they could to raise us with happy holiday memories. When is it no longer their responsibility to ensure those jolly times? I wish I knew.

But, to all those parents out there, celebrating with their children or not, I wish you a happy holiday week. All hopes for a guilt-free time may go by the wayside, but I’ll keep my fingers crossed just incase.

Maybe we’ll all get good beatings under our trees as well. I’ll cross my toes for that too.

Please Don’t Take Away My Submissive Membership Card

For those wondering, they don’t actually give out a membership card. At least, if they do, I wasn’t given one.

My title is due to my revelation and my concern that it alters my submissive label. I like being spoiled. As a submissive, I feel like all I should want to do is serve. But that is all I do. Serving Sir is one thing. But I feel like all I do now that I am home is serve my kids. I don’t have personal time, I don’t get to spoil myself. So every once and awhile I would love for Sir to spoil me.

And as soon as that craving comes along I have two immediate guilt reactions. (1) is that how can I possibly call myself a submissive when I want focus on me? And (2) how dare I insinuate that Sir isn’t taking care of me. I have this endless complex about not being a good sub. And any feeling that I somehow find unsub-like, triggers an instant worry.

But I cannot help myself from occasionally feeling ignored. Sir helps around the house when he can, and it makes a huge difference. I feel awful wanting more.

I can feel the judgement from FetLife seeping across the internet.