Well, this Mental Health Awareness Month is one for the journal pages. It appears that my identity crisis on Saturday was just the beginning of a miserable week. It’s only Tuesday and I’ve already had two mental breakdowns. Uncontrollable crying and the urge to close out everything BDSM-related in my life in an instant.
This job promotion could be wonderful. It could also be a lot of stress. I guess even more so if I don’t get it and the complete lack of confidence from my superiors would be difficult to bare. And while it’s been a nice distraction from my regular life and money stress, it’s not making any of the other disappear.
I’m just tired of saying ‘when things calm down’. I keep waiting for things to resolve themselves and to begin to make sense, but they don’t. Money is still tight, my neck still feels naked, and I’m still lost. I keep telling myself that things will sort themselves out soon, but I’m beginning to question that.
I think for me this happened last summer. I decided to go back to work full time and actually began to enjoy my job. It’s stressful, but normally I can handle that. But while that was going okay, everything else exploded. Things started falling apart with the house, costing more money, which started that stress. My husband’s job got messy. And, above all for me, our D/s dynamic completely disappeared. Ever since taking my collar off earlier this year I haven’t been able to make heads or tails of things.
I think one of the biggest attractions to submission for me is the idea of having a direction. Of know what is expected of me and what I need to be doing. I don’t remember feeling this directionless before I found kink, but now that I’m without it, it’s glaring. Maybe that’s too much pressure to put on another person; maybe that’s why it didn’t work out last time. I just don’t want to be responsible for everyone’s happiness while ignoring my own all the time. Submission was chance to be cared for for awhile.
I have a theory that your sex drive is a bit like grant funding. If you don’t use it, next year they’ll give you less. For those not from the United States or those who may not know the Federal Grant Funding system, let me explain. When you apply for grant funds, you have to estimate costs for everything you intend to do. However, if you end up spending less than what they give you, when you re-apply the next year, they will give you less. They assume you don’t know how to estimate after that and undercut you. And, once your budget has been cut, it’s very hard to justify more again.
So, what if your sex drive is just like government funding? If you don’t use it properly you slowly lose it. Slowly getting less and less every year until it completely disappears.
My personal experience has been strangely both in favor and against this theory. When I was vanilla I had no sex drive, or one hardly worth measuring. I guess it doesn’t really disprove the theory as I was starting at nearly zero. The sex drive government had nothing to take away. Then I found kink. My sex drive went into overdrive. Since embracing my submissive side I have craved sex daily, usually multiple times a day. Given the chance, I would love to just be locked up in a hotel room for a few days with the occasional food and sleep break.
Lately, however, my sex drive has started to slow. My husband’s depressive slump has killed his interest in sex. I have tried to take care of things myself, but I find myself losing the plot as other things continue to take priority. At the end of the day I think about how I could have found time for more sexy times, but by then it’s usually too late.
So, as we enter into Masturbation Month, all our priorities need to re-focus. Obviously quality should always take precedent over quantity, but taking the time is equally important. Just think about if past performance were responsible for your sex drive in the future? Don’t let an allergy or work stress have a long-term affect on your attempts of lovely orgasms.
Give your current self and your future self all the lovely ‘O’ faces you deserve this month. I’ll be glad to help where I can to keep you from losing funds next month 🙂
Sorry I’ve been a bit MIA. I honestly have a few different posts started and just need to find some quiet time to finish them.
Last night my mother called to tell me that a dog was hit in front of our farm house last night. Just like our dog that was hit five years ago. I tried my best to hold it together on the phone with her, but I collasped as soon as I hung up. It triggered everything with my PTSD. I haven’t had an episode like that in years. But I couldn’t stop shaking. I was really looking forward to a cider after dinner, but I couldn’t stomach it.
My husband was wonderful. He held me and let me cry. We curled up with the kids and watched a movie. It was nice to just be able to sit quietly. Though I’ll admit it was difficult to focus on much.
We have people coming over for dinner tonight, so not sure when I will get to write ‘for real’. Maybe the extra time will help me make sense of all my thoughts. Fingers crossed you won’t get another rambling mess of a post like this one. Anyone know with any type of mental illness knows that sometimes you just don’t have any control and you just have to ride the wave. I really wasn’t prepared for this wave, so we’ll see how it goes.
I consider myself I shy person. I know, that hardly seems possible as I, not ten minutes ago, tweeted a picture of my breasts. Seriously though, I don’t like social situations and would always rather curl up on the couch with a cup of coffee and book than go out. I haven’t been in a club in a decade with no pull to return. However, in complete opposition to that standard nature, I did something that I haven’t done in over ten years. I asked a boy to go out with me.
Not really, of course. I’m in my thirties, relationships with ‘boys’ at this point would be illegal. But that is how my brain and heart see it. And, hopefully, it goes better than any other time I’ve done it. This is not the first time I’ve done this, but I have never been successful. I told a boy (I was 14, so it was okay) that I liked him in high school. He said that he wasn’t interested and he avoided me for the rest of year. I talked to a friend in college about the possibility of a ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement. He decided to start sleeping with my roommate instead. That one ended up working out for the best though as my husband and I got together soon after and that guy ended up in our wedding.
This is a bit different, however. This is a man. A very nice man. And I have asked him to be my dominant. My husband and I have talked a lot about it and have decided that me trying a D/s relationship with someone else is a good idea. Our relationship is strong, but it will always be vanilla. But there is a lot that I still feel I need to explore as a submissive. With his support I’ve decided to ask a dear friend that I have found a good connection with.
I’m not sure what will happen. He has a sub. And I don’t want to encroach on that. Honestly, if he says ‘thanks, but no thanks’ I would not begrudge him. It would hurt, but I’m a big pill to swallow. I can completely understand not wanting to take me on, especially with a family and other responsibilities already weighing on you. In all the previous time I’ve done this, it’s been with boys. Boys who had no responsibilities, who just follow their dicks toward or away from me. This is a man. He understands what I’m asking and I respect him for taking it seriously enough to think about it. As much as I am afraid of the answer, I respect it.
So today will be a lot of trying to keep busy. Fear and excitement will keep me going for awhile. And, since I slept so poorly last night hopefully it will wear off before bed tonight. I think I will go for a run tonight, just in case.
The idea of ‘no’ or disagreeing with a partner in a relationship always seems negative. But sometimes saying no can bring a strength and confidence. I have found this paramount in my BDSM attempts. As ancilla_ksst explains, much better than I could, saying yes all the time to a sub can be harmful. It’s hard to trust that a dominant is doing what they want if they agree with all a sub’s requests and desires.
Looking back, I think this is why my husband and my D/s wasn’t successful. While I thought I was giving him everything he asked for, I was inadvertently topping from the bottom. He was doing everything he thought I wanted and not for his own pleasure. This worked for awhile, but soon I was in a vacuum of doing things for him which was really just for me. Eventually I completely stopped trusting his responses.
When he would moan I would wonder if it was genuine, or just for my benefit. Was that ‘good girl’ for real, or just to shut me up? I always shrugged these feelings away, of course, because it felt good at the time. Once he opened up about his true feelings, however, I found myself in a dark place. I revisited every scene. There was a time when I couldn’t even look through our photos as it all felt fake. Submission was about putting my trust in him, and I felt like he misused what I considered a gift. I don’t think it was malicious, it may even have been subconscious. When I was able to move past the hurt it was easier to see my faults and his struggle with more empathy.
Moving forward is going to be a process. The blow to trust has rippled through our marriage. I’ve always struggled with compliments, but now I really don’t believe them. And when he thanks me for doing something for him I wonder if he means it. Things I used to do as his sub barely register anymore, making it less likely that I will continue putting in the effort.
I don’t want to make it all negative though. We are spending time together doing other things. And we are both working on personal hobbies as well. I’m trying to take a step back and put myself in a stronger personal position. And using this opportunity to figure out what I really want as a poly submissive seems like a positive step. Then, should either him or another dominant and I start some type of D/s relationship, I will be better prepared to explain my boundaries and needs. One of which will certainly be that saying no helps me trust my partner and know that everything I do is for their pleasure.
#3 – How do you know you are submissive or have the potential to be submissive?
I thought this would be a really easy question to answer. But as I reflect, it’s actually quite difficult to pinpoint what I think makes me submissive.
The short answer is that it was just something I knew. Everything I read about it just seemed to click with me. I began to separate the way that I acted in my ‘vanilla’ life and who I really was. The scenes and descriptions were such a turn on as I focused in on specific activities and attributes. I kept finding connections in how I acted around other people that fit into a submissive mindset. So many aspects of my life were telling me that this was who I really was.
I remember the first time that my husband and I tried a traditional D/s scene. Our sex had been pretty vanilla before that, so any sort of bondage or rough sex was new. I remember him ordering me to my knees and then having me crawl toward him. I was so wet by the time I reached him that it was running down my legs. We were both surprised. After that it was like my sexuality had been dormant. Everything woke up and suddenly made sense with submission as the missing piece.
I know that, even if I don’t have a consistent dynamic, I will be a submissive for the rest of my life. It has grown and affected so much more than just my sex life. And knowing that that side of me exists (under all the fake that the rest of the world sees), helps me to get through the day. I make choices and defer to others just and much, or as little, as I did before. But I don’t feel guilty about it now. It makes sense that that is just who I am as a person. And when I am praised, even for something small, I feel like the little that I am.
*I am using these questions to try and help me define what my submission means to me and what I need from BDSM. Check out all the questions and other answers as I complete them on my Define Your Kink page.*
Prompt #21: Write a letter to the 10-year old child you had been
Dear 10-year old Rye,
Stay strong. Not matter what. The next few years are going to test you. Just remember that you are beautiful and strong. I don’t want to give too much away, but your teenage years are not going to be easy for you. As difficult as it will be, your life will not end with high school. There is so much more for you to experience. Enjoy and appreciate those opportunities, even though they may seem like trials at the time. Don’t depend on others, trust yourself to know what you need.
Which leads me to a topic that you haven’t considered. Sex. I know you are only ten and have a world of growing to do. My advice is just to let yourself grow. Don’t compare yourself to others and try and race the curve. Try to be open to experiencing things that we weren’t necessarily raised to consider normal. Pleasure is found in different ways for different people. Don’t judge.
You are a good writer. Don’t stop writing down all those ideas and random story lines. All those ideas for novels deserve to be written. Don’t give up on that dream.
For every tough thing that you face, trust the people around you. Your parents and family love you. You turn out alright, trust me.
Your future self
P.S. You are going to get your first period, like, tomorrow. It’s going to suck, just FYI. Sorry, nothing I can do about that.
This is in partial fulfillment of #4 of my 101 Things in 1001 Days task, which is to use 10 writing prompts. This one isn’t very sexy, but with my grandmother’s funeral yesterday I have been thinking a lot about childhood and family.
I think as a young girl I always imagined there was one perfect guy out there for me. That my knight in shining armor would come to sweep me off my feet and meet all of my needs, whatever they might be. And, as I self-aware teen, I, of course, knew exactly what those needs would be (at this point sarcasm should be dripping from your screen). The pressure on that poor man would have been horrific. I shudder to think what I have been putting my husband through for the last ten years. No wonder his back is so bad.
But there is something interesting that I am slowly realizing as I delve into poly: It’s okay to have relationships with different people in order to meet different needs/wants. I know, I know. It’s crazy! My small mind is still struggling to wrap around this idea, as obvious as it is for some. I can allow people to show me parts of themselves without pressuring them to be something they are not. And I can be me with each of them, but they don’t have to worry about meeting all of my needs all the time. I know that this may not work for everyone, nor should it. I guess I have just always felt bad when my husband hasn’t really been into something that I am, and vice versa. So realizing that I we don’t have to everything to one another all the time was quite a shock.
Over the last few months I have been looking into different aspects of this idea. Not being a different person with different people, but letting different aspects of myself out. And that, interestingly, has led to me being called several names. I don’t think I did it on purpose, it just sort of happened. But I think it helps to foster the connection, and makes me feel quite special to that person.
Friend with Benefits – “Eve”
We have been friends for nearly three years now. We share everything and talk a lot through. When we are angry with our spouses we talk it out with the other person before picking a fight. It has saved us both from a lot of needless arguments. There is always support for our dieting and various personal improvement pursuits. Our age difference is irrelevant and our feelings continue to grow. There may even have been some exchanged photos and videos, all in a manner of research, of course. 🙂
This has caused a bit of emotional strife. He means a great deal to me, and I know I am special to him. But as we are both trying to explore our sexuality in a safe space, we often share desires and fantasies that include the other person. This doesn’t bother me too much, but I think it highlights the distance for him. He started calling me ‘Eve’, his temptress, earlier this fall. I think as I have opened up my marriage, his seems to be closing ranks (at least in his opinion). But we don’t judge each other, we support one another through all of our struggles. That constant support has been vital to my growth and blogging. I cannot imagine my life without him in some sort of capacity, even though he lives half way around the world.
Dominant – “Little One”
I’m not sure what this is, to be honest. He’s a friend and fellow blogger than I flirt with on Twitter. It’s nice to talk about my submission and things I want to try without putting pressure to preform. I do get a certain giddiness when he calls me ‘little one’ though. Mostly because I haven’t been little in a long time. I do find myself falling into the category of ‘little’ quite easily though. A stuffed animal and some cartoons and I am a happy camper.
We chat about our various hobbies and our kids. He and his sub are getting married next year, so I’ve been enjoying talking to him about wedding plans. But discussing his local D/s scene is nice. I am jealous on many levels as he talks about clubs and his community. No one else that I chat with on twitter regularly is into BDSM. Each of the other men listed here either aren’t into D/s or don’t define themselves as dominant. My husband is working on himself right now, and I know that BDSM is a future goal for us. But talking to this gentleman (and he is) is good perspective.
Husband – “Rye”
He is my rock. We have been through so much together and I’m sure will be through much more. We have two adorable, if infuriating, children together and I can’t imagine being a parent with anyone else. Our mutual mental illnesses included, we love and support each other through everything. The last year has been difficult. The move and starting our businesses (yes, plural) has been stressful. We are supporting one another through our struggle and he never ceases to amaze me.
He understands me more than any other person could. We never go to bed angry, unless it’s at the children. And I couldn’t have asked for anyone better to be understanding and supportive about being open and poly. I just hope that he finds what he is looking for out of it as well. He knows exactly when I’m having a terrible day and knows which junk food I want to feel better. I couldn’t ask for anything more.
Lover – “Baby”
Generally he does call me by my real name, but when he calls me baby I go all puddily. Our mutual love of sarcasm and wit make for hilarious conversations. We enjoy eating and watching cartoons almost as much as we enjoy fucking. He is endlessly positive and supportive of everything I do. I know that our relationship is still very young, but we feel old together. He is a bit older than me, but, aside from calling me ‘baby’, he doesn’t treat me like a child.
I know that he has other partners. I’ll admit that that fact isn’t always easy to stomach. But considering the number of states between us, it’s hardly like I can complain. The time we have together, however, fleeting, is wonderful. Knowing him has certainly helped me to work on being in the present. The future will happen whether I want it to or not, no point worrying about now. And we both seem to want each other in it.
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.
When Sir and I started dating I had long hair. I started growing my hair out and donating it to Locks for Love every few years. I had donated before I started college, so when I wandered onto campus in the fall of 2003 it was only about 2 inches long. When we started dating four years later my hair had grown significantly. I hadn’t cut it (aside from an occasional trim) during my college career, so it was well down my back by the fall of my senior year.
Sir always liked the androgyny of short hair. He says that that is what attracted me to him all those years ago. But with BDSM we both enjoyed the benefits of keeping it long. When he decided to stop our 24/7 dynamic last fall and walk back our D/s I took the opportunity for change. Off came 13″ for charity. Looking back, I think I was trying to remind him that he used to think I was sexy. And possibly also as a defiant act against the traditional submissive with long hair in a braid. But I forgot how much work short hair is. I got it trimmed a few times, but was soon itching for hair to play with. Right now my hair is at that awkward length where it’s too short to pull back, but too long for comfort. Meaning it hangs in my face all the time.
So I have started regrowing it. My work wants tattoos covered, so I need to get/keep it long enough to cover the calla lilies on my neck. Plus, as we continue to try and add more D/s elements back to our daily routine, having the long hair back would nice.
I love to play with my hair. I run my fingers through it and twirl it (yeah, like a four year old) when I try to think. And I find myself doing it at stop lights when I drive. I also love when others play with it. Brush it, stroke it, style it, I don’t care. Just touching it gives me all sorts of gooey loved feelings.
Oddly enough though, I wouldn’t call it a kink. When it’s stroked, I feel like a pet, so it may work with that definition. But I hate to have my hair pulled. I’m not sure why. I don’t like idea of it as a sexual activity. It does seem sexy to me though. Long flowing locks wrapped around his fist sounds so arousing. However, actually having the hair yanked, even during sex, does not provide the positive results the fantasy promises. Even in a punishment context, I just get defensive and bitchy. That particular pain reminds me too much of my little brother being a pest rather than a hot sexual experience.
In any case, I’m growing my hair out. Right now I would say it’s about 50/50 between doing it for me and doing it for D/s. Both are viable reasons, in my opinion. And next time I donate it I’m not sure I’ll cut it quite so short. Then I could skip this ‘not quite long enough’ phase. And whether he pulls on it or not, being able to braid it always helps me keep from playing with it when we scene.