Ice Girl's public thoughts.

My first partner in 8 years as a demisexual-

 

Content warning: abuse, SA, queerphobia,

 

Introduction:

I personally required writing about my first sexual partner in 8 years, However since it involves someone else, I have to be careful about what they feel comfortable with me describing. There is an orphic sapphic attraction that is entrusted between us. 

 

I want to illustrate my mental state, thus breaking it into parts makes sense. This entry will focus on my personal relationship with sex, my body, and sexuality. I will not address my partner other than how I determine her worth or go into many specifics other than some events. I know tending to this budding relationship is unbiasedly rational. Electing to be sexually intimate for me is a big deal; this decision must be reflected upon.

 

I have mentioned in previous blogs that I was born female with an intersex condition. I was raised by my family to perform the male gender role and was given treatments and abusive guidance that forced me to adopt a male identity (all of which failed to take long term). I didn't know for sure I was biologically female until I was about 10 years old. although, I started questioning why I wasn't like other boys from four years of age.

 

An important thing to consider:

Parents shouldn’t have the right to keep that information from their children, and non-consenting Intersex genital mutilation should be a crime aside from cases where the life of the child is in immediate danger. No operations should be done without an individual's express input.

 

My earliest memories in life are dealing with these issues, not hard to imagine why I'm uncomfortable within my body. I doubt that will change much over time. I'm just enduring this flesh bag I am forced to inhabit since no other options are given.

 

My first attempt at sexuality and being intersex:

I will never forget my first girlfriend: after my first sexual experience with her, I mentioned that I was intersex, and she immediately lost her mind, yelling at me, "You're a damn H-slur, how could -- you know I only like women!"

I responded, "Can you please not call me that?" and with an emotionally shaken stutter and tears in my eyes  "I am female." She called me a man and said she never woulda slept with me if she had known I was a guy, and I should be ashamed of myself for taking advantage of a real woman.

 

It was so traumatic that it made me paranoid that no one could ever love an intersex body. It is a quite logical assumption since until she found out I was intersex she seemed to love me.  Circumstances surrounding my biology being a cis-bodied female due to a genetic condition was enough to have her go from a tender soul who cherished me to a hate-filled bigot whose anger echoed the screams at the Salem witch trials.

 

I was hated by my family and church for not being able to masculinize. I was rejected by my first lesbian relationship and lost nearly all my friends once I outed myself. So of course I worried that I was destined to be hated for all eternity just for breathing.

 

Being intersex is a unique circumstance, you're not easily placed in one category or able to explain your situation to most laypersons.

There are over 40 intersex conditions to consider, and many doctors can’t even treat you, additionally how you were raised plays a factor, also the operations and interventions which been performed (often without consent), contribute to your headspace, it even can limit what options are currently available for you to choose from in your future. Furthermore, your personal situation interacts with such core concepts as your chromosomes, phenotype, sex, sexuality, gender, and gender expression adding to the perplexing complexity known as just trying to exist in an unkind world.

 

The LGBTIQQAA+ community has an agenda alright that agenda is to live. We want to have the right to see a ray of sunshine and feel it warm our souls with the thought that it's a privilege to be alive. In the trans and intersex community, 41% attempt suicide, and a great many complete the task by taking themselves forever from their loved ones. The base rate of suicidality is 13.42 per 100,000. If suicide happened at the rate it does for the trans and intersex community towards the population at large, it would be the leading cause of death. 

 

I have lost many in this battle for existence. I had been hospitalized for self-inflicted wounds in my youth. Many therapists and medical care that exists barely even offer compassion for this struggle. So what happens is often there's much peer-to-peer support and word of mouth as well as websites about the few competent medical people in existence. Imagine a world where 40 years after the AIDS crisis people still have to whisper about which hospitals and providers to avoid because they are not safe. Well, surprise it still exists how much progress so-called allies love to trumpet when there are so many dead bodies in our community we need several days to remember them all -- it doesn't have to be this way forever.

 

Within the intersex community, there is a discussion about what it means to be intersex. The consensus is that if you met one intersex person, you met one intersex person due to the vast range of presentations.

 

Due to being hurt and hating myself, I never really liked the idea of sex or being intimate. Trying to be vulnerable in front of someone often results in great pain and sadness. Add in a dash of not really identifying with your body, and you have a recipe for no sex. I call myself a Demisexual because there were people I had been with sexually that I enjoyed, but it was rare. Most sex I had when I was young was due to not wanting to be lonely.

 

The final nail in the coffin for casual sex was when one of my good friends in Washington invited me out to see him.  I had reason to go anyway (another friend's marriage), so I decided to carve out some time for him. When he didn't get the sexual response he desired during the visit, he tried to force himself on me. I beat him down, he wasn't expecting a world-class martial artist that could easily make him look silly. Yet with tears in his eyes, he begged me to stay so he could salvage the friendship and apologize for his behavior. He then tricked me into thinking he just wanted to apologize and talk it over some tea. It was laced he ended up drugging me and violently raped me that night.

 

I can never forget begging him to stop, as I could barely move my limbs. He beat on me extra hard for having kicked his ass earlier. When I started crying, he told me the tears only made him harder. It was at that point that I resolved never to allow myself to be penetrated again aside from someone I 100% trusted, nor would I be able to trust anyone without clear evidence. Since If someone I knew and cared about for years could do that, how could I ever really know anyone or trust anything casually again?

 

While at college:

I had a couple of people I was intimate with, but I had rules in place that sabotaged any real relationship from ever growing the notion of letting my guard down -- didn’t even cross my mind.

I wouldn't let any partners touch me. I would have to initiate all contact. The sheer act of even kissing me without permission, I would tell them constitutes assault. The raw level of control when trying to physically touch me made any relationship hard, and many of my partners would often cry and complain about how unfair it was that I wouldn't even try to trust them since they didn’t hurt me. I was set in my ways. If you don't like it "leave" is what I would tell them. I was never going to risk being a victim again.

 

However, I also didn’t have the spirit to admit to anyone that this behavior was a result of my nerves being shaken from having been abused. So maybe if I was honest upfront then they could have at least understood my behavior but I lacked the fortitude to let people know I was a sexual assault survivor like many, I was ashamed to talk about it, and it was perpetrated by someone I knew for and had called a friend.

After college, I made a blood pact with myself that I wouldn't be sexual with anyone ever again unless I trusted them completely and without question. I was surprised it only lasted 8 years because I wasn't expecting to ever be with someone ever again. (I get so wet when I'm aroused. Guess my body is making up for lost time.)

 

So how did a demisexual find the brashness to take the next step with someone?

 

The first part of it was health-related:

Unbeknownst to me at the time, my hormone needs were changing and my body was breaking down (nearly 280 pounds, pre-diabetic, with high blood pressure, fatty liver disease, kidney issues, and bones and muscles that weren't healing after an ambulance accident, I literally couldn't support myself out of bed; I'd fall out and crawl around or hobble on crutches pathetically.)

 

Doctors took a long time to realize that much of this was due to hormonal imbalances, a common issue for intersex and trans people. My body's inability to self-regulate was a direct result. They worked hard to correct that after being wrong for many years. This July, adjustments were made to a different estrogen medication and the reinsertion of progesterone in my med profile. Once both changes were implemented I had immediate progress, yet unintended consequences. I started to have a cycle again and actually developed a much stronger sex drive than I had displayed previously.

 

Despite this, there hadn't been a single devoted sexual encounter in the last 6 months (until last weekend). The need for stimulation ended up causing me to join a local BDSM club in November. I had been a dominatrix in the past, so I wanted to have some fun to blow off steam and always found kink spaces relaxing.

 

Who doesn't want to hang with other perverted, free-spirited fucks? Kink is completely separate from sex for me; I will kink with anyone but only have sex with someone I adore and am in an express relationship with.

 

During this period, I was debating and questioning everything about myself. I allowed things I never had before. I explored my submissive side for the first time. I had always known I was a switch but never had the confidence to explore submission in the community because of the previous abuse. I just didn't trust people enough.

 

I also explored my body for the first time by allowing a couple of people who I kinked with to explore me in somewhat sexual ways, including: trying a fuck machine three times (had to be sure I liked it), getting my ass eaten, being tied up and suspended in the air while having knives carved along my body, having my pussy set on fire, and being beaten. You get the idea, so I decided to explore certain feelings without the burden of a sex partner to see if I could even enjoy stimulus. I enjoy quite intense situations. I am grateful for the people who were and hopefully still are willing to give me the safety to explore my body in a safe guilt-free environment. Conclusion: My body is totally fine with being female I also enjoy pleasure as much as anyone. My issues are a result of my own confusing headspace due to Chronic post-traumatic disorder and gender identity issues.

 

About the self-described pleasure domme and us:

One would expect there was a long courtship before they won my heart and melted the ice for Icegirl, right? Absolutely incorrect assumption!

 

I am pretty sure I encountered them for the first time in November when I first walked into the club, if not on a newcomers' night (went because I was new to that club and it was recommended), or the second day and they were at the front desk doing some work on their laptop in-between helping people, and I tried to talk to them because as an innately friendly extrovert, I try to be kind towards with everyone I meet. Yet they were busy and stressed and seemed to want nothing to do with me, going so far as to politely tell me to buzz off.

 

I was good with being brushed aside as a hyper person; I am used to people finding me a bit much. I am aware I can be distracting if someone was truly busy. I have an inner puppy style where I can be annoying to some who aren't used to managing something with ADHD that doesn't mind the condition and will often feed into the hyper.

I enjoy living life at 1000 miles an hour (1610. KM)! Only When I absolutely have to be truly calm, will I take my Adderall. I avoid it when I can because it makes me unbearably sleepy and sluggish. Depending on when I took the Adderall, it can at times compromise my ability to drive. Paradoxical reactions for the win.

She literally pretty much ignored my attempts to simply have a true conversation with her for another 4 months. I was starting to worry she thought I was a creep or something I just really felt bad since she seemed depressed and I wanted to try and cheer her up.

 

So how did we actually start talking:

I was asked by the owner not that long ago if I could help out by assisting a CPR class and/ or maybe doing Dungeon Monitoring, with my NREMT and WEMT certification and licenses paired with being around the lifestyle for so long can make me an asset. I loved the club and found it fun place to hang out with a cool vibe so I agreed to help in any way possible. I also felt when it comes to DM’s specifically I didn't see many female young DMs and thought it would be good to add to the diversity in representation; besides, nothing phases me, so I said let's fucking do this!

 

I have now DMed like 5 times (excluding 2 shadows) and been so well trusted by my captain he even allowed to help train a shadow. I  played in the club before and after roughly 10 times, so in 4 months, I have gone approximately 17 times out of 32 possible times, although in the last week, I went 4 days in a row! I also helped out at a helping hands event and cleaned the club on a just all hands on deck day.

 

So the last four days at the club

Rope skill share, rope is the latest skill I want to add to my BDSM tool bag (while expanding on my electric experience).

A pet play event

There just have a conversation with my partner.

And finally, a shift I was working as a DM.

 

So for someone who also volunteers often like T at the club, we crossed paths plenty on those 17 days.

 

Yet last Tuesday, these were the exact words she said to me when I was just trying to get to know them. "I'm not really in a great place emotionally, and I don't think this is a great time to get to know me, to be honest."

 

So I figured, oh well, I tried. I had finally saw the sign as a hard please just fucking stop, and as a demisexual, I wasn't looking for anything more than to see if I could make another friend; I was ready to quit trying disheartened.

 

I saw a busy, stressed person who looked like they could use a friend, and I wanted to offer her my love and support. Yet she wasn’t interested. I know my actions are a reflection of myself, and many times in my life I wished people seemed to care when I was having a bad time.

 

Do you know what it feels like to be in the ICU bleeding to death with transfusions going into both arms, wondering if you're going to live or die? Asking yourself, "Do you even want to live?" wondering if maybe that moment is where your story is going to end.

 

Furthermore thinking if you were to expire, not a single tear would fall, no alarm would be raised. Yet here I am clearly alive, so I have always vowed to live my life as if it were a gift. I should only do what I want when I want it, with no exceptions or apologies.

 

But then something happened between us. We both attended a pet play event, neither of us in a capacity where we had to work, and luckily she had a good day and for the first time was willing to interact with me as Pikachu I went as one of my favorite Pokémon. I love being silly and fun and cutting loose. As an EMT who lived a hard life, I have a memory filled with enough tough moments. I just want times in my life that don't need serious get-sh*t done attitude is too much to ask for?

 

Well As we got to know each other, it turned out we had a lot in common and a possible mutual attraction. So we went to go chat during a cool-down moment for the event, and it ended up that we had spent 45 minutes alone together, and even though we both intended on helping after the cool down period, someone had to poke their head in and be like, "We're wrapping up." We were both sorry because we hadn't noticed, and since we are generally nice people, we regretted not taking the time to help.

 

The next day I wasn't even planning on going to the club, but she was going to work it, so I was like, "Ok, guess I will stop by on my way home from work since I would like to chat more and keep company while they work the front." They weren't technically on, but they asked if we wanted to chat more intimately, so we spent the next 45-60 minutes chatting, but my alarm went off to go walk my dog, a Siberian husky named "Sitka," she stole my bra and told me to go walk my dog and we can pick up the conversation where we left off when I’m done.

 

I was so angry since the conversation quickly changed to low-key physical romantic escalation. I didn't want to leave nor was I intending to spend the whole day at the club, so I do my chore and when I returned, it immediately gets turned up to 11. The anticipation of seeing each other made it feel like a magnate that just needed to collide, and sexual escalation seemed natural aside from her constantly asking for permission for every new contact. We ended up fucking hot and heavy in a glass coffin for hours publicly for anyone to see.

 

You might be like, "What?" You went from being an asexual demisexual to fucking in a glass coffin in front of a club with roughly 200 guests who could see you. What the hell?

Note many Demisexuals do like sex we just need to be emotionally connected first. I for one am good with sex so long as it’s not with a cis-hetero male.

 

Additionally, you have to thank my biggest regret for the ability to flip the switch like that Safi, the woman I wanted most in my life before this past weekend. Whom I turned down progressing our relationship sexually for foolish reasons. We dated for almost two years in high school; she was Jamaican and a diplomatic helper daughter who was there for a time helping the embassy and UN studies (I was born in New York City, so such people are not uncommon). I met her under the awning at a mall that was opening; I can still remember her looking shy and waiting for her friends, and me being my extroverted self just pranced on over and asked her why she looked so sad and lonely. To which she replied that she doesn't mean to; it was just how she looks.

 

Little did I know that conversation, not even two years later, was going to end up with me on the floor, mounted by her heavy kissing and petting with her grinding her hips into me, begging me to fuck her. I refused because, as much as I loved her, A had promised her father since he was letting me stay there not to fuck his daughter, B I was uncomfortable with my intersex body, and even though I had sort of mentioned it to Safi, I wasn't sure she understood fully or ever could, C I was staying there with her; what happens if her father or mother heard us? I am just randomly kicked out into the streets of Jamaica with only her friends to help house me until the return trip. I go to the American embassy and be like yeah I fucked my girlfriend and her father kicked me out can you help me get back to America my flights, not for another 5 days and I got nowhere to stay and I’m underage?

 

I made a promise to myself at the time: "IF A NEW PERSON CROSSES MY LIFE WHO I WANT TO LOVE, I AM NOT GOING TO MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE TWICE AND BE KICKING MYSELF OR ALL ETERNITY." Safi, I am still sorry I was only 17, and this is nearly 20 years later; I couldn't possibly make such a stupid mistake twice and turn down someone I lust for.

 

Apart from the obvious, how did I know? When a woman pushes you around naked in a glass coffin and then throws a chuk at you to completely fuck your brains out for 2 hours straight, you don't let a sex goddess pass you up. ( a joke I will get to the real reason in abit)

 

Last night I tried to explain it to her using one of my favorite scenes from Mulan:

Emperor:

The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.

Shang: (looking confused)

Sir?

Emperor: (annoyed at the stupid)

You don't meet a girl like that in every dynasty.

 

So let's go to the qualities that make her so remarkable to me:

 

I was such a trouble maker when I was young the school tested me for behavior disorders and intellect when they found out the issue was I was bored by the school they recommended me getting therapy and jumping grades.  WHEN YOU ARE READING SHAKESPEARE IN KINDERGARTEN WHAT IN THE HELL DID THEY WANT ME TO DO -- associate with babies of course I was bored and needed the hell out of there?

 

I can't forget one time in first grade we were asked to read to the class what we had been reading at that moment I pulled out my knapsack Oedipus Rex (the play where a king kills his dad, fucks his mom, and blinds himself; you know what normal 6-year-olds are all about).

 

After all, the testing administrators wanted to put me on a fast track to 5th grade, skipping me immediately to 3rd, and moving me again if I could get my math up. My mother and family refused, saying I was so anti-social that I needed socialization with peers and that they didn’t want me to be unable to make friends.

 

Clearly, my mother was on drugs (note: she was a junkie) because how was I supposed to interact with these kids, most of whom were unable to form simple sentences, use grammar, or read anything more than a year or so above their level when I was already reading and writing at the college level?

 

It was at that moment that I made an oath: I didn’t want to ever have a serious relationship with anyone who I didn’t deem my intellectual equal.

 

IQ itself isn’t what matters in my view of intellect, and as I got older, I understood that general intellect isn’t the only measure of intelligence. But a person must be able to keep up with my hyper mind while also challenging me and being someone whose advice I would take as if it were my own.

 

In my own life, I've only met a few people with mutual attraction who were even remotely close, because being a Genius is 1 in 400, then you factor in being gay, which is roughly a 10% modifier, so 1 in 4000, and then add in the BDSM 2% for good measure, for an estimated 1 in 12,000 chance.

 

Now, keep in mind that this is all a numbers game, and one can fish in the right ponds by frequently visiting a BDSM club. Meeting thousands of people by being an open friendly extrovert, asking questions to see their intellect shine while concealing your own because you don’t want to be known as an erudite prude who only likes sleeping with intelligent persons.

 Note I think what's hotter than raw intellect is creativity. The other day at the club one of my friends did the most creative BDSM scene I experienced in while it was perfect on the theme of the night being "at the mortuary" I even had to tell his wicked partner how lucky she is to have someone with such a talented flair for the dramatic.

 

 

 

Back to my partner:

She passed a threshold I didn’t even think was possible. In fact, we are both so smart that we have at times gotten on each other's nerves because we are so used to having to explain what we’re talking about as we say it.

We explain fundamental scientific, social, political, and mathematical principles. It's like, "Um, are you talking down to me?" On more than one occasion, we both had to apologize for the pattern of not having a peer to talk to. I'm literally trembling as I type this and crying from the beauty; for the first time in my life, I can have a conversation with someone without having to fucking explain everything and what it means it's so orgasmic I am in awe of the union.

 

So, if that's not enough of a numbers game for you, something so incredibly rare that it seems impossible has already occurred. Let's get dangerous with numbers!

 

I am an intersex person, and my condition starts out with a 1 in roughly 90,000 chance of occurrence. Then I am a variant that occurs in about one in three people with my condition, known as sex reversal syndrome contributing to persistent mullerian ducts, giving me a 1 in 270,000 chance. Well, since these numbers are looking at XY, let's double them for the whole population. In the general population, I have a 1 in 540,000 chance of being born. The law of probability mean that clearly, I have to occur sometimes it is also why I have been often treated like a freak of nature by the medical community.  Well, This person didn’t just understand without me having to do any education because they are a graduate level biomedical engineer She was able to predict exactly who my primary care provider was and knew all about there education level and flawed knowledge in this area. With such a rare condition, there are only a few experts in the area who could even begin to treat me but she knew the person I would be funneled towards.

 

WHAT A OUTSTANDING SITUATION! She's like Sherlock Holmes, but with a hotter ass and a better kisser. Before I even finished talking about some of my medical situations, she immediately started criticizing the team I had and exclaimed that it was no wonder why I had been so fucked up for a while. Having to discuss actual real-world nonsense about how, after giving my provider countless reachers and even threatening her with lawsuits, I believe I have it under control. I had a real conversation with someone about my health—a conversation I never really had with a partner before because how could they understand what I am going thru.

 

Can you imagine to finally find someone who understands what you were going through and how complicated and lonely it is to make such gut-wrenching life-or-death decisions?

 

These two things alone make her irreplaceable, but I shall now list all the other things that she has shattered:

 

The first person I willingly let penetrate me

The first person I had sex with in a BDSM club or overtly publicly

The first person I let dominate me in anyway sexually

The first person I know has no rules in place other than no scars.

The first person I actually enjoyed having sex with

Only the second person I would willingly die for.

The first person for whom time apart is an agony that eats away at my soul

The first person I enacted the Safi rule for that (everything is a limited-time offer, don’t fear what you want, claim it).

The first person I let claim victory at a board game that I clearly had an advantage on but decided to concede anyway since I was more interested in her and sharing intimacy than continuing to kick her ass at a game she owns and literally it was my first time playing it ever (wink),

The first person I can never truly be angry with if they hurt or harm me because if they hurt me, I must have deserved it in some way, and if it pleases them in service to them, I'd suffer because I've already suffered my entire life thinking I'd never meet someone like them

 

So the moral of this story is that life is chaos. I had no idea the stern bitch who didn’t want to give me the time of day just 4 days ago would end up being the person I have loved and desired most in my life.

 

But I kept being myself. I figured she had a lot on her plate. I looked at the good, the dedication she showed to her work, the club, the diligence with which she did her work, and the passion in some of her writings and said to myself, "There is no way this person isn’t truly a beauty. She must be hurting so deeply and used to shitbags. She's got to protect her noble, generous heart."

 

The fact that I have this opportunity, this one chance at getting to know the woman of my dreams, is already a hallelujah. She isn’t just your flavor of the month; she’s not replaceable; there are no substitutions or refunds; she is a speck of gold found in a mound of sand. She is the type of woman who makes hell seem like paradise since you get to share some of the torment next to her, and that can lift the burdens of anyone’s essence as if a plasmatic discharge; what was once the pain is now a pleasure for the two of us to conjure.        

 

I made a post about having sexual feelings for the first time in my life and I have been getting some people saying how they are happy for me.

 

After this sorta thing kept happening I feel I must clarify since a comment tonight has brought me to the brink of self harm for the first time in years.

 

I feel so annoyed at people reading themselves into my previous post.

 

"I have to admit I'm a little envious of your experience, I had been wishing I could have something that helped my libido and make it easier to connect with potential lovers" (tone deaf)

 

I am in my 30's and literally besides a random naughty dream here or there since 13 over 20 years I had zero sexual interest or desire. I was a hard asexual - with demisexual tendencies because If I loved someone enough I would be intimate with them for their pleasure alone.

 

This was my idenity what I knew about me for god damn 20+ years!

 

A core aspect of my personality my very sexuality is on the verge of death and people are celebrating it?

 

like oh its not so bad, we all go thru puberty yours just hit a little later.

 

What's worse is when I talked to my doctors about how emotionally uncomfortable it is making me, they like to point out these feelings are healthy and that since the current hormone balance is making my body healthier, this is thriving! ?

 

Well I'm sorry not to see it that way, to me it seems like a fucking obnoxious side effect triggered by trying some different hormone levels.

 

With all the medications that exist in the world the right balance has to sexualize me as an unwanted effect.

 

I complain about how frustrating it is because I feel betrayed by my body. I hate her (my body)for not being in lock step with my mind about sexuality anymore.

 

I see this as a corruption of my character.

 

A part of me is debating going non complaint with my medicine. I am pretty sure I'd rather be disabled then have a libido that's how fundamentally uncomfortable this is for me.

 

If you have anything at all to say you can say it publicly or not at all.

 

I don't want any dms over this writing, I am being fully transparent for people who know me so if you wanna talk do it publicly.

 

I am gonna find a way through this situation but it may mean I let my body fall apart. Don't judge what I do by what's right for you, this is my decision and I am being torn apart over it but will come to a decision eventually.

 

Also don't debate my feelings on this they are mine and mine alone.

 

A depressed?‍?

Icegirl-

This year my doctor's changed my hormones around. ( Who knew estrogen and progesterone play a vital roll in overall health)

 

In every metric I am healthier then last year. ?

 

Yet once everything was balanced my body went to places I never knew existed. I had always been an asexual, who would only have sex with someone to please them because I am loving. ?

 

However, with my hormones as they are now that's not the case anymore. ?

 

There are times when i'm near ovulation that I am in tears because I want to be penterated so badly it hurts both physically and emotionally. ?‍??

 

I had no idea a female body could desire being fucked and attended to so intensely before. Even crazier is that my body could become this way with some small tweaks to my medicine. ?

 

Coming from someone who never really had these feelings before it's agonizingly intense.?

 

I am uncomfortable embracing this emergent aspect. I realize that dealing with my body as it should be is the only healthy path forward. ?

 

But-

 

I got used to how I was, these changes make it difficult to cope. The old me is only a memory, there is a comfort in the familiar and a sense of identity that is now lost. I at times feel hopeless since my world inverted. ?

 

Questions?

 

Who am I? ?

What does tomorrow bring? ⛅

Will I adapt to the new normal? ?

 

I am anxious about my future, I hope that the people I end up interacting with will leave positive impressions. I have had enough trauma for 2 lifetimes. ?

 

I changed more in the last year, then the previous 10. I can use some low drama fun experiences, is that too much to want from the universe. ?

 

Are you willing to explore and adventure with me - as I find bits of myself I never knew? ?

 

Love the one and only,

Icegirl-❣️

So tonight, due to watching the stupid football game, I ended up walking my dog a bit later than I normally do. As I am out about 11:30, I notice this gray Mustang-looking car sort of going slow on the block above and it’s pacing me and the dog. There's an odd slant coming where the street above me and the street I am on were gonna kinda get really close, so I went jogging really fast with my dog past that area, and I was like, ok, sweet, that's over with. 

 

But no, not even a few minutes after that, from the street I am on – at an intersection between a school and a street – I see the same car with the guy standing outside with a flashlight, and I’m like Jesus Christ, am I gonna have to fight this guy? I'm getting too fucking old to fight people (nearly 30 years of martial arts training, I always carry mace and a knife with me when I go walking).

 

I realize if he's trying to spark an encounter, how to avoid it now. I want to not be taken by surprise, so I dart into a school field far away from the street, so now he and the car can't follow me. He would have to be forced to run up on me on foot, and I will see him and whoever is with him and have time to prepare to fight them. 

 

As I am crossing the school field and watching the stopped car, I am talking to my friend Sid on the phone, telling them how weird this all fuckin’ is and how I really am sick of this kinda shit. Then, I see them outside the car, but they aren't following me, so maybe they thought I was someone else – who the fuck knows? But once I cross the school grounds, I will be in an apartment complex with cameras and a lot of eyes, so I doubt they will follow me anymore. 

 

I end up getting into the complex. They still haven't followed, but I can no longer see their position because of a hill and some of the apartments in the complex that are now in the sight line. 

 

I am telling Sid that if they come in with the car, I know where there is a back fence which basically empties out only a couple of blocks away from my house, and I am ready to sprint if I have to. I will stand my ground and do whatever I have to. As I'm approaching the back gate to the complex, the car does in fact show up and this guy gets out and he comes towards me. I have my cell phone flashlight, shining it right at his eyes while running backwards screaming as loud as I can, “Get the fuck away from me. I will fight you. Leave me alone.” 

 

Then I start sprinting backwards through the gate, watching him as he keeps walking towards me and he’s like, “I wanna talk to you, girl. What’s your problem?” 

 

I was like, shit. this dude and me might have to fight. This is gonna be my last chance for escape before I have to engage, so I turn and run as fast as I can with my husky. I just start yelling, “If you follow me, I will stab you,” making as much noise as I can make while running pretty much down the middle of the road so there is no blind spot. 

 

I run pretty fast (have done max speed on the treadmills at the gym for upwards of a minute, which I believe is 12 miles an hour), not to mention I also had my husky pulling me and my adrenaline in my body spiking, so I was easily running the fastest I have ever ran in my life, maybe 15-16 miles an hour. 

 

What’s funny is my dog was loving it and, like, howling because huskies love to mush. 

 

I got home and had to write this all out. 

 

It’s been running thru my head – what in the fuck was this logical reject of humanity thinking?

 

A) if it was good intentions, you see I noticed you, am avoiding you, and yet you keep trying to pursue me? Take the hint – I don't want your help or to be surprised by a motherfucker I don't know at midnight. 

 

B) if it was bad intentions, you can see I was onto your game. Find an easier prey. I really, really am tired of fighting. The last real fight I had was in 2020; some ass tried to hit me with a chair and I had to disarm him and almost choke him out. I was abused in my life. I will fuck someone up hard, but I’d prefer not to. If you see someone who’s hyper-vigilant with a dog in the middle of the night, know they probably aren't your target. Of course, I wish you wouldn't attack anyone at all, since if you want to violate a woman you see alone at the middle of the night, you should off yourself. The world would be better without your deranged ass taking oxygen molecules. 

 

C) if it was neutral and you just wanted to chat me up because you thought I was pretty or liked my dog or wanted to ask a question like what am I doing out so late, this is not the fucking time. 

 

Whether it’s A, B or C, it all equals D) dumb as shit. I have had people attempt to mug me. I have had people attempt to car jack me. Growing up in not the best section of New York City, sometimes you face a shitty day, but for the love of god, think before you approach me in the middle of the night, because even though the attempt at interacting with me might have been positive or neutral, at that hour I have to assume negative – because the stakes of being wrong are too high.

 

I hadn't been a switch at all until this year of my life.

 

Yet the second my body was bound in rope for the first time, I knew that I could never look at dominance or submission the same way again. The intimate connection I have felt with rope tops has given me a short reprieve from my anxiety and natural nervousness.

 

The more tension the rope puts on my skin creates a feedback loop where the deeper my troubles seem to fade. An insatiable desire to be bound, held tightly, to be pricked by the bite of rope on my soft, supple skin gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.

 

My shoulder is not known to be an erogenous zone for me, yet once a column or double column is groping me, my whole body changes. As rope is cinched into my skin with a playful pinch, the restriction sets me immediately into a headspace where just me and the top exist. It doesn't matter who's watching or the context. Imagine what it does everywhere else, sometimes a rope top will drag the rope across my hard nipples oh my, you can see flush on my face admitting how much I crave it.

 

I have only had 4 scenes so far, but each time, as if to humiliate me for once,saying I'd never be a sub when I was young. I was to insecure to admit that I need a break at times from being "in charge." The sheer thought of someone doing kinbaku with a suspension or Shibari can make my heart to flutter like no other kink or experience.

 

It isn't so much the alluring nature of rope or its aphrodisiac like nature for me that is the key trait. I crave the freedom in feeling taken care of by another, feeling owned with no worries or burden temporarily other then to inform them what the rope is doing as well as whispering gratitue in hypnotic sighs.

 

 With all the pressures and stresses of everyday life in my high stakes life working as an EMT while doing volunteerism for Maryland search and rescue, I don't get to unplug,turn off, to surrender to moments that would overwhelm many. Often I am under so much pressure to handle whatever fucked up emergency can emerge, and thanks to people, there is an awful lot of crazy going on.

 

The most appealing thing is an end to my hypervigilance. I get to surrender to the moment and exist divorced from reality, After the first time It created an insatiable need for the freedom given when tied up. I get to believe that my dom can and will provide the safety and security needed to take care of me and my needs in that scene.

 

I am so grateful to the people who have devoted themselves to this craft. I often get thanked for being an EMS worker yet it is you who have helped smooth out rough patches in my life by giving me a den of rope to rest from an unforgiving world.

 

Forever yours,

Icegirl-

Wish someone would hold me tenderly.??

Was just trying to take a nap after walking my dog and going to the gym. Yet right after I started to sleep, a light scream turned into jerking motions which startled me and feelings of terror quickly overtook me.

 

No sleep yet, my body's tense, and I'm practically crying.

 

Having been abused as a child caused me to carry anxiety to this day.

 

I have worked on overcoming it, but it can overwhelm me sometimes and I haven't the faintest idea where it's coming from.

 

Thankfully many people in my life understand or at least try to.

 

I talk about my real life emotions and experiences since : if I am going to trust someone to kink with that person also needs to appreciate how I'm damaged.

 

I am the embodiment of Wabi-Sabi.

 

Wabi-Sabi a Japanese aesthetic concept that finds beauty and serenity in objects, landscapes, designs, etc., that are simple, imperfect, and impermanent:

It's the philosophy of wabi-sabi, which delights in the tarnish on an ancient silver bowl and the old uneven cobblestones.

 

My scars tell the story of a survivor who appreciates and lusts for life -- not that I am a broken.

 

This year I was involved in an ambulance accident going to a hospital my calf muscle torn fairly badly. Along the healing process my foot got stepped on and it broke in 4 places.

 

With that I was referred to a metabolic bone specialist and they recommended me getting back on progesterone treatment.

 

The treatment did help my bones, my muscles, my general feeling of wellness, my sleeping but it had two really big downsides for one my cycle is now more regular and its like ugh I was kinda happy nit having a period and two I actually have a libido for the first in my lift.

 

I have so far not acted on it however am starting to consider it.

Watched the video below hit me in the feels. A mother pleeding for someone to validate her son. He was picked on for wearing black nail polish. It gets replied to by someone telling an anecdote about them getting picked on.

 

My reply -

 

From a young age I always felt this was our one chance at life. Even if reincarnation or some other afterlife theories were true I had no knowledge of it being as such.

 

Thus this is it, my moment my life the only one I'm likely to ever get. 

 

With the stakes being so high everything I do needs to be imbued with the utmost authenticity. Many people exist but I am the only me. If I won't share that with the world and stand up for my right to exist I would have failed to live up to my potential.

 

At my work today I had a manager at one point ask me if I could tone it done and be less hyper. I said this is who I am I have ADHD and I'm naturally hyper and excitable. 

 

They then said well you can bother people sometimes also you seem like you wanna be the center of attention you stand out too much. 

 

I replied are you going to give me a written warning because I am going to continue to be me and when you do write me up id be glad to challenge that your discriminating against someone with a "disability"

 

 

 he then said do you think the world should revolve around you.

 

My reply "this is the Anya show my friend your not even part of the supporting cast. I will always and forever will be myself you and this company will just have to decide if they want me because believe me someone will." 

 

Never compromise yourself not for a moment. With the limited time on this Earth you should only invest your efforts into you're best interest whatever it is no apologies or explanations required. 

 

The life choices I made weren't an accident. I have smashed the glass out of a burning car while a grandmother sat inside screaming once.

I come on the scene as a private ambulance stopping because we had no one in the back. "We have to wait for the fire department to come back up; this is too dangerous," my partner says as I jump out of the car.

I said, "What's dangerous is living with myself knowing I didn't do everything I could to save a life."

I fly to the car next to the grandmother on the passenger side; she's confused, her daughter and other bystanders safely on the side walk screaming for help as others are on the phones and or taping. I don't care i got work to do I tell my partner "you Handle them I will help grandma"

Grandma is bleeding from the head - airbag deployed, shes frantic. I tell her "I am going to get her out, but I need you to cover your eyes." I have to do this because the door is damaged and won't open. I can smell the gas fumes and the heat from the engine, and I know time could be limited.

Bystanders want to assist me, I tell my partner to get them back "I don't have time" I smash the glass with my raptor, and the grandmother is startled and starts to scream as the safety glass is all over the place I make sure to brush it aside.

I tell her it's ok, and lean in give her a light hug, and let her know the situation warrants her movement to safety and I will ensure it happens.

First I need to assess whether she can be moved safely. My partner screams about the fuel leak getting worse and says the situation isn't safe; pull back.

I am like, "If it's not safe for me, it's not safe for her." let me do my job.

So I check her C-spine, her sensation, her eyes, and her ABCD's Her bones, and I am flying through the work; maybe it will get done in 1-2 minutes. Her spine is good, her bones are good, basic assessment it seems like a bit of shock, possible concussion, a slight bruise and mild bleeding on head and panic. I let her know that I am going to cut her out of the belt and pull her from the car through the window, and she is like, "Are you sure?" I am like, "Much safer than sitting in a car with a possible fire in the engine and fuel leak, yeah?"

She agrees.

I ask her to hug me and push off with her feet as I pull her through the window. I get her out, she is then holding onto me in a bare hug, and I gently get my hand under her and hold her in a cradle position as we go to the nearby grass. I ask my coworker to get some sheets and a pillow before I lay her down.

When the ground is ready I lay her on the blanket and get right beside her on my keens, saying, "Hey, how's it going?" with a relieved smile she seems to be alert and responsive.

She's still confused and asked "what happened." I told her that her daughter got into an accident and your side of the car was damaged from hitting a wall.

There was a fuel leak, so once I assessed you could be moved I had to move you for fear it could ignite, or you could have issues from inhaling the fumes.

She then was like, "Who are you?" I'm Anya, an NREMT; I'm just glad to be here in your moment of need.

Then I went on to do a full trauma assessment and get her prepped to leave.

After another 5 minutes, the fire department ambulance showed up. When they got there, I gave them the rundown and helped turn over my patient to them. They were pleasantly surprised that everything was ready to go.

A magnitude of intensity burns within me craving freedom!

I feel most alive the more extreme the situation; can you believe the world wants me to stand in line for 15 minutes at Target to buy some bagels.

I feel like I'm dying every agonizing second of the mundane.

Make me feel real, if even for a faint flash! I am the embodiment BDSM because I need the edge. The intersection where Passion, Excitement, Sexuality and Hysteria collide—I treasure It.

 

An unfortunate part about being female is the nights where I am soaked with tears of need and the moisture of unforfilled nights. An emptiness of both physical and emotional substance.

 

I'd rather be celibate then take up with another person who didn't love me - Yet my body doesn't abide by rules.

 

Someone wanna play with me ??

 

I lament the days I was asexual, life was simpler. Sex wasn't pressing me but an arrangement outta kindness, a desire to please my significant other.

 

Although these feelings shall pass as research dictates--

 

"Increased libido as you approach ovulation and a drop in libido once ovulation occurs. According to research, this phase of increased sexual desire lasts for around six days. "

 

For me it's only a couple of days thank goodness, six would be insanity!