One size doesn’t fit all

The collar means a lot of things to different people. What it meant to me goes so much deeper than ownership. To me it was so much more than offering my submission:

It was the giving of my loyalty. Knowing I would never cross a line and dishonor the bond of the collar.

It was trust in my Dominant that he had my best interest at heart in all his decisions when related to our dynamic.

It was devotion and the giving of my heart, fragile as it may be, entrusting him not to shatter it. 

It was the giving of control in so many aspects of my life, with the trust and expectation that he would never hurt me or destroy the gift that I gave freely.

In all this I cherished the bond of the collar and what I thought it meant.
Never take the collar lightly. For some it has so much meaning and emotion behind its significance.

“If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, leave that home or town and shake the dust off your feet.”

I know there was a time that I spiraled out of control…I hit rock bottom very painfully. I’ve been the girl who had a “defining moment.”

But I’ll tell you what I know for sure: What matters most is not what’s been DONE. What matters most is what you DO NEXT.

I am owning my mess. I have humbled myself. I am picking up the broken pieces and making it my mission to remember I am a child of God. I am learning to love myself and learning to be a better mother, daughter and friend. To be the light. To be more supportive. And I have seen what friendship truly is… Because anybody can walk beside you in the sunshine… But a friend willing to climb down into the pit and help you fight your way back up? Those are rare. Those are sacred.

For those who stood by me, thank you.

For those that didn’t and wanted to just stir the pot, and to throw gasoline on my dumpster fire…
I will pray for you….

For those of you that continue to twist the knife you embedded in my back…..

Block.
Phone. Facebook. Access denied.

Because listen…

I am and always will be a meet you on the battlefield kind of friend.

I’m a hold my wine, while I get my baseball bat and we ride at dawn kind of friend.

I’m a stand in the chaos with you until you’re safe kind of friend.

But I am NOT a kick-somebody-while-they’re-down friend.

Those kind of “friends” are not friends. They’re vipers, lurking in the grass ready to strike.
Your joy and happiness starts to die the moment you give those kind of “friends” access.

Shake the dust off your feet when people refuse truth, refuse peace, and refuse transformation.

Not everyone deserves a front-row seat to your life. Remember you decide who stays…
and who gets dusted off.

Sometimes I sit and think what if….

How different would my life be if….

If I hadn’t been abused as a child…

If I hadn’t been assaulted….

If I had actually been able to LIVE my life, not just survive it. 

Instead of constantly healing from things I never asked for or deserved. 

Would I have entered this lifestyle sooner, or not at all?

I wonder what I would have become if I wasn’t always recovering from situations that weren’t my fault, from being the physical, sexual or verbal punching bag for others who hoisted their own insecurities on me, expecting me to be responsible for carrying the burden. 
My heart hurts from realizing I spent so much time and energy just enduring instead of living a full and happy life. 
What hurts the most? Everything I missed out on, because I went into protection mode, while I coped with the trauma and the scars left behind. 

I deserved better. I deserved to be chosen, to be loved, to be cherished. But life is funny, it waits for no one. While I tried to pick up the pieces, heal, makes sense of why things happened, it just kept going, leaving me behind to lick the wounds that I didn’t cause. 
And yet I still wonder, what if…. And is it too late?

I am human. Sometimes I fail, sometimes I can be selfish. I spent my whole life thinking and doing for others. Being alone now, I just want to do things for me. But, I need to remember, it isn’t about me and know that I can let my giving and caring side out and not be trampled and made to feel weak. I tried to forget that side of me.
I like to do little things for those I care about. Things to make their lives easier. Things they wouldn’t do for themselves. It’s instinctive for me to want to lighten someone’s burden. I find it hard to ask for anything for myself. I squashed my desires, my needs, my wants for years. I sacrificed so much for others. Sometimes I feel guilty when I pamper myself when I get my nails done, or get a wax, or a facial. Things I was always told were frivolous and unnecessary. These little things I do now for myself make me feel happy and good about myself.

That is growth for me. Reminding myself I can still do for others while still caring for myself as well. A balance in a way. I still stumble, I am still unsure of myself sometimes. But I am learning.

I originally completed the BDSM test and I showed as a Switch. I think a lot of that had to do with my career and how I am perceived in the workplace. Through different experiences I found I was less inclined to be dominant in the bedroom and outside of work. It was like I was able to shed that dominant persona I needed to survive my work environment. Don’t get me wrong. There were many miss steps in my journey and even now I am still learning, growing, evolving with the help of my very patient Dominant. You would think the term submissive and confidence or empowering would not mesh well. But my journey has been empowering in the sense of owning my sexuality and desires. My confidence in my femininity and womanhood has blossomed. Unlearning the belief that sexual needs and desires are something to be ashamed of. I feel confident in displaying my body more so than I have ever felt. It is freeing when with my Dom’s guidance I am becoming who I was meant to be.

When my dominant gives me a task or hints at one to come and I know he enjoys the play, it always has me on edge. I am excited but at the same time a bit anxious. I never know what he is going to tell me to do. He pushes my limits, broadens my experiences which are quite limited. I am thankful for his guidance, for his insight. He tests me daily, corrects me immediately. Doesn’t allow me to make excuses and for that I truly respect his authority. I have learned so much and pushed myself to experience things I had never even dreamed of. I am learning to be what I always knew I was capable of. My first thought in the morning and the last at night are of my Dom. I feel truly blessed.

Trauma takes many forms and how we react to that trauma at the time or years later impacts everyone differently. With me. both childhood sexual trauma and military sexual trauma have left deep psychological scars. Flashbacks, anxiety/panic attacks, self harm.
For years I was able to push things down, bury it. But then about 18 months ago the floodgates opened and everything came rushing back. I became isolated, afraid and would wake up screaming in the middle of the night. I would get up and turn all the lights on and just sit in a corner, my back to a wall facing the door and just rock myself, or curl myself in a ball until exhausted I would fall asleep.

My career was unstable, my marriage a farce, I was obese and I was miserable. 
I looked at myself in the mirror and despised what I saw looking back at me. I swore to get my life back. I found a counselor, I started working out. I started the process of separation and divorce from a man I no longer had anything in common with.

Bit by painful bit I dragged myself out of the pit of misery that had been my life for so very long. Every day is a new day, a better day. Some days I am on a high, some days on a low. But everyday I move forward. Trying harder, learning something new. I fight every day to heal and become the person I know myself to be. Each night before I sleep I reflect on the things I did right, the things I didn’t and how I can do better the next day.

What does safety actually look like when everything feels too much?
For me safety is knowing when I start to falter, there is someone there who always has my best interest at heart.
The feeling of safety is when I become emotional he guides me to recenter and refocus.
Safety is him reminding me not to stay in the darkness too long and always holding the lantern to lead me back to the path when I wander.
Safety is when I close my eyes, I can feel his presence even when he isn’t near me and that presence both calms and comforts me.

Looking in the mirror and what looks back at me. A woman with haunted eyes.

Do I dare look deeper? See beyond the makeup, behind the mask? Or do I allow my triggers to shatter the mirror, so I don’t have to meet my fears face to face?

Or do I finally take the chance to truly look and say….I see you.

Closets full of clothes mocking me with their mere presence. Hinting at a life long gone. Each item a memory from long ago. Business attire, blazers, skirts, dresses taunting me from the hangers. I run my fingers along the material and remember. I remember the functions, the charity galas, going in to work. And then I look down at what I am wearing; sweatpants and an oversized tshirt with fuzzy socks. I sigh as I turn away, making my way to my prison cell/ home office. There my three computer screens await. My life, the four walls of my office. The silence broken by my fingers tapping against the keyboard. My heart grows cold, my brain numb as I pull up yet another document to work on. My life reduced to this small home, jaunts to the gym, going for a walk or to the grocery store and occasionally seeing my grown children. Longing for meaningful conversation outside the confines of work. I turn yet again to look at my closet full of clothes as a single tear makes its way down my cheek.